Donold J. Grump #31

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Donnie's First Day of School Pt 2

Philadelphia, 1798 –  A Candlelit Hall in the City of Brotherly Love

The summer heat clung to the air inside the dimly lit chamber, the flickering glow of lanterns casting long shadows across the polished mahogany table. Seated around it were the men who had built a nation, their powdered wigs slightly askew from a long day of heated discussion. The ink of the Constitution was barely dry, yet here they were, already debating what it meant to be free.

At the head of the table sat John Adams, his round face flushed with frustration, his small hands gripping the edges of his chair as he prepared to defend his new Alien and Sedition Acts. Beside him, Alexander Hamilton leaned back confidently, fingers drumming against the wooden surface, clearly enjoying the moment.

Across from them, Thomas Jefferson and James Madison whispered hurriedly, their voices tense with concern. At the far end of the table, Benjamin Franklin, now in his elder years, sipped a glass of brandy, watching the proceedings with amusement, like a grandfather watching his grandchildren argue over a toy.

And standing in the doorway, arms crossed, his coat slightly dusted from the ride into town, was President JR President Biden.

President Biden, the Fifth President of the United States, a living contradiction. He had seen the future, fought for the past, and wasn’t about to let these Federalists lay the groundwork for tyranny. His boots thudded heavily on the floor as he took a step forward.

“Alright, boys,” he said, voice gruff. “Someone tell me why we’re about to pass the dumbest law I’ve ever seen.”

Adams cleared his throat. “It is not ‘dumb,’ sir. It is necessary.”

Hamilton, always the opportunist, smirked. “With all due respect, President Biden, the Alien Enemies Act will safeguard our nation. The French are infiltrating our shores, whispering rebellion in the ears of our citizens. We cannot allow potential enemies to roam freely.”

Jefferson scoffed, throwing down his quill. “Potential enemies, Alexander? The President will have the power to deport any foreigner on mere suspicion! No due process! No trial!”

Madison, always the methodical one, nodded in agreement. “It fundamentally contradicts the liberties we established in the Constitution. The government cannot be trusted to wield such power fairly.”

President Biden sighed and leaned against the door frame. “Madison, you’re probably the smartest guy in the room, and Tom, you’re not far behind—if you’d just learn to write legibly.”

Jefferson turned toward him with an exasperated sigh. “Not this again.”

“Tom,” President Biden said, shaking his head, “I’m telling you, 200 years from now, no one’s gonna be able to read a single damn word you wrote.”

Jefferson huffed and picked up his quill. “I write with passion, not perfection.”

President Biden walked over, plucked a blank sheet from the table, and slid it in front of him. “Try again.”

Franklin chuckled, setting down his brandy. “The boy’s got a point, Tom. Your first draft of the Declaration looked like you wrote it while riding a horse.”

Jefferson scowled but obediently practiced forming his letters, muttering under his breath.

President Biden turned back to Adams, his expression hardening. “John, I get that you’re scared. But you’re making a mistake. This law is gonna be a weapon in the wrong hands.”

Adams straightened. “And who, pray tell, do you consider the ‘wrong hands’?”

President Biden pointed a finger right at him. “Yours, for starters. But let’s fast forward a few hundred years.”

The men at the table exchanged glances. They were used to President Biden’s episodes, his visions of the future that none could explain but all respected.

“In the future, you’re gonna get some moron in office,” President Biden continued. “He’s gonna take this law, slap a fresh coat of ‘national security’ on it, and start throwing out anyone he doesn’t like. Let’s say, oh, I don’t know—some gang members. Let’s say he doesn’t even bother proving they’re criminals. He just declares it and ships them off.”

Jefferson frowned. “That would be an abomination of justice.”

Madison leaned forward. “And if we allow this now, we set the precedent for any future president to bend the law in their favor.”

Franklin sighed. “And we all know how much men love to bend things in their favor.”

Hamilton smirked. “I certainly do.”

Franklin shot him a knowing look. “Yes, we are all aware, Alexander.”

Adams wasn’t backing down. “But what of national security? Would you have us do nothing while enemies lurk within our borders?”

Jefferson slammed his hand on the table. “Then prove they are enemies, John! Give them trials! Present evidence! We are a nation of laws, not suspicion!”

President Biden nodded. “Damn right.”

Madison added, “An innocent man could be accused simply because he bears a resemblance to a criminal. Or worse, because he is inconvenient to those in power.”

Franklin smirked, raising his glass. “I’d wager half the people in this room would be exiled under such a system.”

President Biden chuckled. “Tom especially. You’d be on the first boat out.”

Jefferson threw up his hands. “I simply speak the truth.”

Hamilton leaned in. “Which is why you should speak it less.”

President Biden turned back to Adams, voice softer now. “John, you know I respect you. But this law? It’s a mistake.” He tapped the table for emphasis. “It won’t be used the way you think it will. It won’t protect us. It’ll be used to justify tyranny.”

Adams shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

President Biden’s voice lowered. “One day, some pathetic, cowardly man is gonna sit in the President’s chair. And he’s gonna use this law to punish the innocent. He’s gonna weaponize it against people who have no voice. And he’s gonna do it just to try to make himself look strong.”

Silence.

Madison, always the most measured, finally spoke. “Then let us ensure that when that day comes, the law is clear: No man shall be denied due process, not even in times of war.”

Jefferson nodded. “It is the only way to ensure liberty endures.”

