Donold J. Grump #23

The Loneliest King

The grand bedroom of the White House was a testament to excess. Gold accents lined every edge, from the doorframes to the legs of the furniture, and even the bedposts were gilded with intricate carvings of Grump’s initials: DJG. The room was designed to exude power, but tonight it felt cavernous and cold, like the world's most luxurious tomb.

President Donold J. Grump stood in the center of the room, arms crossed, scowling at the line of terrified White House staffers who were trying to appease his impossible demands.

“I said I wanted new colors!” he barked, his voice echoing off the marble floors. “Not this trash! Who even uses yellow anymore? What am I, a banana? Green? What is this, the Wizard of Oz? And don’t even get me started on blue—it’s just sad!”

One of the braver staffers stepped forward, trembling slightly. “Sir, these are the exact colors you personally requested last week—”

Grump’s face turned a shade of red that matched the MAGA hats his supporters wore. “WRONG! I never said that! I don’t make mistakes! You people just don’t listen!”

Sparky, the iridescent dragon that only Grump could see, hovered beside him, perched on the edge of the gold-plated minibar like a sarcastic gargoyle. His glittering scales reflected the chandelier’s light, and he tapped his clawed fingers on the countertop.

“Donny, hate to break it to you,” Sparky said, “but these are the same colors you picked. Remember? You called them your ‘presidential palette.’ You even said, and I quote, ‘These colors are gonna be yuge.’”

Grump shot Sparky a withering glare. “You’re supposed to be on my side, Sparky! What kind of dragon are you, anyway?”

“The imaginary kind,” Sparky replied dryly, flapping his wings lazily.

Grump turned back to the staffers, pointing a trembling finger toward the door. “Get out! All of you! And don’t come back until you bring me something better—like gold-plated platinum or... or maybe neon metallic! Something big league!”

The servants scrambled out of the room like frightened mice, practically tripping over each other in their haste to escape. The heavy double doors slammed shut behind them, leaving Grump alone with Sparky and the suffocating silence of his oversized bedroom.

Grump let out a dramatic sigh and waddled over to his king-sized bed. He collapsed onto it with a loud groan, his purple ermine robe sprawling around him like a deflated parachute. He reached for his enormous teddy bear—a custom-made stuffed animal wearing a miniature Grump tie—and clutched it tightly against his chest.

For a moment, the room was quiet. Then, to Sparky’s surprise, Grump began to sniffle.

“Donny?” Sparky asked, fluttering closer. “What’s wrong?”

Grump buried his face in the teddy bear, his voice muffled. “I’m... lonely, Sparky.”

The dragon tilted his head. “Lonely? You’re the president of the United States. You’ve got people around you 24/7.”

Grump lifted his head, his eyes watery and rimmed with red. “Yeah, people who want something from me. Loyalty. Power. My endorsement. But not... not me. Nobody wants me.”

Sparky perched on the edge of the bed, his expression softening. “Come on, Donny. You’ve got Melanomia, don’t you?”

Grump let out a bitter laugh and sat up, clutching the teddy bear tighter. “Melanomia? Don’t make me laugh. She doesn’t love me, Sparky. She’s got spies everywhere, waiting for me to slip up. If I so much as smiled at another woman, she’d know before I even finished smiling! And then she’d come storming in here, screaming her head off, dragging Secret Service with her to throw the poor girl out. Do you know how humiliating that would be? The president of the United States, kicked out of his own bedroom by his wife?”

He shook his head, his double chin wobbling. “No, Sparky. It’s better this way. Safer. Lonelier... but safer.”

Sparky tilted his head. “You could always, you know, try talking to her.”

Grump stared at him like he’d just suggested giving away Maga Logo for free. “Are you insane? Talk to her? Do you know what she did the last time I tried to kiss her in public? She wore that stupid hat with the solid brim and used it to block me!”

He threw his hands in the air. “The whole world saw it, Sparky! They were laughing at me! Do you know how that feels? To be humiliated like that on a global stage?”

Sparky rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Probably not great.”

Grump’s eyes filled with tears again as he hugged the teddy bear tighter. “She doesn’t love me, Sparky. She doesn’t even like me. And I haven’t had a woman in my bed since... since Rainy Daniels!”

Sparky raised an eyebrow. “Wasn’t that over ten years ago?”

Grump sniffled. “Yes! Ten long, cold, lonely years. And you know what the worst part is? People still make jokes about it. Like that stupid rumor about me and Laura Looney on the plane. Total lies!”

Sparky smirked. “So... nothing happened with Laura?”

Grump scoffed. “Even I have some dignity, Sparky. Do you know what she asked me to call her? ‘Mommy Patriot.’ Can you believe that? I’m the president—I don’t call anyone ‘Mommy!’”

Sparky cackled. “Yeah, that’s... a bit much.”

Grump slumped back against the pillows, his voice breaking. “The truth is, Sparky, I can’t trust anyone. Everyone wants something from me. Everyone. I may be the most powerful man in the world, but every night I go to bed alone... and every morning I wake up alone.”

Sparky sighed and fluttered down to the bed, landing beside him. “Donny, you’ve got me.”

Grump looked at the dragon, his lip trembling. “You mean that, Sparky? You’re my friend?”

“Sure,” Sparky said, shrugging. “I mean, I’m a hallucination brought on by your mushroom habit, but I’ve stuck around longer than most people. That counts for something, right?”

Grump’s eyes watered again, but this time with gratitude. “Thanks, Sparky. You’re the best. My best friend.”

Sparky smirked. “Your only friend.”

Grump laughed weakly, then sighed. “You know, Sparky... sometimes I wonder if it’s me. Maybe I’m the problem.”

Sparky tilted his head. “Well, yeah. You kind of are.”

Grump blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Donny, you yell at people, you punish them for laughing at you, and you take away their health insurance just because you’re mad. That’s not exactly a recipe for friendship.”

Grump frowned. “But I’m the president! People are supposed to respect me!”

“Respect isn’t fear, Donny,” Sparky said. “If you want people to like you, maybe try being... nicer?”

Grump looked horrified. “Nicer? Sparky, I’m a winner. Winners don’t do nice.”

Sparky shook his head. “And that’s why you go to bed hugging a teddy bear.”

Grump didn’t respond. He climbed under the covers, still holding the bear, and flicked off the light. The room fell into silence, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning.

In the darkness, Sparky’s iridescent form glowed faintly as he perched on the dresser, watching over the president.

“Goodnight, Donny,” he said softly.

Grump’s voice was barely audible. “Goodnight, Sparky.”

And with that, the loneliest king in the world drifted off to sleep, dreaming of a world where he wasn’t just feared... but maybe, just maybe, loved.