SH Exclusive: Who is Donald Trump? Part One

from Tyler Martin

March 8, 2016, 4:03 p.m.

I have some explaining to do. I promised I would post every Wednesday; to be truthful, that was only a cover. I needed time to investigate properly without raising suspicion; I figured what better way than to post once and then not post again for weeks, seemingly failing on my promise to the StoriesHouse faithful. What I’m about to tell you may sound preposterous, but I promise that if you stay with me, your life will change.

I investigated the enigma that is Donald Trump, and what I found has shaken me deeply. I will try to recount my findings here, but I am afraid that they are coming for me now. Hopefully this makes it out in time.

My story started with a question: why? Seriously, why could anyone support Donald Trump? Besides his obvious ignorance, he lacks any substance and is supremely unqualified to hold any office, even mayor of Pawnee (RIP Garry). Why would anyone vote for someone who has no political background whatsoever to lead the country? Well, I wasn’t satisfied with merely asking the questions, I had to know the answers. I began to formulate a plan: attend a Trump ~~Klan Meeting~~ rally; ask the attendees seemingly innocuous yet cleverly-crafted questions; record the results for further analysis; and, finally, approach any staffers to see if I could get any answers from them. Straightforward enough, right? Well, I was dead wrong.

My journey started at the Trump rally in (location redacted). It was there that I saw the unbridled nationalism reminiscent of early 20th century Germany or Italy. Also, Charlie Chaplin’s masterpiece, The Great Dictator. Seriously, watch that movie and tell me Trump does not remind you of Napaloni. Funny stuff, great message and wonderful satire, truly Chaplin’s greatest movie, but I digress. I noticed right away how much these people truly believed that Trump would Make America Great Again. Quite frankly, it made me sad because I saw true belief in these people’s eyes. I also saw desperation. Trump has been telling desperate people who truly believe the world is going to hell in a hand basket everything that they want to hear, and he is so charismatic that they believe him. Belief is powerful, but true, deeply inherent belief will trump regular belief any day. Once I experienced the true extent and fervor of Trump’s support, I realized that these people could not be reasoned with. I had to go undercover lest I be marked as an outsider.

In the heaviest southern accent that I could muster, I began chatting up my neighbors. “Buddy, ain’t you glad watching this here? This is gonna be history!” I really poured on the accent. “Why yes, I am quite excited for this moment. To be part of history in the making is something that, I think, satiates an innate desire within every single human to strive for something greater than his or her self. I think Mr. Trump makes the common person feel like they matter, something long gone from American politics. What do you think?” replied that asshole who was obviously a plant meant to thwart anyone who might derail the rally. So I doubled down. “Yeah man, I agree. Fuck ISIS and let’s deport them Mexicans! Do ya think that Trump could make that wall of his Vice President? That’d sure be cool.” “Ummmm... sure,” the plant replied with an exasperated sigh. He then turned away and started talking to another supporter. Clearly I had cast away all suspicion with my superior acting skills. At that point, I decided to find a staff member in the hopes that they would provide me with any useful information for my investigative pursuits. I grabbed my flask and took a swig of the bourbon; I needed to completely commit to my role. The one swig, however, turned into the downing of the entire flask in one inglorious gulp. This is important for reasons that will become clear in time, however, suffice it to say that ended up being a turning point in my time at the rally, a turning point which I am not proud of.

Freshly intoxicated, I made my way to the nearest staff member and began chatting with (read: loudly talking at) her. I figured that I would need to use my journalistic prowess to trick her into giving me the answers to the hard-hitting questions. “HOW DOES TRUMP GIT AROUND THE COUNTRY?” I smoothly questioned. “Hi, sir! Mr. Trump tours the country in a bus like most other candidates! Good question, sir!” Nailed it. She was talking down to me in a manner similar to that of a Kindergarten teacher helping the kid who just doesn’t quite understand. I pressed, “CAN I GET YOUR NUMBER, PRETTY LADY?” Quickly, her understanding yet paradoxically condescending smile turned into a not so paradoxically condescending scowl. “You should leave.” Never discouraged, I continued forward, “WHY? ARE YOU PART OF THE NEW WORLD ORDER AND HAVE A STRICT GUIDELINE AS TO WHO YOU CAN ASSOCIATE WITH AND HAVE AN ARRANGED MARRIAGE TO PRESERVE THE PURITY OF THE SECRET RULERS’ BLOODLINES?” Subtle yet direct, I knew I would trip her up with this cleverly crafted question. “SECURITY!” she screamed as I realized that I had exposed myself.

I ran. I ran as far away and as fast as I could in a seemingly futile attempt to evade the Shadow Masters. Luckily, using only my foxlike cunning and lighter with which I ignited an unassuming ficus tree to serve as a brilliant distraction, I made my way out without being apprehended. Unfortunately, I went out the wrong door and ended up further in the lion’s den. There before me on the other side of the door marked “AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY” stood several disgruntled goons. Again, using only my catlike reflexes and a Taser I had strategically placed in my underwear before the rally, I defeated the soldiers of the Army of Darkness. At this point, I reasoned that I had already arrived at the point of no return and I had no choice but to keep going. I ran down the hallway and arrived at another guarded door, this one reading “TO BUS”. Suddenly, my next move dawned on me. I approached the security guards with panic painted on my face. “Hey you know you aren’t sup—“ before could finish I exclaimed, “THERE’S A PISSED OFF ISLAM ON THE LOOSE! HE SET FIRE TO AN INNOCENT FICUS AND TASERED THE SECURITY GUARDS AT THE ENTRANCE TO HERE! GO GETEM AND THEN BOMB HIS FAMILY IN IRAQISTAN!” Hook, line and sinker. The guards, obviously horrified at the fact of a Muslim’s presence immediately ran off to investigate. Xenophobic asswipes. I then proceed to the bus and contorted my body so that I could stow under the bathroom sink. Also, side note, all of his bathroom fixtures were solid gold, so fuck that guy. Anyways, after a few tense minutes, I heard security guards inspecting the bus to no avail. At this point I realized that I needed to be in top shape for the treacherous journey ahead of me. I broke out my emergency flask, finished it, and fell asleep.


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