After suffering a cheeseburger infarction, Donald Trump finds himself queuing toward eternity. He shuffles up to the Pearly Gates in a foul mood for not being accorded élite status. Not relishing taking a deposition from the addled gentleman, St Peter sloughs him off to Paul, his Deputy Secretary for Lost Souls, who asks Donald to name three things that qualify him to enter the realm of eternal peace, harmony, and brotherly love.
“Well, I gave Ivanka a kitten for her seventh or eleventh birthday, something like that. She said she loved the kitten but I could tell she loved me more because she stopped biting my ankles.”
Paul asked where he had gotten the kitten.
“How the hell would I know? My secretary took care of it.”
Paul made a note and asked what else he had done that demonstrated he was a good person.
“There were many times I wanted to kill some asshole liberal like Nancy Pelosi or George Soros and could have arranged it, but I never did. That should count.”
Paul said they received many such pleas. More evidence was needed.
“Okay, all the housekeepers at my hotels and resorts are happy. Boy are they happy. No complaints since I took office and had them investigated. I even let the illegals stay on. How great is that?”
“I appreciate your generosity, Donald, but what have you done to foster peace, good will, and mutual understanding?”
“Lots and lots. Take North Korea. I negotiated the Trump Pyongyang Palace Hotel, due to open next May. It will have red-carpet service, state-of-the-art function rooms, a heated swimming pool, and 1200 rooms, each bugged by the Pentagon. Maybe a golf course. Nobody who’s anybody would stay anywhere else when visiting North Korea. They call that cultural exchange. I call it foreign exchange. It’ll boost the American and Korean economies. Win-win, right?”
“Perhaps,” Paul says, initialing a form and handing it to Donald. “Don’t lose this. See that line of people in front of that tall wall? Go stand behind them.”
“That’s a ton of people and the wall doesn’t seem to have any kind of entrance. Looks like a long wait.”
“Sorry, but we’re underfunded. Anyway, you’re here for eternity, right?”
“I suppose so.”
“Heaven can wait and so can you. At least once you’re in, nobody will kick you out.”
“I got no time for that. While I’m waiting, can I go back and campaign for the midterms?”
Nodding dolefully, Paul says,”Sure. Give me back that document and take that stairway over there marked No Exit down to the bottom. They’ll take care of you.”