WASHINGTON D.C. – Once upon a time, in Washington D.C., a middle-aged Slovenian American model named Melania lived in a shining white house. Although she had everything her heart desired, the first lady was unhappy with this enchanted house, as well as her husband’s, the President’s, increasingly troublesome behavior. Over time, the President became more erratic and controlling, even forbidding his beautiful wife from ever venturing into the West Wing of the white house.
One day, two cartoonish white house servants, the vivacious Reince Priebus and that old stick-in-the-mud Steve Bannon, took a downtrodden Melania on a tour through the 132-room white mansion to try and cheer her up. Melania begged Preibus and Bannon to show her the West Wing, but they declined, instead suggesting the expansive wardrobe closet
“You have a wardrobe closet?” beamed Melania excitedly.
“Oh yes, indeed!” piped Bannon.
“With clothes!” said Priebus.
“Gads of clothes!” said Bannon.
“Mountains of clothes!” said Priebus.
“Forests of clothes!” said Bannon.
“Swamps of clothes!” said Priebus, getting carried away and forgetting about Melania.
“More clothes than you’ll ever be able to wear in a lifetime,” Bannon went on as he and Priebus marched off down the hall without Melania. “Clothes for every occasion that’s ever occurred, by every designer who’s ever set needle to thread! Ahahahaha!”
After cleverly ditching Priebus and Bannon, Melania’s curiosity took over and she ventured over to the forbidden West Wing. Tiptoeing quietly through dozens of offices and hundreds of staffers so nobody would notice her, Melania was drawn to one particular closed door with gargoyle handles. With a deep breath, she opened the door to a large oval office.
The office was dark and mysterious, full of cobwebs and discarded executive orders. Melania noticed an enormous shredded portrait on the wall of what appeared to be a tall thin black man in a suit, but Melania couldn’t quite make out the details. Just as she lifted up the shreds to reveal the man in the painting, a glistening sight drew her attention.
Sitting in the middle of the large desk, glowing with beauty and intensity, was a glass bell jar covering what appeared to be an enchanted rose, mysteriously floating upright. Melania timidly walked over to the desk and lifted up the jar, leaving the rose unprotected. As she reached out to touch the gorgeous plant, a shadow fell over her.
Her husband, the beastly Donald Trump, had been waiting in the corner the whole time. He leaped over to the desk, slammed the jar back over the rose in a protective posture, and turned his snarling face back towards the first lady. “Why did you come here?” he asked frighteningly.
“I’m sorry, I…” Melania started.
“I warned you never to COME HERE!” snarled the beast.
“I didn’t mean any harm,” Melania pleaded
“Do you realize what you could have done?!? RAAAAAAGH!!!” yelled trump as he thrashed the furniture around the room. “Get Out! GET OUT!!!!”
Melania fled the room as fast as she could. Trump fell down in despair, realizing he may have destroyed any chance that he might have had with Melania.
As Melania ran out, Reince Preibus tried to intercept, “Wh-Where are you going?”
“250 years of white house custom or no 250 years of white house custom, I can’t stay here another minute!” answered Melania defiantly as she ran towards the front door.
Steve Bannon called out, “oh no, wait, please wait!” but it was too late. Melania slammed the door shut behind her, as Bannon and Priebus bowed their head in sadness at her departure. Melania then ordered the staff to arrange for her immediate departure to Trump Tower in New York City. As secret service ushered her into her limo to the airport, the sound of wolf pack-like press and paparazzi could be heard howling outside the gates in the dark of the night.