Chapter Text
America opens the door slowly and enters the house warily. All the lights are off. A chill runs down his spine.
There in the middle of the entryway, barely illuminated by the light streaming through the door he just entered, sits a chair. It’s a big chair, a nice chair. Some would say it was one of the best chairs. It faces away from him, obviously hurriedly moved into position since the rug underneath it is being pushed up by one of its legs.
It unnerves America; he reaches for his sidearm to practice his 2nd Amendment rights on the chair, but the holster isn’t on his belt. He curses his choice to wear sweatpants and takes a step forward.
A voice, soft like little hands, comes from the chair.
“Well well well. Look who came crawling back.”
“What?”
“… wait a second, I’m speaking at America, right?”
“Yes, this is he.”
“Okay okay, very good. As I was saying, look who came crawling back.”
The chair slowly turns around, grinding into the rug, to reveal Donald Trump.
“I knew you’d come back to me, I knew it. You had four years of Biden and he didn’t treat you right, so you came back to me. Y’know, I always knew you had a thing for older men, especially since you never let Hillary or Kamala lead you around.”
“I’m 249 years old though?”
“And despite your advanced age you still came back to me.”
“This is my house. How did you get in here anyway?”
“You’d locked the door so I came in through the window.”
“But I locked all the windows?”
“Only on the first floor. My company makes beautiful ladders, the bestest ladders. Very easy to clamber up to your second floor. I also like how you tried to decorate my bedroom, although most of the junk in there needs to go.”
“You mean my room?”
“Don’t worry, America. It’s still your room, we’ll set up a little air mattress for you to sleep on and everything.”