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PART 1
Jeffrey and Donald board the Lolita Express heading to Jeffrey’s private island to celebrate Donald’s birthday. Jeffrey drinks champagne while Donald sips a Diet Coke, and tells Jeffrey he wishes Don Jr. and Eric had been girls so he’d have had more hot daughters like Ivanka.
Jeffrey tells Donald that Ghislaine Maxwell procured an “extra special batch of nubiles” for the birthday festivities, and Donald gives a toast to Jeffrey for being his best friend in the entire world. “You’re the only one who gets me, Jeff, who accepts the real me for me!” Donald says with a tear in his eye.
Then the plane hits some turbulence, and Donald is so frightened he shits his pants. The audible sploosh sound is instantly recognized by Jeffrey.
“Not again,” Jeffrey mutters to himself as Donald goes to the bathroom to change his clothes, shouting out to no one in particular, “Plane travel is rigged against me!”
Jeffrey rolls his eyes. “The girls hate it when he does this,” he mutters to himself, “and then they’re in bad moods the rest of the night because he reeks. This is a bad omen for the weekend already.”
Just then the plane starts to violently shake as it’s battered by the high altitude winds. Donald comes falling out of the bathroom with his trousers around his ankles and dark brown and yellow stains on his tighty-whities. “I knew I should have worn the Depends!” Donald scolds himself.
The plane nosedives, and plummets as Jeffrey and Donald are knocked around the inside. Donald falls into Jeffrey’s face crotch-first smashing his mushroom against Jeffrey’s cheek. Jeffrey feels it wiggle.
“Get off me!” Jeffrey screams, and pushes Donald away from him, but Donald weighs too much and doesn’t have the arm strength to pull himself into a seat. Jeffrey’s elbows buckle, and Donald falls on him again, this time his ass ramming right into Jeffrey’s face. The stench fills Jeffrey’s nostrils, and he pushes as hard as he can, but the pressure makes Donald fart again, and Jeffrey feels the liquidy vapor spray his cheeks and forehead. “I swear to God, if you just gave me pink eye again, you’re never coming back on my plane!”
Finally the plane levels off, and Jeffrey wipes his eyes with his shirt. “You need to lose some weight, you fat fuck,” he tells Donald as he buckles himself into his seat.
“I’m only 215 pounds!” Donald yells out, buckling himself too.
Donald barely clicks the belt before the plane hits a strong wind and nosedives again, and both of them slump back against their seats before they both black out as the plane plummets and then crashes. They return to consciousness only momentarily enough to drag themselves with blurry vision through the dark smoke out of the burning plane, and they crawl across the sand of a beach and pass out.
Donald wakes up first. It is early morning, and the sun is golden but not yet hot. He leans up and wipes some soot out of his eyes. His makeup is all smeared, and his hair is a mess draping down one side of his head to his shoulder, the other side now revealed as totally bald without the comb over. His hair is singed all over because the decades of caked hairspray have left it extremely flammable.
Donald sees Jeffrey lying nearby, and can see that he is breathing. Jeffrey doesn’t know it yet, but the accident shredded and burned his penis and testicles clean off, and now he’s a eunuch.
Donald looks around and sees they’ve miraculously crash landed on a remote island in the Caribbean. He deduces that the pilot is dead, and so is Stephen Miller who had come along. Stephen had ill-fatedly chosen to sleep in his coffin in the plane’s storage room — he liked it there because it was pitch black, a little damp, and musty — but the plane’s entire weight crashed down upon his coffin and obliterated his body.
Donald then scans the island and does a double take when he sees a teenage girl in a bikini far off in the tree line looking at him. Then he sees several other girls in bikinis climbing out of the plane with the little remaining food and supplies not burned.
Donald crawls over to Jeffrey and shakes him awake. “Jeffrey, I think we made it to your island after all! Look!”
Jeffrey slowly wakes up and assesses the situation. “Wow, Ghislaine did well,” he smiles. “But wait… this doesn’t look like my island.”
