He doesn't believe in charity. It's just a disguise for a hand out. Donald Trump has just returned home from another rally where near mass hysteria crowds carried him on their shoulders.
It had been a good night, a good night. He trundled his well-fed rotund frame to his four-poster bed enshrined in 1800 thread-count Trump Tower sheets and affixed his CPAP mask. He's about to settle in for the sleep that his personal physician has ordered, when his model-wife reminds him of the youth saving benefits of all make-up removal. Sighing, he rolls out of his triple mattress throne and flips the gold-plated spigots of his master bathroom. He washes off his Orange-Glo #46 spray tan from his face and returns for that well-earned rest from rising up America to see what it could be.
But not before he remembers about the left over Beef Wellington on the dining tray. It may be a few hours old, so what. What harm could it cause. He is titanium, the more outrageous his acts, the more powerful he grows. He downs the quarter pound of beef.
And then, Donald Trump rests.
The night is a fitful one, and sleep doesn't come. He tosses, turns, orders room service for chilled pillows, and still, sleep is unreachable.
But when at last his eyes flutter closed, the night brings company. Three ghosts in the dark hours, Christmas Past, Christmas Present, and Christmas Future.
Christmas Past is at first shooed away by Donald. With waving arms and bellowing to the excessive degree where Melania has to call and be escorted to her own private quarters. "America can be great again!" Donald curses, but Christmas Past shows him, America wasn't great for all. As the ghost flies Donald through the chilly night air, they both witness struggle, hardship, hunger, despair. America has not been 'great again' as Donald believes. "It was great!" Donald continues to insist, but Christmas Past tries with reality to convince Trump it wasn't great, no--it wasn't that way for everyone. "For you, Donald, the billionaire, yes, it was, but America needs to be good for everyone. Not just great for some, but good for all." Christmas Past realizes this job is bigger than he can handle, and he calls upon Christmas Present. He leaves Donald with this, "You can't make America great if it wasn't good for everybody." Trump resists, "How can you say that, I got everything I wanted!”
Christmas Present appears, and Donald anticipates his arrival, enthused from the last locking of horns with Christmas Past that he can't wait to unleash his truths. "They love me! And the ones who don't love me, they'll love me. I'm a good guy. I fight bad guys. You'll love me, you ghosts!" Christmas Present shows Trump his supporters, his army of his worshippers. Trump says this is the best dream ever and he is Ok with it all, which makes me sad right now as I tell this tale.
Christmas Present is too emotionally exhausted from what the present is, that he returns Trump to his bed, unable to roam further. "I can't bear to see anymore," Christmas Present confesses, "this is the most frightening night duty I've ever - barely - survived." Donald beams, "I told you. I'm a winner. I win everything."
Donald sits and awaits Christmas Future. "Two down, one to go. Winning never grows old. Never." Donald feels a chill and turns to see Christmas Future standing behind him. "Let's go! I've never felt more alive!" and Donald grabs Christmas Future's robes. They leap from his 39th floor penthouse garden and Donald Trump sees crime rampant below, a gun in every hand, people angry and hungry, demanding action. People divided in care against those who care not and those who had anything to give have run out. His ghost hands him the newspaper from 2016, "Trump Destroys America."
"What is this bullshit you're showing me!" Trump demands. "This is not my America. Mine is great! I've abolished the losers. These are all losers! They should be gone. Sent to prison and back where they came from and those that can't take care of themselves should be left without to die. What is this lie?!!?"
"This is Want. This is Ignorance. Both are two products of society that will destroy it if not combatted against by those who can prevent both social ills."
"What are you saying, Ghost?"
"That people will find food, no matter the means. That people will fight for equality, no matter the cost. That the majority of people have hearts, and will do what needs to be done to feed, clothe, care for one another. Want is a need that cannot be ignored. Ignorance is a fuel that lights the fire."
"This is bad. Not good. This is bad."
Not good. Bad. Not good. Bad. Donald Trump begged of the ghost, "What must I do? This pain, to see that people will say that I destroyed America."
"Charity and kindness are the works that will live eternal. This is where our treasures are made. We invest in humanity, with the most basic of acts: not in being the winners, the best, the greatest, but in being the most generous, the most open and kind, the most benevolent and compassionate -- this is the immortal richness of our acts."
Donald Trump woke to his own mumblings, his heart pounding with what his ego was too quick to show him. Something he couldn't fantasize away. He saw the way he will be remembered, the way he'll be talked about and written about. The way America will say what Donald Trump was for us.
Not good. Bad. Not good. Bad.
Hell no, he promised himself. There is no way I'm going down in history like this. I will be immortalized, I will be seen as constructing, not destroying.
I will make America great.
He looked out into the private hallway and shouted for his press secretary.
"Make a press announcement!"
"What group are we going after this week, Sir?"
"No. No more. Say, "Trump Changes Direction. Wants to save America."
* * *