The next morning I woke up next to Donald Trump. I smiled and tugged at his hair. He was fast asleep. I never really noticed how much his hair looked like corn. I was almost instantly in love with it. Because he was asleep, I saw my opportunity. Ever so gently, I removed his toupee. I shoved it in my bag and went home, whispering goodbye before leaving. Once I got home, I couldn't stop thinking about his fake hair. It was majestic. There was simply no argument to be made against it. I had fallen in love with strands of polyester that resembled corn silks.
I got home and saw that Donald had texted me. But the feelings were kind of murky. I didn't love him the same without his hairpiece. I knew I was going to have to break up with him, but I didn't want to break his heart. Moments later, my phone rang.
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My Friend Sells Organs
General FictionBlack markets, bacon soda, Donald trump, and high quality organs. Who could want more?