“They all look like Ivanka!” Donald squeals. “Ghislaine is the best! If I’m ever president, and if the sex-trafficking ring finally gets busted up, I promise I’ll let Ghislaine live as long as she keeps quiet about my involvement with all the sex-trafficking! I’ll make sure to move her to an extremely minimum security prison, and then eventually give her a pardon!”
Donald looks around.
“Wait, where is Ghislaine?” he asks. Then he’s startled to notice the girls are all gone. “Where did the nubiles go?”
Jeffrey yells out, “Wait a minute, what do you mean you’ll let Ghislaine live? Do I not get to live in this scenario of you becoming president? What the Hell, man?”
“Relax, Jeffrey!” Donald very fakely consoles him. “BFFs forever. Donald J. Trump never betrays or backstabs his friends, and never throws anyone loyal to him under the bus for personal expediency!”
Then Jeffrey bends over in pain. “Oh, man, I feel like my crotch is on fire. Jeffrey examines his crotch, and it’s visible that his jeans had burned off and his penis was grey and ashy. Jeffrey touches it, and it turns to dust and blows away. He’s now as smooth as a Ken doll.
“Noooooooooooooooo!” Jeffrey screams. “Why, God, why me?”
“Dude,” Donald says, “do you have, like, any self-awareness? Karma got me too, look at my beloved hair!”
Donald’s eyes then open wide, and he grimaces. “I’m afraid to look at my own little guy,” he says. He slowly reaches down to touch his junk and inspect it. His suit pants are cut up, and there’s a moderate amount of blood present, but his gonads are intact. He breathes a sigh of relief. However, the fecal residue from his two sharting incidents onboard are beginning to infect the wounds and burn.
Then one of the girls clears her throat. Donald and Jeffrey gasp when they see a dozen of them real close, and all are holding a variety of blunt weapons: a crowbar, a knife, a sword, and one is holding the giant golf trophy Donald had awarded himself in the last weekend’s tournament at his New Jersey Bedminster course and brought along to show Jeffrey. He had named himself the first place finisher even after viral videos online showed his caddies throwing him new balls close to the holes when the balls he hit went into the middle of water hazards. Several eye-witnesses also claimed they saw Donald multiple times drive his golf cart real quick to the hole ahead of everyone else, and then kick his opponents’ balls much further away.
Donald smiles at the girls. “I got first place in the tournament that trophy is from,” he informs them. “No one could believe how many holes-in-one I shot.”
A girl holding a can of pepper spray steps over to Donald and sprays his scratched up crotch so that his wounds burn wildly and he collapses to the ground in agony. Then the girl holding the trophy smashes it against Jeffrey’s head and knocks him out. A third girl pops open a can of Coke she had found in the plane wreckage, and pours it on Donald’s crying face.
He tastes it, and then shrieks, “Is that high fructose corn syrup? I specifically told Coca-Cola they couldn’t do that anymore! Get it away from me! I can only have Diet Coke. I’m watching my 215 pound figure!” Donald gargles on the soda for a moment, and then begs, “I need aspartame. One of you get me aspartame! It’s an emergency! I need a Diet Coke, or the withdrawal will kill me! My heart will burst!”
The girls all laugh. The one holding still the broken column of Donald’s trophy says, “We’re going to have fun with these pervs.”
“What are we going to do with them?” one asks.
“Make a human centipede out of them?” another offers. “I think the fat one with cankles should be the end.”
“Human centipede would be a good way to finish them off,” says the one with the trophy as she laughs with sinister eyes. “But I’m sure we can think up much more fun than just that!”
Donald screams, “You’ll never get me to sign a nondisclosure agreement for any of this! I’m going to sue you! I’ll sue you all for $5 billion each!”
“The Supreme Court on this island is made up of only girls who hate rapists,” says the girl who suggested the human centipede idea. “And our court has given all girls immunity to do anything they want to rapists!”
A girl with stripes of blood on her cheeks as war paint says, “On this island we are making the matriarchy great again.”
All the girls laugh maniacally, and Donald passes out from fright and the burning pain of the pepper spray in his mangled crotch. 🥃
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The Halfway Post 