Donold J. Grump #13

The Loyalty Christmas

The grand ballroom at Maga Logo sparkled with over-the-top holiday excess. Every inch of the cavernous space screamed Christmas cheer—or perhaps just screamed. Enormous garlands of plastic holly wrapped the pillars like green boa constrictors, while oversized candy canes leaned haphazardly against the walls. A ten-foot-tall golden Christmas tree, dripping with fake rubies and sapphires, dominated the center of the room.

Two thrones sat on a raised dais at the far end. One was enormous, gilded in gold, with velvet cushions and armrests carved to resemble eagles clutching wreaths. The other was small, plain, and slightly off-center, looking as though it had been borrowed from a child’s playroom.

The guests—fifty of Donold J. Grump’s closest allies and sycophants—sat at five round tables decorated with gaudy crystal centerpieces and far too many candles. The guest list was a who’s who of Grumpworld: his cabinet nominees, including Kash Kartel, Pam Blondi, Wiley E. Suzzi, Robert Kennard, Pete Hogs-Breath, Russ I.S. Bought, Kari Lyon-Fakir, and Kimmy Gargoyle, along with Faux News stalwarts Laura Ding-Dong, Shawn Vanity, Maria Bizarra-Rama, Greg Gutless, and Kaykeigh Mega-Ninny.

The room buzzed with anticipation, the guests exchanging whispers as the opening notes of “YMCA” blasted from hidden speakers.

The ballroom doors swung open, revealing Donold J. Grump in a sleek black tuxedo, his face beaming with smug satisfaction. Melanomia, stunning in a floor-length red dress, walked beside him, her lips pressed into a tight line of disapproval.

As the Grumps strutted down the aisle, the guests leapt to their feet in unison, forming the letters to the beat of the music:

“Y!” Arms shot upward.
“M!” Elbows bent.
“C!” Arms curved outward.
“A!” Arms straightened into a triangle.

Grump strode forward with exaggerated flair, shaking hands and grinning like a man who had just secured a victory no one else was aware of.

Melanomia trailed behind, her scowl deepening with every step. Grump reached for her hand, only for her to swat it away with a sharp, deliberate motion.

“She’s radiant tonight,” Sparky muttered, invisible at Grump’s shoulder.

“She’s furious,” Grump whispered back, his grin never faltering. “She’ll come around. She always does.”

The music faded as Grump and Melanomia reached the dais. Grump ascended the steps and lowered himself onto the oversized throne, patting the armrests as if confirming their loyalty. Melanomia sat stiffly on the smaller throne, her arms crossed, her expression thunderous.

A side door creaked open, and Stevie Boot-Liquor entered the room, walking carefully as if afraid to drop the treasures he carried. Draped over his left arm was a luxurious purple robe lined with ermine, and in his right hand, balanced on a velvet pillow, was a golden crown.

The guests fell silent as Stevie approached the dais, his every step slow and reverent.

Grump rose dramatically, spreading his arms. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s Christmas Day—a day of loyalty, love, and celebration. And today, I am here to crown myself...”

He grabbed the robe from Stevie, whipping it around his shoulders with a theatrical flourish.

“...The King of Loyalty!”

The room erupted in applause as Grump lifted the crown from the pillow and placed it on his own head with exaggerated precision, tilting it slightly like a modern-day Napoleon.

Melanomia muttered something in Ukrainian, her tone icy.

Grump turned to the crowd, his arms wide. “Today is not just Christmas! Today, I announce the most important event in the history of this great country—The Loyalty Parade! Soon these will be sweeping the nation as Stevie Boot-Liquor begins training new recruits. We will need more and more Sniffers to to ensure total and utter loyalty to me and the MAGA movement.  

The guests gasped in unison, their reactions carefully calibrated. Someone near the back shouted, “Brilliant!”

Grump nodded, basking in their adoration. “This parade will celebrate loyalty, the most important quality a person can possess. It will separate the loyal from the disloyal, the strong from the weak.”

