It was a dark and stormy night. One whose conditions practically elicited the visit of a very scary yet wise and well-meaning ghost. This night, however, was not typical by any means. Indeed, it was unique in that it was longer than any previous storm or night in U.S. history. The scene was bleak. White men were arguing. Government employees were on the brink of bankruptcy. And through all this carnage, Donald Trump peacefully slept, albeit with intermittent cries of “Give me my money Schumer! Pwease daddy pwease!”
Suddenly, Trump was awoken by a blinding light that resembled the inside of a tanning bed he frequented, and a delicate whisper dripped its way into the depths of his ear, “I’m the ghost of border wall past.” In an instant, Donald stood facing the concrete barrier of the Berlin Wall. The ghost of border wall past watched as he tenderly stroked it with his teeny hands. “Gross,” she said. “Forget it. I’m out of here.” Perfect, Donald thought. With her gone, it was just him and the wall...
Donald’s reverie came to a very quick end as he was transported to a dank, wood-paneled bedroom, which by the looks of it was presumably the former site of a low-budget porno. An incredibly sculpted hunk with a man-bun who identified himself as the ghost of border wall present now stood beside Donald. They both looked over the shoulder of a woman with hair so big, it would’ve inspired Stephen Miller to spray paint an extra inch on his head. She appeared to be maxing out the last of her savings on a GoFundMe page supporting Trump's border wall. Huh, he thought. This doesn't make any sense. Why can't she donate more? Where is her money? She's white and racist like me — how is she not privileged?
And that's when it hit him. What the ghosts of border wall past and present were trying to communicate to him. Many of Donald's voters had struggled to feed their families, and when someone promised to "drain the swamp" of the government that had caused much of their strife, they had little choice but to trust him. Donald saw that his incendiary rhetoric affected these people greatly — of course that caravan was filled with animals who would steal their jobs. They needed some explanation as to why they weren't succeeding in the way they should've been. This was America after all, the land of equal opportunity.
To his supporters, Trump was like a preacher of the prosperity gospel. They trusted him to bring jobs and opportunities that had been evading them for years. But Trump would have them sowing their seeds — going to rallies, spitting "fake news" at sources with high ethics codes, cashing out their savings on a border wall that would never solve their problems — forever. All they were truly buying into was his ego, and they were victims all the same.
Wow, Donald thought, feeling transformed. These ghosts must be huge fans. They came back from the dead just to show me what a great influence I am! Donald felt pretty comfortable now that he knew the border wall ghosts weren’t trying to teach him a lesson. "So, how did you die, ghosty-man?" Donald asked. "Did an illegal kill you?"
Erin Clancy is a Humor Columnist for The Cavalier Daily. She can be reached at humor@cavalierdaily.com
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