And I saw one of his heads as it were wounded to death; and his deadly wound was healed: and all the world wondered after the beast.
Revelation 13:3
In an alternate dimension far, far, away that has absolutely no relationship to ours at all; none whatsoever; dear God, don't let me speak it into being here:
On November 5, 2024, the United States of America elected Donald John Trump to be the 47th President of the United States. In a landslide.
For months it had seemed the Democrats had the election all tied up and Donald would no longer be able to hide his crimes behind the power of a President. Finally he would face justice for his coup attempt in 2020. The fake elector scheme. And for... well you know the list.
No, I'm just going to say it ... he stole our nuclear secrets and war plans to sell to the highest bidder! What is wrong with these people?
But none of that mattered anymore after America watched Vice President Harris swallow a fly and vomit it onto the stage during a live debate. (Oh, come on. You know we're easily that shallow.)
On election night, after the results were announced, Donald was visited by a demon. A very distinguished demon in an expensive business suit.
Despite winning, Donald sat alone in his campaign war room brooding. He'd already sent his speech back for three rewrites. Now he was making a list of everyone who deserved payback, angry at himself at how short his list was. So many traitors he couldn't remember them all.
He was adding his speech writer to the list when out of thin air, the form of a man appeared before him. Donald panicked. He clumsily threw the first thing he could find at the figure and collapsed under his enormous desk screaming for Secret Service.
"They can't hear you, Mr. President. We're in a time bubble." Donald peeked over the desk to see the man tap a futuristic glowing gold wristband and smile. He ducked under again. "I'm not here to hurt you. I'm on a diplomatic mission."
He picked up the Bible that had missed him by a mile and tossed it onto Donald's desk with a loud thump that was followed by another thump and muffled yelp.
"Congratulations... uhm... Mr. President? Do come out and allow me to introduce myself." He scanned the campaign war room that had been fashioned to resemble the Oval Office. "And may I say, you have quite a supernatural ability to sculpt reality to your will."
"Much like a god." He poured it on like syrup on soggy pancakes. All the while thinking he had never met a god who smelled like this.
Donald emerged rubbing his head, and held his hand out expectantly.
"Thanks, thank you, uh ... Who do I have the pleasure of, ah, you know, who are you?"
As he had done since puberty, Donald tried to assert dominance by grinding the bones in the man's seemingly delicate hand. That is, until he responded in kind.
"Hell's General of Avarice, Dantalion, at your service, sir." Donald yanked his hand back with a wince of pain.
"A Demon!"
Dantalion grew a couple of horns on his head for dramatic effect. "So to speak."
Donald slumped back into his chair.
"Well, what..." something caught in his throat. "What do you want with me?" Donald pawed at the Bible he'd never read and feared his time was up before he ever got to pay back the Democrats.
"Well, I want to extend congratulations on behalf of the kingdom of Hell. Perhaps reaffirm some established lines of trade while I'm here."
"Oh, for sure." Donald said, having no conception whatsoever of trade between dimensions. He sized the demon up and down, wondering what kind of sex organs it might have. His mouth fell open expectantly. "Alright, I'll cut to the chase. You've created quite a stir in the aether. All the demons and angels are talking about the Apocalypse and Armageddon. They think you're going to sign the contract."
