Donold J. Grump #26

The End of Sparky: Donold Grump’s Final Hallucination

The Oval Office was dark, save for the dim glow of a TV playing on mute.

President Donold Grump sat slumped in his chair, still in his purple robe and Grump-brand adult diaper, mindlessly scrolling through Zitter.

It was a disaster.

The meeting with Zelensky had blown up.

• No sanctions on Russia.

• No security guarantees if Putin invaded again.

• No real deal—just empty words.

Even Faux News was struggling to spin it.

The headlines were brutal:

   "Grump Gives Putin a Green Light—Ukraine Left to Die."
   "No Consequences for Russia? What Was He Thinking?"
   "Is This The End of NATO?"

Grump snapped off the TV and buried his face in his hands.

That’s when he heard it.

The sound of wings.

A small burst of fire flickered in the dark.

And then, a voice.

"YOU IDIOT!"

Sparky had returned.

Sparky’s Final Confrontation

Sparky landed on the Resolute Desk, wings flared, eyes burning.

“I LEAVE FOR FIVE MINUTES, AND YOU HAND UKRAINE TO PUTIN?!”

Grump blinked at him.

“You’re back?”

Sparky huffed.

“NOT BY CHOICE! The Big Guy sent me down here because your emotional state was reading as ‘too pathetic even for hell.’”

Grump frowned.

“Who’s ‘the Big Guy’?”

Sparky rolled his eyes.

“The one person you should have listened to but never did.”

Grump snorted.

“Pfft. Putin?”

Sparky clawed at the desk in frustration.

“JESUS, YOU MORON!”

Grump waved him off.

“Oh, please. That guy’s woke.”

Sparky took a deep breath, trying not to explode.

“Let’s talk about what you just did.”

He snapped his claws, and suddenly, the air filled with numbers, flashing in flames.

•    340,000 Russian soldiers dead.

• 200,000 Ukrainians dead.

• 19,546 Ukrainian children kidnapped.

• $73 billion in U.S. aid spent—but only $44 billion on military assistance.

• Dozens of Ukrainian cities bombed to rubble.

Sparky flew up and hovered inches from Grump’s face.

“AND YOU JUST HANDED PUTIN A FREE PASS TO DO IT ALL AGAIN!”

Grump rolled his eyes.

“Big deal. They’ve been fighting for, what—two years? It’s boring.”

Sparky lost it.

“BORING?! THIS ISN’T A REALITY SHOW, YOU ORANGE DISASTER! PEOPLE ARE DYING!”

Grump leaned back, stretching.

“Well, Ukraine’s not my problem anymore.”

Sparky gritted his teeth.

“Oh really? Guess what Putin’s next move is.”

Sparky snapped his claws.

The room around them melted away—and suddenly, they were in a war room in Moscow.

Vladimir Putin sat at the head of the table, surrounded by his generals.

A massive map of Europe was spread before them.

A Russian general pointed at the Baltic states.

“Sir, with NATO weakened and America backing down, we can take Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania within weeks.”

Another general nodded.

“Poland will hesitate to respond without U.S. leadership.”

Putin smiled coldly.

“The West is weak. We move next year.”

The scene faded.

Sparky turned to Grump.

“CONGRATULATIONS! YOU DIDN’T JUST LOSE UKRAINE—YOU SET UP WORLD WAR III!”

Grump shrugged.

“Eh, what’s the big deal? Not my problem.”

Sparky exploded.

“DO YOU EVEN RESPECT YOURSELF?”

The walls of the Oval Office transformed into mirrors.

Everywhere Grump looked, he saw himself.

Not as a powerful leader.

Not as a great man.

But as a pathetic, bloated, diaper-wearing fraud.

“LOOK AT YOURSELF,” Sparky commanded.

Grump turned away.

Sparky hissed.

“No. FACE IT.”

Grump slowly turned to the mirror.

And for the first time ever, he saw himself as he really was.

Not a billionaire.
Not a genius.
Not a king.

Just an old, weak, lonely man in a dirty diaper.

"Even Melanomia Left You"

Sparky flew in close.

“You think you still have power? You think you still have loyalty?”

Grump scowled.

“Of course I do! Melanomia came back!”

Sparky laughed bitterly.

“Oh REALLY? When’s the last time she kissed you goodnight?”

Grump froze.

Sparky tilted his head.

“When’s the last time she tucked you in?”

Grump shifted uncomfortably.

“When’s the last time she even held your hand?”

Grump’s face darkened.

Sparky swooped down, hissing.

“She came back for the grift. Not for you. No one’s here for YOU.”

Grump shook his head.

“No… that’s not true… I still have my children.”

Sparky hovered inches from his face.

“WHEN’S THE LAST TIME DONOLD JR. SAID HE LOVED YOU?”

Silence.

Sparky grinned.

“That’s what I thought.”

Sparky hovered above the desk, his body glowing brighter.

“This is it,” he said. “I’m done.”

Grump blinked.

“What?”

Sparky sighed.

“I stayed because I thought there was something left of you. Some tiny sliver of a soul.”

His wings began to glow.

“But there’s nothing left. You’re just an empty man, desperate for love but surrounded by people who only see you as a bank account.”

Sparky flapped his wings one last time.

“I hope you enjoy dying alone.”

And with that, he vanished in a ball of fire.

Grump stared at the empty room.

He was alone.

No Sparky.
No Melanomia.
No family.
No loyalty.

Just a scared old man in a diaper.

Outside, the world moved on.

Ukraine braced for war.

Putin planned his next move.

America realized it had elected a coward.

And Donold Grump sat in silence, finally realizing what he had become.

Just another old fool that history would laugh at.

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Just remember if you have someone in your life that loves you, holds you at night, makes you laugh, cry...

Then you are richer than

"He Who is PU!"