It was a dark and stormy night in Paris when Barack Obama and Donald Trump stumbled out of a gay bar, their eyes locked in a fierce gaze. They had been inside, drinking and arguing for hours, their political differences boiling over into a full-blown shouting match.
“You’re nothing but a con man and a liar!” Trump shouted, his face contorted with rage.
“And you’re a bigot and a fool!” Obama shot back, his eyes blazing with anger.
But now, as they stood on the rain-slicked streets of the City of Love, the argument had escalated to something far more sinister. Without a word, the two men reached into their pockets and pulled out knives, their glinting blades catching the light of the nearby streetlamp.
“Let’s settle this like men!” Trump snarled, lunging at Obama with his knife.
“Bring it on, you orange buffoon!” Obama countered, sidestepping Trump’s attack and lashing out with his own blade.
The fight was fierce and brutal, the two men lashing out at each other with all their strength. They slashed and stabbed, their knives clanging together as they fought for dominance.
The citizens of Paris watched in shock and horror as the former leaders of the United States fought to the death in the streets. It was a scene straight out of a nightmare, a vision of two men consumed by their own hatred and ego.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, one of the men stumbled and fell to the ground, a fatal wound in his chest. The other stood over him, panting and sweating, his face a mask of rage and triumph.
As the sirens of the police cars filled the air, the victor raised his knife in the air, shouting out in victory. But the sound of his voice was drowned out by the rain, and the only witnesses to the grisly scene were the shocked and terrified citizens of Paris.