The Illegal Immigrant

The thousand (possibly millions) insults of Trump I had borne as best as I could; but when he ventured to say women should only be viewed for their looks and not their intelligence, I vowed revenge. You, who so well know the nature of my soul, will not suppose, however, that I gave utterance to a threat, and a threat I did not give. For, did America need more publicity of Donald Trump? ­ No, quite simply, no. I vowed vengeance for all the people of color, women, and LGBT+ people that Trump had so rudely slandered. The job of punishing that foul man was none other than mine, and so I would punish without impunity.

I had, in the past, given Trump reason to dislike me considering how many of my opinions opposed his. However, he did not want to display public distaste towards me, and with that attitude he had invited me to a gala at his infamous Trump Tower.

He had a weak point--this Trump--although in most financial regards, he was a man to be feared (not necessarily respected). He prided himself on his connoisseurship in real estate, though this was not what he was most zealous about. Illegal immigrants. That was a topic that would strike his fancy. Trump, like most politicians and businessmen nowadays, was a charlatan--a sham, an uneducated twit. But, in his hatred of illegal immigrants he was sincere. I myself did not share such radical ideas against immigration and Hispanic people, and found Trump's ideals to be flawed in him doing so. However, tonight I had to convince him otherwise.

It was at the gala that Trump first greeted me. The USA Freedom Kids droned in the background, singing that horrendous song. Trump gleefully clapped me on my shoulder, the scent of alcohol hanging on his breath.

"Bernie! Bernerino! Mr. Totally-Not-The-Zodiac-Killer! How are you?" Trump exclaimed, srpaying a thin mist of saliva over my face.

I feigned a smile, "My dear Donald, you are luckily met. I do believe I have spotted an illegal immigrant near the elevator on the 35th floor."

"No! An Illegal? In my tower?" he cried, pursing his tangerine lips.

"I have my doubts," I responded, "Of course I do not have such expertise in spotting an illegal immigrant as you do."

"Illegal immigrants!"

"I am not sure yet,"

"Illegal immigrants!"

"But we can never be sure in this day and age."

"Illegal immigrants!"

"As you are the host, you must be occupied. I do believe Clinton is just around the corner and-"

"Clinton is an utter fool! I shall spot that illegal tenfold faster than that dishonorable Clinton."

"Are you quite sure-"

"Absolutely! Let us set off at once!"

Trump grasped my hand in his unusually sweaty one and proceeded to drag me down the hall, oblivious to the devious glint in my eye.

The hallways of the Trump Tower wound round and round in complex loops, though Trump seemed to know every inch by heart (though I occasionally doubt he has one). We made light conversation as we strolled down the corridors, Trump making comments on how women should only be valued for their looks and how America needs to be made great again. I displayed a facade of approval though I disagreed with almost everything he said.

Soon enough, we arrived at the elevator. I felt my pulse steadily climb, adrenaline pumping through my veins in apprehension for my plan that was slowly coming into action. An off key chime rang out and the door rumbled quite worryingly as it opened. "After you," I gestured ahead of myself.

"What floor did you say that cursed illegal was on?" He replied. I simply pressed the button.

A few moments later and the elevator chimed as it trundled to a stop. "Now where is that illegal scum?" Trump shoved past me and outside.

"It appears he has left," I replied, sparing a glance at the elevator-now I wasn't the most confident in my engineering abilities but I knew there wouldn't be a flaw in this contraption. I had already disabled the video cameras, checked the machine, ran through the plan in my head one thousand times--I was ready.

Trump was glancing around and grumbling about "those sneaky illegals. "Oh dear," I tapped him on the shoulder, "I have been mistaken, he was spotted on the 36th floor." Outrage sparked in Trump's eyes. "I'm so sorry, I'm an old man with an aging mind, you see."

Trump stormed back to the elevator, punching the 'up' button. "Old fool," he muttered.

As the door opened, revealing not an elevator but a mere elevator shaft, I smirked, "Oh you see, Donald dearest, the real fool here is you." A sharp push to the back was all it took and he was falling and flailing down into nothingness. The doors shut once more, cutting off his screams.

I decided it best to leave the scene of my crime, though it was hardly a crime. I was doing the world a favor. They would see.

They would see.