The Life and Times of Donald Trump’s Bowel Movement

I started out life as a burger. He ate me with a knife and fork. God damn it. I don’t deserve this.

I began to make my descent into the gloom, twisting and writhing my way through hateful, vapid passages. How many burgers do Americans eat every year? I could have lived a normal life but instead I’m doomed to passed through this torturous wreck. Sure, many will suffer a lot more, many of them because of this obscenity I am a part of. But still, this feels like a very unique hell.

Eventually I found myself at long last being digested. This horrible journey would shortly be at an end. I tried to remain as whole as I could, begrudging every morsel that would be used to fuel him. During my journey, I had heard much from him, and well, let’s just say it takes a piece of shit to know a piece of shit.

Let me tell you, my people are surprisingly proud. We understand what society thinks of us. But we know we are a necessary part of the world. That being said as I made my way towards leaving my host I felt every bit as disgusting as society thought me.

I am very close to the exit. I am beginning to see glimpses of light. Finally, this is going to be over. Hopefully I’ll find a way to move on. Hang on. I recognise this place. I’ve been here before. Oh, for god sake I’m coming out completely the wrong way!

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