This is how ww3 startted:o
Donald Trump looked at the banana rock in his hands and felt mad.
He walked over to the window and reflected on his great surroundings. He had always hated fluffy Stohrbaks with its weak, weary windows. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel mad.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Vladimir Putin. Vladimir was a fuzzy elephant with feathery moles and dirty ankles.
Donald gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a terrible, awesome, cocoa drinker with short moles and spiky ankles. His friends saw him as a jealous, jittery juggler. Once, he had even jumped into a river and saved a square deaf person.
But not even a terrible person who had once jumped into a river and saved a square deaf person, was prepared for what Vladimir had in store today.
The hail pounded like rampaging humming birds, making Donald happy.
As Donald stepped outside and Vladimir came closer, he could see the shaky glint in his eye.
Vladimir gazed with the affection of 778 cute damp donkeys. He said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want love."
Donald looked back, even more happy and still fingering the banana rock. "Vladimir, pls make love to me bb boi," he replied.
They looked at each other with pouty feelings, like two old-fashioned, odd owls singing at a very cold orgy, which had classical music playing in the background and two soapy uncles gyrating to the beat.
Donald studied Vladimir's feathery moles and dirty ankles. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," began Donald in apologetic tones, "but I don't feel the same way, and I never will. I just don't love you Vladimir."
Vladimir looked blushy, his emotions raw like a bloody, bored blade.
Donald could actually hear Vladimir's emotions shatter into 2126 pieces. Then the fuzzy elephant hurried away into the distance.
Not even a mug of cocoa would calm Donald's nerves tonight.
//ashley im sorry