Adams looked around the room, his face pained. He wasn’t convinced, but he could feel the weight of history pressing down on him. He sighed, rubbing his temples. “Fine. We shall ensure clear legal protections. But if war comes—”

President Biden cut him off. “Then Congress decides, not one man.”

Adams hesitated, then gave a reluctant nod. “So be it.”

Jefferson leaned back, exhausted but satisfied. “At last, some sense.”

Hamilton yawned. “This was a fun distraction, but I have papers to forge—I mean, sign.”

Franklin finished his brandy and grinned. “And I have an appointment with a lady who claims she can predict the future. Who knows, she might give President Biden here a run for his money.”

Madison sighed. “I need to draft the amendments before Adams changes his mind.”

And as the debate came to a close, President Biden leaned over Jefferson’s shoulder, watching him write.

“Not bad, Tom,” he said, nodding at the improved calligraphy. “Maybe in 200 years, someone will actually be able to read your damn notes.”

Jefferson muttered, “I despise you.”

President Biden grinned. “Love you too, buddy. Anyone know where I can find vanilla ice cream?”

ZAP!

“Alright, Donnie. Time for another history lesson.”

Grump groaned. “Do we have to?”

ZAP!

Grump yelped, clutching his chest. “What was that for?!”

“For whining,” President Biden said simply. “Now, listen up. We’re gonna talk about Miguel Hernandez.”

Grump blinked. “Who the hell is Miguel Hernandez?”

President Biden smirked. “Exactly.”

President Biden leaned against the desk, arms crossed. “Miguel Hernandez was a fifteen-year-old kid from Los Angeles. Born in the U.S. Lived in the U.S. His whole life was here. But his last name wasn’t ‘Jefferson’ or ‘Adams,’ so when some idiot like you got the bright idea to use the Alien Enemies Act without due process, Miguel got deported.”

Grump frowned. “But—wait. If he was born here, then he wasn’t an alien.”

President Biden tapped his temple. “Bingo, genius. But when a corrupt, paranoid government stops following due process, that doesn’t matter anymore. Some lazy bureaucrat just stamped his file, called him a ‘potential threat,’ and boom—he was gone.”

Grump shifted in his chair. “Well, what happened to him?”

President Biden’s face darkened. “He got sent to El Salvador. A country he’d never been to, didn’t speak the language, no family, no nothing. And guess who was waiting for him when he got off the plane?”

Grump swallowed. “…A gang?”

President Biden nodded. “MS-13. Real bad guys, Donnie. But instead of being a ‘dangerous gang member’ like your government claimed, Miguel was just a scared kid. And scared kids?” President Biden exhaled. “They don’t last long.”

Silence filled the room.

Grump shifted in his chair, suddenly feeling exposed. “So… he didn’t make it?”

President Biden shook his head. “Nope.”

Grump frowned. “That’s… bad.”

President Biden raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Donnie. It is bad.”

Grump huffed. “But… but it’s not like I did that.”

President Biden leaned forward. “No, but you set the situation in motion so others could do it, using your name and authority. And some coward like you will, if they think they can get away with it.” He jabbed a finger at Grump. “This is why due process matters.”

President Biden straightened, his voice firm. “Now let’s talk about what should have happened.”

He snapped his fingers, and the room shimmered. The Oval Office faded, replaced by a small, crowded immigration courtroom. A nervous Miguel Hernandez sat beside his public defender, while across the aisle, a federal prosecutor read from a file.

President Biden gestured at the scene. “In a just system, Miguel gets a hearing. Evidence is presented. A judge reviews the case. And instead of some lazy bureaucrat stamping ‘DEPORT’ on his file, the truth comes out.”

Grump tilted his head. “And the truth is…?”

President Biden sighed. “That Miguel wasn’t a gang member. That his teachers vouched for him. That he had no criminal record. That someone made a mistake—or worse, lied.”

The courtroom faded, and the Oval Office returned.

President Biden met Grump’s gaze. “Because of due process, Miguel Hernandez would’ve gone home that night. Back to his family. Back to his school. He could’ve grown up, gone to college, maybe even joined the military. Maybe he would’ve been a cop, a doctor, a senator—hell, maybe even president one day.”

President Biden’s voice softened. “But we’ll never know. Because some lazy, power-hungry fool—just like you—threw his life away with the stroke of a pen.”

Grump rubbed his temples. “Okay, okay. I get it. But what about actual bad guys? We can’t just let them stay.”

President Biden exhaled, tired but patient. “You charge them with a crime, Donnie. You gather evidence. You let a court decide. That’s how a democracy works.”

Grump squinted. “But what if the judge is… you know… woke?”

ZAP!

Grump jolted so hard he almost fell out of his chair.

President Biden scowled. “Justice isn’t ‘woke,’ Donnie. It’s justice.”

Grump slumped back in his chair, muttering. “Stupid due process.”

President Biden leaned in, his voice low. “Donnie, let me ask you something.”

“…What?”

President Biden’s expression turned deadly serious. “If you got thrown in jail tomorrow… wouldn’t you want due process?”

Grump’s mouth opened, then shut. His eyes darted to the side, as if searching for an escape.

President Biden nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

President Biden stood up straight, adjusting his coat. “Due process isn’t there to protect criminals, Donnie. It’s there to protect everyone. Because once the government can punish people without it? No one is safe.”

Grump looked away, suddenly very interested in the floor.

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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!"