The date is March 29, 2017...

A Story by Sir_Gruffles

Just a short story that I came up with on the road home this evening.

It is 69 days into Donald Trump’s presidential reign…

The economy has fallen faster than a bowling ball dropped from Trump Tower’s penthouse.

The country is in ruin.
Stores are closed.
Cities emptied.
Families broken apart.

Any remaining American flags that can still fly remain at half-mast for the death of our once great nation.

The White House itself is in shambles.

Graffiti tags of “F**k Trump” are scattered across all of the exterior walls, while a few can be seen inside the House, for those who dared to venture inside.

The President sits alone in the Oval Office, head in his hands.
The windows are broken, with the various bricks and rocks that created them lying across the floor.
Pictures of his now ex-wife and family lay face down on the resolute desk.

Unbeknownst to him, the remaining survivors of the country have banded together to put a stop to all of this…

A knock comes from the entrance to the Oval Office.

An aging man enters, with Trump not even raising his head to greet the man. He knows why the man is here.

“Mr. President…” the aging man began, before Trump looked up and interrupted him.

“Bernie….I….” Trump tried to reason, but Mr. Sanders was not there for a social visit, despite the growing grin on his face.

“You’re fired.”

© 2016 Sir_Gruffles

Author's Note

I am by no means a fantastic writer, and I only barely started writing again.
Mostly fanfics and stuff like that, but I wanted to try this and it just flowed out.

I hope you enjoyed.