Donold J. Grump #7

Breakfast with a Side of Loyalty

Morning sunlight streamed through the windows of Donold J. Grump’s private suite, glinting off the gaudy gold décor that seemed to mock the concept of moderation. The faint hum of distant waves brushing against the shores of Maga Logo mixed with the clinking of silverware as breakfast was wheeled in on an ornate trolley.

Grump lounged at the head of the table in his silk robe, his hair slightly askew, and his face bearing the triumphant smirk of a man who had fired someone just hours ago. His mind was still buzzing from the events of the previous evening, though his memory was hazy. One thing was clear: Sparky had been right about Charles. Disloyalty couldn’t be tolerated—not now, not ever.

“Morning, Donny,” came a familiar rumble.

Grump glanced over at the translucent dragon perched on the armrest of his chair. Sparky looked particularly smug this morning, his molten gold eyes scanning the room as if daring someone to defy him.

“Morning, Sparky,” Grump replied, his voice groggy but cheerful. “What’s the status report? Everyone loyal today?”

Sparky snorted, smoke curling from his nostrils. “We’ll see. I’ve got my eye on them.”

The Nervous Staff

The valet on breakfast duty entered cautiously, pushing the trolley with trembling hands. His aura was a pale yellow, flickering nervously. Sparky narrowed his eyes, watching as the man set down a plate of eggs, toast, and coffee in front of Grump.

“Donny, his glow’s weak,” Sparky whispered, his tail twitching. “Not a good sign.”

Grump frowned, scrutinizing the valet as he poured the coffee. “What’s wrong with you, huh? Nervous? Got something to hide?”

The valet’s hands froze mid-pour, and a few drops of coffee splattered onto the saucer. “No, sir,” he stammered. “Just... just trying to do my job, sir.”

Sparky growled softly. “He’s hiding something.”

“Yeah, I thought so,” Grump said, leaning back in his chair. “Well, watch yourself, pal. Sparky’s got eyes everywhere.”

The valet nodded quickly, retreating with the trolley as if his life depended on it.

Grump took a bite of his eggs, savoring the earthy tang of the mushrooms mixed in. “Perfect,” he muttered, his mood improving. “Mushrooms always hit the spot.”

The Paint Inquiry

Halfway through breakfast, Grump’s thoughts turned to the masterpiece he and Sparky had planned. He glanced toward the door, his irritation growing.

“Where’s the paint?” he demanded.

Sparky, perched on the edge of the table, tilted his head. “Good question. We gave the order last night. Should’ve been here by now.”

Grump slammed his fork down, startling one of the housekeepers who was tidying the curtains. “I want answers! Who’s in charge of the paint delivery?”

The housekeeper stammered, “I-I think Alice placed the order, sir.”

“Well, find her!” Grump bellowed. “I can’t paint greatness without paint!”

Sparky nodded approvingly. “That’s the spirit, Donny. Let them know who’s boss.”

The Arrival of Wiley E. Suzzi

The door opened cautiously, and Wiley E. Suzzi entered the room, her expression a mix of reluctance and determination. Dressed in a conservative pantsuit that clashed with the ostentatious decor, she carried a folder tucked under one arm.

Wiley was one of Grump’s most trusted confidants—or so she believed. A native Floridian, she had spent years running campaigns, building coalitions, and quietly getting results, but she had no experience with the ins and outs of government administration. She felt out of her depth, and the chaotic atmosphere of Maga Logo wasn’t helping.

“Wiley!” Grump exclaimed, his mood brightening. “You’re just the person I need. Come here!”

She hesitated. Grump’s sudden enthusiasm was rarely a good sign. “Good morning, Mr. President-elect,” she said cautiously, stepping forward. “I heard there was... some commotion last night.”

Grump waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing major. Just rooting out disloyalty. Sparky’s got it under control.”

Wiley blinked, confused. “Sparky?”

Grump gestured to the empty space beside him where Sparky sat, preening himself. “My advisor. He’s very sharp, you’ll love him.”

Wiley opened her mouth to respond but stopped when she caught sight of Grump’s breakfast. She recognized the mushrooms immediately. Her face tightened with concern.

“Donny,” she began slowly, “are you feeling all right?”

“Never better,” Grump said, grinning. “But enough about me. Let’s talk about you, Wiley.”

The Golden Aura

As Wiley approached the table, Sparky perked up. His eyes widened, and a bright grin spread across his face.

“Donny,” Sparky said, his voice tinged with awe, “look at her aura. It’s radiant!”

Grump squinted, and sure enough, Wiley’s aura shimmered like molten gold, glowing brighter than anyone he’d seen before.

“Wow,” Grump muttered. “You’re like the sun, Wiley. Sparky says you’re loyal—really loyal.”

Wiley stared at him, her confusion deepening. “I’m... glad to hear that?”

“You’re perfect!” Grump declared, slamming his hand on the table. “Absolutely perfect. I don’t know why you’ve been holding back.”

Wiley’s cheeks flushed. “Holding back? I’m just... trying to do my job, Donny. I’ve never run an administration before. Campaigns are one thing, but this... this feels too big for me.”

“Nonsense!” Grump said, leaning forward. “You’ve got the glow, Wiley. Sparky sees it, I see it. You’ve got what it takes.”

She shifted uncomfortably. Her Florida upbringing had taught her to avoid the spotlight, and she’d always preferred working behind the scenes. The idea of taking a larger role, of becoming a more public figure, terrified her—not just because of her lack of experience, but because of her feelings for Grump.

She glanced at him, her heart sinking. She couldn’t deny that she cared about him—maybe too much. But she couldn’t let those feelings cloud her judgment.

“Donny,” she said hesitantly, “I appreciate your confidence in me, but I don’t know if I’m the right person for this. There are people with more experience, people who—”

“Stop,” Grump interrupted, holding up a hand. “Experience is overrated. Loyalty is what matters. And you’ve got it in spades.”

“But—”

“No buts, Wiley,” Grump said firmly. “You’re the best. Sparky thinks so, I think so, and that’s all that matters.”

Wiley looked at him, her hesitation wavering. She wanted to believe him, to believe that she was capable of handling this monumental responsibility. But a small voice in the back of her mind whispered that she was in over her head.

“Okay,” she said finally, her voice soft but resolute. “I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all I need to hear,” Grump said, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “Now, let’s get to work. First order of business—where’s my paint?”

Chaos Brewing

As breakfast wrapped up, the tension in the suite began to rise. Staff members hurried in and out, nervously avoiding Grump’s gaze. The valet’s earlier departure and the paint fiasco had set the tone for the day: chaotic, unpredictable, and entirely at Grump’s whim.

Wiley stood near the door, clutching her folder, her mind racing. She wasn’t sure how she would handle this new role—or the feelings she was trying desperately to suppress. But one thing was certain: life with Donold J. Grump was never dull.

Sparky perched on Grump’s shoulder as the President-elect downed the last of his coffee. “This is going to be a great day, Wiley,” he said, grinning. “I can feel it. With you on my team and Sparky by my side, nothing can stop us.”

Wiley managed a small smile, though her stomach churned with doubt. “Let’s hope so, Donny.”

As she left the suite, Grump turned to Sparky, his confidence growing. “She’s going to be great, Sparky. Absolutely great.”

“She’s got the glow,” Sparky agreed. “Now let’s focus on the paint.”

Grump nodded. “The paint. It’s time to make history.”