Donold J. Grump Ch 3

The scene on the lawn had reached its boiling point. Reporters circled like vultures, capturing every chaotic detail: the glowing egg structure, the mushroom-wielding workers, and Egon Tusk standing at the center of it all, as calm as a Zen monk.

Donold J. Grump, however, was anything but calm. His face was crimson, a vein pulsing dangerously at his temple as he shoved past the reporters, bellowing into the cameras.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the fake news media,” he began, his voice shaking with barely restrained fury, “what you’re witnessing today is the greatest betrayal in the history of the United States. Greater than Benedict Arnold! Greater than... than Watergate! Tremendous betrayal!”

The reporters leaned in, their cameras zooming. Egon, who had been nibbling on another mushroom, looked up with mild curiosity.

“I’ve been patient,” Grump continued, wagging a finger at Egon. “I’ve let this man—no, this traitor—stay in my house, eat my food, and ruin my lawn. But no more! Egon Tusk, you’re under arrest!”

The crowd gasped. Egon blinked, then tilted his head as if Grump had just announced a surprise birthday party.

“Arrest? For what?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.

Grump jabbed his finger toward Egon. “For drug possession! For treason! For selling military secrets to the Russians!”

The crowd erupted into frenzied murmurs.

Egon’s serene smile faltered. “Donny, that’s absurd. I don’t even like vodka. And the mushrooms aren’t drugs—they’re spiritual tools!”

“Spiritual tools, my ass!” Grump roared. “You’ve been using them to brainwash my staff! Half the Secret Service is out here chanting about Mars like a bunch of hippies! And don’t even get me started on the documents we found in your room!”

Egon frowned. “Documents?”

Grump’s grin was wolfish now. “Oh, yeah. My people searched your room this morning. Found a whole stash of papers labeled ‘TOP SECRET.’ Blueprints for missile systems, defense protocols, you name it. And guess what? They’re all in Russian!”

Egon’s eyes widened, genuine shock spreading across his face. “Donny, that’s ridiculous. I don’t even speak Russian!”

“Tell it to the feds,” Grump sneered. He turned to his Chief of Staff, who had just arrived on the scene. “Arrest this man. Now!”

The Chief of Staff hesitated. “Uh, Mr. President-elect, I’m not sure we have the authority—”

“Do it!” Grump snapped. “Or you’re fired!”

With visible reluctance, the Secret Service agents stepped forward, their hands on their weapons. Egon raised his hands, still holding the half-eaten mushroom.

“This is a mistake, Donny,” he said, his tone almost mournful. “You’re letting fear cloud your judgment. Mars needs you, man.”

“Mars needs me? Mars needs me?!” Grump’s voice hit a new octave. “Mars can kiss my presidential ass! You’re done, Egon! Done! Take him away!”

The agents led Egon toward a waiting SUV, the reporters shouting questions all the while. Egon turned to Grump one last time, his expression strangely calm. “You’ll regret this, Donny. The mushrooms never lie.”

Grump rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Tell it to the commies.”

Back inside the White House, Grump slumped into his chair in the Oval Office, feeling a rare sense of triumph. For the first time in weeks, he had outmaneuvered Egon Tusk. The Mars Ark was already being dismantled, the workers hauled off for questioning, and Egon was likely halfway to a holding cell.

“Finally,” Grump muttered, loosening his tie. “Order is restored.”

“Not so fast, Donold.”

Grump looked up to see Speaker of the House Mickey Johnston standing in the doorway, holding a leather-bound Bible in one hand and a disturbingly large crucifix in the other. Mickey’s grin was wide, his eyes gleaming with evangelical fervor.

“Oh, great,” Grump muttered. “What do you want, Mickey?”

Mickey strode into the room, the cross swinging ominously with each step. “Donold, I saw what happened out there. I saw you stand up to that godless heathen. And I realized something: God is working through you.”

Grump groaned. “Not this again.”

“Yes, this again!” Mickey declared, his voice booming. “You’ve been chosen, Donold. Chosen by the Lord to lead this great nation back to righteousness! But first, you must accept Jesus Christ as your personal savior.”

Grump rubbed his temples. “Mickey, I don’t have time for this. I just arrested a mushroom addict for treason. Can’t I have five minutes of peace?”

“There is no peace without the Lord,” Mickey intoned, holding out the Bible like an offering. “Come, Donold. Let us pray together. Let us cleanse your soul and prepare you for the path of divine leadership.”

Grump stared at him, deadpan. “Mickey, I don’t pray. I don’t cleanse. And the only path I’m interested in is the one that leads to a cheeseburger.”

Mickey was undeterred. He dropped to one knee, clutching the cross to his chest. “Lord, I beseech you! Touch this man’s heart! Show him the light!”

Grump sighed heavily. “Fine. You can pray all you want. Just keep it down, will ya?”

But Mickey was already deep into his prayer, his voice rising with passion. “Lord, deliver this man from sin! Cleanse him of his wicked ways! And guide him as he builds your kingdom on Earth!”

Grump leaned back in his chair, muttering under his breath. “I arrest one lunatic, and another one shows up."

"Unbelievable!”