Trump in Hell
Donald Trump died, as he might have wished, on the golf course after a massive heart attack. He found himself standing, stark naked, in a dim murky place. A tall dark figure with burning red eyes and carrying a clipboard approached
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“Welcome to Hell, ex-president Trump” it said, “I am Malodor, your guide to the infernal regions.”
The naked fat man tried to say “I don’t deserve to be here – I’ve done nothing wrong”, but he couldn’t get the words out.
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“Ah” said Malodor, “It’s impossible to lie in Hell – only the truth is possible here. I appreciate that will come as a shock to you, but in time – like all eternity – you’ll get used to it.”
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Trump only spluttered in confusion.
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“Now” said the demon, “the problem is that our technicians still haven’t worked out which level of the Inferno to put you in – there are so many options. So in the meantime I’ve been told to give you a brief guided tour of the levels so you can see what the options are. Not that you’ll get a choice, you understand.”
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Trump tried to say “My God!” but again nothing came out.
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“That’s another rule here” said Malodor, grinning to show his pointed blood-stained teeth, “you can’t mention the Other Place or the One who rules it. There are acceptable circumlocutions, such as ‘This is willed where what is willed must be’. You’ll get the hang of it. Let’s go.”
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In an instant Trump found himself on a barren plain, where a ceaseless hurricane force wind was blowing. In the air thousands of naked bodies were being tossed about like autumn leaves, flung everywhere by the force of the gale.
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“This is the Second Circle” explained Malodor, “where the lustful are eternally blown about by the winds of their desire. You could well be sentenced to this place – in life you were continually a slave to lust. Sexual harassment, both physical and verbal, even rape – it’s all here.” He pointed to the clipboard he carried, while Trump looked in horror at the flying bodies.
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“What happened to the First Circle?” he asked.
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“That’s for unbaptised infants and virtuous pagans – you don’t qualify. Let’s move on.”
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Next they stood on the edge of a noisome swamp, where naked souls wallowed in stinking ooze while an icy rain fell on them.
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“Third Circle – gluttony” said the demon, “You’re well qualified, but it’s not the worst of your sins. On we go.”
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At the next level they stood on a rocky plain where groups of naked souls weighed down by enormous money bags fought each other eternally.
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“What’s this?” asked Trump nervously.
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“Fourth Circle – greed. You’re very well qualified for this, if only it were your worst sin. Time to move on.”
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At the next level they stood on the bank of a stinking river where naked souls fought each other desperately with teeth and nails.
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“This is the River Styx” said Malodor, “and the Fifth Circle – wrath.”
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“What’s wrath?”
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“Anger to you. Here are the souls who gave way to unrestrained anger – like you against North Korea, or when you decided to tear down all the accomplishments of your predecessor. But that’s the end of the fairly mild sins and their lenient punishments. Now we go on to the really serious stuff.”
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In an instant they were standing in front of a giant wall of glowing iron. The top of the wall was lined with hideous demons carrying pitchforks, who looked at Trump like a hungry man looks at a pizza.
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“This is Dis, the infernal city. Within these walls are the circles of punishment for the really deadly sins. Let’s go in.”
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A door opened in the wall and they passed through, Trump cringing as the heat from the walls blistered his skin. Inside the wall was a vast area filled with tombs, from which flames licked out. Inside each tomb a soul was imprisoned, and they all cried out constantly in torment.
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“Sixth Circle – heretics” said the demon, “You’d be right at home here. You professed to be a Christian, while ignoring all the teachings of Christ. This is a strong possibility. But there’s more.”
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The next level was divided into three sections, and Malodor explained that in the Seventh Circle the violent were placed. “This includes murderers and warmongers, suicides, and those who fight against art and nature. Two out of three isn’t bad – you were certainly a warmonger and took great pains to fight any attempt to protect nature and the environment.”
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Trump tried to protest that it was all fake news, but the words would not come out.
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“On to Circle Eight – Fraud” announced Malodor, and they were standing on the edge of a giant amphitheatre divided into ten concentric rings. He explained that in each different kinds of fraudsters were being punished, and that Trump would fit quite well into most of them.
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“Except for simony, I suppose – selling holy offices for profit. That’s kind of gone out of fashion these days.”
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Trump quaked at the sight of the torments being inflicted below him. “Let’s get out of here!” he cried.
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“Very well – on to the Ninth Circle” said the demon.
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They were standing on the surface of a frozen lake. Entombed in the ice were hundreds of bodies, still alive.
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“Who are these?” asked Trump, his teeth chattering.
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“Traitors” said the demon, “To their lords, to their guests, and to their country. You would fit in well with the latter, after your deal with Putin to steal the election.”
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In the middle of the frozen lake was a giant figure with three heads, its bottom half encased in the ice.
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“Satan” explained Malodor, as the six eyes glared ferociously at them. Then his mobile phone rang (of course they have mobile phones in Hell). He listened for a moment and then sighed as he put it away again.
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“There seems to be a problem” he said, “As you’re not a Christian by any stretch of the imagination, you don’t qualify for the Christian Hell. You’ll have to go somewhere else.
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“What are the options?” asked the fat fraud, his feet going numb on the ice.
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“Well there’s the Islamic hell – they’re very keen to have you.”
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“No thanks”
“I think the best alternative is the Buddhists – they’ll take anybody,”
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“Fine – it can’t be worse than this.”
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“OK. Thank you for visiting Hell – we hope you have found the experience – educational.”
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In another instant Trump found himself in a vast vaulted chamber filled with enormous golden statues of the Buddha – standing, sitting, reclining. He was still naked and frozen to the marrow, but as he looked round he spotted a small figure approaching. It was a short oriental woman in a black robe.
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“Greetings” she said, “Welcome to the Buddhist afterlife.”
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She explained about the cycle of rebirth, and that souls had to be continually reborn into different forms until by living good lives they reached the ultimate goal of Nirvana – absorption into the One.
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“Sounds good to me” said Trump, and immediately found himself in the body of a cockroach, scuttling round the kitchen of the White House. He resolved to be a good cockroach, but unfortunately very soon he was trodden on by a sous-chef and had to go round again.
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(The painting is 'Eating the World', done in oils on canvas)