Beetledump

Trump wakes up in a cold sweat, “What’s a ship name? And who are you Yaoi Jesus?!” Yaoi Jesus had just gotten done explaining gay fanfiction to Donald Trump in his sleep. Although Trump didn’t quite seem to understand it all, maybe Yaoi Jesus needs to explain it some more later. Confusingly enough, both Trump and Yaoi Jesus had physical forms in the dream void this time, but Trump still remained unable to speak. Trump was a frightened and confused mess; gay fanfiction could be terrifying. The president was so scared he didn’t even stop to ponder how he was sweating. That was weird for him to sweat, considering the fact that he’s a reptilian dinosaur… hm.. Would he question that even if he wasn’t scared? Probably not.. Trump was still scared. Where was he? In his bed, he went to bed after his speech. Yeah, that’s correct.

Trump went off to the bathroom to get ready for the day. He sprayed another layer of spray tan on himself, man, he looked great. There was a secret to how he managed to get that pure orange impressive hue. In all truth, he had just gotten the cans confused and he’s been using spray paint instead for some time now. It was so secret that not even Trump himself knew. Maybe someday he’d check the cans and realize? As he was busy trying to wash his hands, which took a while due to the length of his arms, Donald started to think. Donald thought, Donald thought of his life. Life was easy being born rich, back before Obama went to StarClan. Everyone thought it was really cool that he managed to do that without even dying. But while Obama was off giving advice and sharing his wisdom via StarClan communication systems, Trump took his place. Then, life was still easy, as it turned out, he could just make others do his presidential work for him. Plus, he can just take credit for random things that others have done. For example, that one time he took credit for fixing the McDonald’s ice cream machines. For some reason he felt as though he had acquired a wife and kids at some point. It was almost as if he could hear them right now, just off in the other room, but he didn't remember that ever happening. His memory was very, very good, big league. So he definitely didn’t have a family that he just forgot. Yeah, he felt satisfied with his life decisions. Why was it so hard to wash your tiny t-rex arms? The orange hued political figure of the 21st century reflected on how the prior day had gone. Donald’s speech went well. In fact, he was entirely sure that he correctly identified every letter of the English alphabet. But did he actually?

Well anyways, Trump finished washing his hands. His thoughts started to shift to the green person, which seemed to be happening an increasing amount since two days prior . The green man should be arriving soon! He did say that he’d show up to take the book once Trump was done with it, didn’t he? He wondered what he’s been up to… Probably some very attractive dirt man thing, whatever they do…

Beetlejuice had a plan. He was going to seduce Donald John Trump, the dinosaur president of the United States. That way he could manipulate Trump into marrying him. Beetlejuice would finally properly be free to fully roam the mortal realm. Beetlejuice felt nothing for Donald. In all reality, Beetlejuice was not actually that big of a fan of cardboard books featuring the letters of the alphabet, he had just followed Trump there into that section so he could form an artificial meetcute. He was quite shocked when Trump entered the library, but when he saw the section he chose, he somehow wasn't that surprised. But, in order to make his plan work, he had to romance that stupid brainless lizard. Beetlejuice really would settle for anyone at this point, and Trump was filthy rich right? So he was on his way to Trump’s home- no, house?

Beetlejuice loudly burst into Trump’s house. It really was massive, it sure would be nice if this was his house too. The greenette called out into the vast space of Trump’s not-home, “Hey, I’m here for the book! President of the United States of America~”

 He wondered what Trump’s family would think of the loud flirting directed at the dinosaur, sure they didn’t mind him breaking in suddenly, that was actually considered normal, but his wife may mind him flirting with her husband. Beetlejuice decided that since he had never had shame, he has no reason to start having shame now.

Beetlejuice watched as the dino man rushed out into the living room, or at least the one that Beetlejuice was in, considering this house was massive. Trump’s golden blonde ahoge blew around as he ran, the rest of his lump hair remaining stagnant. Trump’s eyes were glistening, sparkly with pure joy. In the president’s arms lay a small cardboard book. The small cardboard book.

“I’m here for the book, Trump,” whispered Beetlejuice affectionately. Trump slowly handed the book back to Beetlejuice. He relished in the time they now shared together, although it seemed that it would be short. Beetlejuice took the book from him.

“It’s really, really advanced- The book, that is, big league. I… wouldn’t be surprised by you- I mean you’re just not on my level, no one can do anything about the fact that I'm just better than everyone,” flirted (?) Trump. Beetlejuice was astounded by how bad Trump was at flirting? Did Trump seriously just insult his intelligence? Just how dumb could he be?!

Just as Beetlejuce began to rethink if he really could handle seducing Trump, Trump began to speak again. “What I mean to say is, well,” Trump blushed, “… Do you read a lot of books?” Beetlejuice was caught off guard. Something about that… something about Trump… Beetlejuice briefly felt something. That something was probably just his immense disregard that he felt towards Trump.

“Y-yes, I do read a lot of books,” Beetlejuice replied. That was a complete lie. The duo gazed into each other’s eyes for a brief moment.

“T-thank you… Attractive Green Dirt Flavored Man,” Trump spoke shyly. Beetlejuice was confused at first. Beetlejuice found himself murmuring, “Attractive… Green Dirt… Flavored Man?” A beat passed. “Oh, that’s me,” realized Beetlejuice.

“You know, I do have a name,” said Beetlejuice, “We could… perhaps play a game of charades for you to guess?” The game of charades went on for a very long time. Beetlejuice was sick and tired of being tiny, he had to get Trump to guess his name. But Trump was just too stupid. Beetlejuice wasn’t able to say his name.

“Rat…? Rat Master,” guessed Trump.

“Where did you even get that from?” asked Beetlejuice. Plenty of other guesses were thrown around, such as ‘Rolex Watch’, ‘SoapOpera46’, ‘Reicheru Ketsuekineko-Oni’, and ‘The Man Of My Dreams’, none of which were correct, except for possibly the last one?

Even though he couldn't, Trump was so dumb that Beetlejuice just had to tell him his name, “Beetlejuice, it’s Beetlejuice.” Trump looked confused.

“My name, Beetlejuice, just say it three times,” Beetlejuice requested. It was a simple request, but this was Donald Trump. Who knew if he’d manage to figure it out.

“Beetlejuice… Beetlejuice… Beetlejuice,” Trump figured it out! That’s impressive, well, at least it is for Trump. Beetlejuice grew to his normal height. Trump stared, his mouth agape at the now much taller green man.

Beetlejuice began to walk away. “Goodbye,” he said. His back was fully turned to the blonde standing behind him. He did not wait for the other to say his farewell.

“Wait Beetlejuice!” blurted out Trump. Beetlejuice turned to look at him, both of their eyes wide. “Will… Will I ever see you again Beetlejuice?” asked Trump.

Beetlejuice stilled. A beat passed. “Let’s go on a date,” Beetlejuice said softly, “Like sometime next week.”