Two attendants wheeled in a large cart piled high with fuzzy orange slippers. The bunny ears and bushy white tails on each pair gave the slippers a cheerfully absurd appearance.

“But first,” Grump continued, “we’ll begin right here, in this room. Each of you will prove your devotion to me by wearing these—my new Grump Bunny Slippers.”

The attendants began distributing the slippers, and the guests obediently slipped them on, their nervous laughter filling the room.

Grump scanned the crowd. “Let’s start with some volunteers. Pam Blondi! Kash Kartel! Shawn Vanity! Kimmy Gargoyle! Pete Hogs-Breath! Step forward and prove your loyalty.”

The chosen five shuffled to the front of the room, their bunny slippers flopping with every step. Stevie Boot-Liquor approached the first in line: Pam Blondi.

“Ms. Blondi,” Stevie said, clearing his throat. “Please hold your shoes behind your back and face the crowd.”

Pam complied, her wide grin teetering between confident and terrifying. Stevie leaned in, inhaling deeply. His face twitched as he processed the scent.

“Hmmm,” he muttered, scribbling in his notebook. “Conflicted. A strong foundation, but... a faint whiff of opportunism. Loyalty rating: 6 out of 10.”

Grump nodded solemnly. “Expected. Sharks are sharks, after all.”

Kash Kartel was next. Stevie sniffed his shoes, his expression tightening.

“Conflicted again,” Stevie announced. “Rating: 5 out of 10. Could go either way.”

Grump frowned. “We’ll keep an eye on him.”

When Stevie reached Shawn Vanity, he recoiled immediately, his nose wrinkling.

“Overwhelming,” Stevie stammered, his voice shaking. “Too loyal. Almost... slimy. Like a low-life, self-centered, slimy leech .”

Shawn grinned proudly, apparently mistaking the insult for a compliment.

Grump smirked. “Slimy loyalty. Dedication at any cost. I like that.”

Kimmy Gargoyle stepped forward. Stevie sniffed her shoes, then sniffed again, his brow furrowed.

“There’s... nothing,” Stevie said, his voice uncertain. “It’s blank. I can’t read her.”

Grump burst into laughter. “Of course you can’t! Her brain’s too empty to leave a scent!”

The crowd erupted into nervous laughter as Kimmy blinked slowly, seemingly unfazed.

Finally, it was Pete Hogs-Breath’s turn.

Stevie approached Pete cautiously, sniffing his shoes once, then again. His face twisted in horror.

“Negative,” Stevie gasped, dropping the shoes as if they’d burned him. “It’s... it’s pure disloyalty!”

The room froze. Pete’s face turned pale, and he fell to his knees.

“Please!” Pete cried. “I’m loyal! I swear!”

Stevie pointed a trembling finger at him, his voice rising to a scream. “TRAITOR!”

The Arrest

Grump shot to his feet, his crown tilting precariously. “Guards! Arrest him!”

Two Secret Service agents emerged from the shadows, their movements swift and practiced. They grabbed Pete by the arms, snapping handcuffs onto his wrists.

“No!” Pete wailed as they hauled him to his feet. “It’s a mistake! I love you, Mr. President-elect! I’ve always been loyal!”

Grump folded his arms, glaring down at him. “Loyalty isn’t about words, Pete. It’s about actions. And your actions—” He paused for dramatic effect. “—have spoken loud and clear.”

The room erupted into whispers as the agents dragged Pete toward the door. His bunny slippers flopped pathetically with each step, the sound echoing in the stunned silence.

As the doors closed behind Pete, Grump turned to the crowd, adjusting his crown.

“Let this be a lesson,” he declared, his voice booming. “Loyalty is everything. And those who betray me will pay the price.”

The guests burst into applause, their bunny ears flopping with every clap.

Melanomia crossed her arms, muttering something under her breath in Ukrainian.

Grump ignored her, basking in the glow of his triumph.