We all love a cuddly, heart-warming Xmas story, but this time, we’re heading more into Grinchy territory.
It was a cold, cold winter’s evening, and three shivering silhouttes hurled themselves out of their tottering barks and swam towards the East Coast of Florida.
Just by chance, the lord of all the land perceived the travellers from Orient far, as they staggered onto the beach.
Immediately yelling for his minions, the three Persians were immediately surrounded.
Show us your booty!
Melania rolled her eyes, as if to say:
Not that old chestnut again!
Huddling together for warmth, consumed with fear, and yet with a certain defiant glint of ageless wisdom in their eyes, the Three Wise Men disclosed their treasures.
My name is Caspar! I bring fool’s gold to the king of all the land, to warn you that what power Heaven has given, Heaven may yet take away! Learn righteousness and justice, or learn the penalty of all tyrants!
Trump howled in outrage, and the three men stood defiantly as the mob of Herodian thugs began to bawl and shout.
The second man boldly pronounced:
Melchior am I! I bring adulterated frankincense to remind you of the sacrifice of true piety! Not all who say ‘Lord, Lord,’ shall enter into the kingdom! I intercede and tremble for a people whose lips are near to the Most High, but whose hearts are distant!
By this point, Donald and his boys had enough, and he gave them an unmistakable gesture of intent.
The third man strode defiantly worth, well within a chubby fist’s distance of the President, and said:
And I, for my part, my name is Balthasar! I am here to provide stolen myrrh for the burial of virtue: for whosoever mocks the poor in spirit, the emptyhanded, the widow, the orphan, the infirm, the one who feels a stranger, cast out upon the land and cut off from the care of men: if no-one else will show love to these poor, forgotten creatures, permit me to make so bold! We may be strangers, but as another wise man of the East has said, ‘All within the Four Seas are brothers!’
Unable to bear it any longer, the mob opened fire on the Three Holy Innocents. A child stood by and wailed. Her mother gasped but said nothing, for fear of persecution.
Trump strode over menacingly to the child and smirked.
You are a… a, a, a, VERY BAD MAN!
The child shrieked.
Trump laughed and made a mocking gesture with his hands and lips.
He was very amused to see the child’s ‘simplistic’ view of good and evil. Like Herod of old, he was disquieted and disturbed, to see how naive and innocent a child’s vision of the world was. As though ‘good and evil’ were really so simple. As though ‘heroes’ and ‘villains’ were somehow black and white. This pain gnawed away at his rotten heart, and he could get no rest, no matter how he tried to tell himself that infants and other simpletons knew nothing about the real world, and had best shut their goddamn traps about things they weren’t intelligent, or… or JADED and CYNICAL enough to understand.
The mother drew the child close to her, fearing the tremendous wrath that was come upon them all.
Trump spat and walked away.
The mother and child held each other close and wept, and wept, and wept.
That night, in bed, Trump tossed and turned, and could get no sleep.
Eventually, he dialed a sycophant and said:
Find me that child.
The robotic voice on the other end of the telephone line lifelessly murmured:
Yes sir. We’ll do whatever we have to do.
After searching for 40 days and 40 nights, the child could not be found.
Perhaps the child’s time had simply not yet come…