Editor's Note: Inasmuch as LeRoy Ephers (see his claim to fame (and note that inasmuch as is almost never used in today's journalism)) winces at the possibility of writing another story for The Spoof, and inasmuch as he detests all the fake news stories about President Trump, he suggested the following story not as a form of self-aggrandizement, on which Trump has already cornered the market, so to speak, but to support his fellow writers in jumping on the bandwagon by writing even more stories for The Spoof, a fake news source about which he's clearly let his feelings be known, which is why he has not contributed even a single sentence to this story, as it would violate his principles and seriously cut into his beer-drinking time.
The Editor also wishes to apologize for the excessive length--as pointed out by the long blue line offered at no extra charge by the good folks at Microsoft--and circuitous path the previous sentence has chosen to follow.
Finally, The Editor wishes to apologize for the graphic nature of this story. Alma GingerRoot, the writer, got a little carried away with herself and drifted, regrettably, into editorializing. (A corrective meeting has been scheduled.)
Now for the story . . . written by Alma GingerRoot, one of the newest writers for The Spoof. (Apparently, she didn't get the memo.)
On a stop in Vietnam during his five-country trip through the less hostile countries of Asia, President Trump slipped on the tarmac and fell on several little Vietnamese children, who, at the time, were holding flowers and smiling their best Vietnamese smiles. This was a tremendous feat in itself considering (1) they'd just been beaten for having bad attitudes about the "Great White Satan," and (2) they'd just finished their history studies in which they learned that the United States, and France before that, more than squashed about 97% of all the people in their country at one time or another.
Seven of the children were snuffed out instantly by the asteroid-like impact with Trump. One was later removed from this rotund backside after several hours of surgery--known as a "small child yanked out of the ass of a fat, flatulent man-ectomy." The child would later receive years of trauma counseling, despite ongoing nightmares in which he cried out, "Oh, the gas, oh the smell, oh the endless caverns of waste, and the huge hemorrhoids bouncing off my face!"
"What the hell were they doing there anyway?" Trump demanded to know. "Don't these damn foreigners know I don't like little kids!"
It was later revealed that Trump had slipped on a dung pile left by a water buffalo. A farmer, who turned out to be 107 years old and still an active member of the Viet Cong, had spent months plotting the incident. "Big fat president go down," he said proudly in his broken English. "I can die happy man now."
Security took his words a bit too seriously. Inasmuch as he was only joking, they plugged him with approximately thirty rounds of machine gun fire. He splatted on the ground like a water buffalo dropping.
That night, during a State dinner, Trump ate the first piece of the water buffalo. "Not bad," he said. "But will someone get my damned shoes cleaned! It smells like a third-world country in here!"
Advisors pointed out to Trump that his shoes had in fact been cleaned hours earlier and that he should perhaps look elsewhere for the source of the smell.