Once upon a time, there was a huge star—the biggest star—named Donald. I mean, you had to see this star. It was so high in the sky and so bright—you wouldn’t even believe it. This Donald star, he had the best temperature. I mean, you really wouldn’t believe it. His temperature was way better than all the other stars in the sky. He was hot. Super hot. Every night he’d look at his reflection in the ocean and say, “You’re fire!”
This Donald star was such a powerful star he could do whatever he wanted. All the other little loser dwarf stars were jealous of him. But it’s not his fault that he took advantage of the billion-year head-start he’d had! That’s just smart. That’s star business.
Again, this Donald star—very bright, very powerful. Everyone loved him. Especially pussycats. But listen, kid, this is a long bedtime story, so from now on I”ll just call them pussies. Pussy is catchier—I’m great at marketing. Here’s the thing about pussies: they love stars. There’s, like, a gravitational pull there. They go feral. And, like I said, Donald was the biggest star of all. So he had all kinds of pussies. I’m talkin’ Persian, Siamese, American Shorthairs (those ones are very in right now), strays, and, he wasn’t proud of it, but even a couple of Garfields, if you know what I mean. They were fat.
What’s wrong? You need a glass of milk or something? What—you don’t like your story? Only losers don’t like this story. I’m telling you, this is a great story. You know who loves this story? Sean Hannity. Call him. Call Hannity. O.K., now pipe down. I was just getting to the good part.
So anyway, there’s all these pussies. And when Donald the star sees one he wants, he just goes up and grabs it with his extra-large star hands. See, when you’re a star, they just let you do that. When you’re a star, you can do anything. Do you get what I’m saying here?
Huh? You think the star is mean? You’re dead wrong. This star is so frickin’ nice. He coulda said so many mean things about these pussies. Some of these pussies get real big, like pigs. It’s a problem. A real problem. You know who’s a pig? Rosie. But I’m not gonna tell you about any of that, ’cause that’s some nasty stuff, and you’re just a little girl.
Oh, you still don’t like this star? What’s not to like about this star? This is a likable star. A very likable star. He’s ahead in all the star polls. Except for the five or so that are rigged. Stop interrupting me. This is a nice story. You’re lucky to be hearing this story. Tiffany never heard this story.
Anyway, back to business, that’s what I’m good at. I’m gonna skip ahead a few light-years—I don’t have to disclose everything. Point is, Donald the star said something to his best friend, who’s a bush—you know what a bush is? It’s a short tree. So he’s talking to this friend, let’s call him Bushy. And Donald the star was telling Bushy the same story I’m telling you, about grabbing pussies. And maybe Donald said something along the lines of being on her like a bitch. Which is a female dog. You’re a smart girl. You know that. Nothing wrong with female dogs.
Why are you sniffling? What, are you dying? You got pneumonia? Oh, you’re crying now? C’mon, this is just bedroom talk. It’s just bedroom talk. Stop crying. You don’t deserve my story. I’ve written best-sellers, you know. How many books have you written? Yeah, that’s what I thought. What are you whimpering about? I never said that! I never called anyone a pig! Who told you that? Jake Tapper? He’s a liar. He’s a sad loser liar pants on fire. He’s got cooties. Don’t listen to him.
O.K., I’ve had enough. I’m turning off the light. What? You’re scared? What, do you mean you’re scared of my story? I didn’t even tell a story. I came in this room three seconds ago. This is ridiculous. You’re lying through your baby teeth. You’re the one who told a story. And, if I’m being honest, it wasn’t even a good story. You know nothing about stories. You wanna hear a story? I could tell you a story. I could tell you a story that would give you nightmares.
Once upon a time, there was this Muslim liar born in Kenya . . .