Warning: This work has been rated 18+ for language.
Note: This short in no way expresses my feelings or emotions regarding the Forty-fifth President. If you take this story as such, then you didn't read the warning, in which case *sigh* and *facepalm*. This work is purely satirical and created for humorous purposes.
"Yeah, yeah, I know I'm Satan," the Devil said as he drained his scotch, thick New York gangster accent standing out in the Southern bar, "but dat don't mean that I wanna take the rest of da Trump family into my arms, God, ya gotta understand that. They're a bunch of fecking weirdos, even I can't handle'em."
God, disguised as a generic farmer from Virginia, quietly said, "Keep your voice down, Lucifer, you never know who may be watching..." He trailed off, glancing around the room before turning his eyes back to the Devil. "Why did you choose a bar?"
"You said it was okay to drink in moderation, so I assumed you'd probably need a drink or ten before the night was out," the Devil huffed, shrugging his shoulders. "We're talking about da Trumps, after all, not Mother Theresa or, say, Pope Francis. Ultimate baddies here."
"What is it that you want me to do about it?" God sighed, half-tempted to order some wine. "He's not dead yet, and I don't comment on where people are going before they die--"
"I need a break from da Trumps," Satan interrupted. "Give them their own special hell, away from me, away from my normal sinners, and away from my liquor. You can't control them, they're driving us crazy down there, I've not slept since Fred joined us in '99. Gimme a break, God, please. It's too much for me, and I'm pure evil." The devil waved his hands around dramatically as he spoke, as if to emphasize every word.
Sighing, God said, "Lucifer, it doesn't work that way. I'm sorry, I really am. They're a really tough bunch to be with at times... What if we rotated them in schedules? You take them half the year, and I take them half the year?"
"Nah, I need a break, God, a permanent break. Surely there are prisons in heaven somewhere?"
The Lord shook His head, trying to think. "Can't you give them their own part of Hell?"
"And let them walk all over me? Well, why don't we just bring back Hitler, Stalin, and some of the others, give them their own parts of Hell? No, they'll all wanna piece of da action."
"What... what about their own private Hell?" He asked, an idea starting to form in his hell. "We let them run their own dimension and we send sinners there to suffer under the eternal reign of the Trumps."
A light bulb went off in Satan's head. "Yes. Yes, God, fuck, yes, that's perfect! Thank you! When do they leave?"
"Let's wait for the line to die out," God said thoughtfully. "Let them all adjust to it at once than let'em do it one by one."
"How long should that take?"
God looked at the watch on his wrist. "A hundred human years, so... three, two, one... There."
The Devil happily smiled, holding himself back from giving God a hug. "Thank you, God. We'll be sleeping peacefully tonight."
"Of course, Lucifer." Just as the Devil turned to leave, God called, "Don't forget to brush your teeth!" before returning to Heaven in a faint flash of light.