Cthulu and Jahweh bluntly inform Drumpf that he’s being deported back to earth. (Felix Mittermeier)

No Admittance for Drumpf

Pantheon of Deities slams door in applicant’s face.

It started with a gushing, blubbering, obsequious resignation letter from former EPA Director Scott Pruitt. It lead to Drumpf flying Air Force One to Valhalla and demanding admittance to the fabled Pantheon of Deities. And it ended with a “no” that even Drumpf couldn’t talk away.

When Pruitt’s letter was publicized, Drumpf supporters swarmed the Presidential SUV, begging to be healed of their afflictions.

When Pruitt resigned he left a letter so obsequious it deified Drumpf. At least it deified him according to the world of Drumpf. “You blessed me and the nation in a way no man has ever blessed us before,” Pruitt wrote. “The unprecedented pace at which you Made America Great Again after the heathen reduced it to a Shadow of Evil in Satan’s Eye is more impressive than any act of heroism and leadership in the Bible.”

Pruitt added that, “I felt your blessings flow into me each time you touched my hand, and your restorative power knows no bounds.” When the letter was publicized, Drumpf supporters swarmed the Presidential SUV, begging to be healed of their afflictions.

Proclaiming Drumpf’s divinity

“It was the craziest, I mean, the most amazing moment in the history of Presidential moments,” White House advisor Bruno Noze told The Haven. “With one letter, Drumpf passed from Presidential to divine. And I don’t mean the bald transvestite in John Waters films. When the requests for healing and blessings started pouring in, he paid a televangelist to teach him laying on hands.”

“Can he do that?” I asked. “Doesn’t it violate a blasphemy rule somewhere?”

“The televangelist told Drumpf most of the suckers heal themselves,” Noze said. “At least long enough to make a getaway. But he passed on a rally followed by healing ceremony. It meant he would have to touch those people, and he doesn’t touch the riff raff. I mean loyal voters.”

“The televangelist told Drumpf most of the suckers heal themselves. But he passed on a rally followed by healing ceremony. It meant he would have to touch those people, and he doesn’t touch the riff raff. I mean loyal voters.”

Instead Drumpf instructed his staff to stop trolling for Nobel nominations and nominate him for the Pantheon of Deities. Or, at least according to Noze, what he called, “that God group.” When the Gods didn’t respond, he had GOP fund raisers create a “prayer phone bank” of supporters who would pray for his admittance over the phone.

Hundreds volunteered. “Ain’t never voted for a God before. Just a loser President,” Daisy Dollard told The Haven. “George DumbAss promised to clean the towheads out of the Middle East but now they moved over here. You bet I want the guy who made America great again to make it into the Jesus Hall of Fame.”

After a week of nonstop phone prayer, the Pantheon sent an email declining Drumpf’s request. A staff member hid his phone lest he anger Them with a Tweet.

Not to be deterred, he demanded that his staff make flight plans to the Pantheon and threatened to fire the entire White House when he learned no one knew where it was. He reportedly shouted, “if I can crash the Playboy Mansion, I can crash heaven.”

He later told staff members he never crashed the Playboy mansion, it was just a figure of speech. “Hef gave me a standing invitation while I was still at Wharton. I attracted the hottest girls to his parties. A real chick magnet.”

I spent the better part of a week trying to verify whether or not Drumpf successfully crashed the Pantheon. Finally, while I was eating dinner at my favorite restaurant, which currently happens to be the Red Hen, someone slipped into the booth behind me and told me not to turn around.

“You wanted to know about Drumpf and the gods. I was with him. He made it and he wasn’t happy.”

“No success?” I prodded.

Not as successful as the Russia summit

“Cthulu wouldn’t let him through the door. He didn’t have the password. So he pounded for an hour, then he threw bricks through the windows, and finally he pissed on the outside walls. That’s when Zeus answered the door and told him, ‘You can’t nominate yourself and we know when you bribe someone to do it for you.’”

”Zeus told him, ‘You can’t nominate yourself and we know when you bribe someone to do it for you.’”

I used a pocket mirror to catch a glimpse of my source, but his collar was turned up and his hat pulled over his ears. “I looked past Zeus’ shoulders,” he told me. “I could see Yahweh sittings at the bar and drinking himself into a stupor. ‘How did I let him get elected?’ he repeated over and over.”

My source told me that John Kelly later informed Drumpf, in no uncertain terms, that the military was not equipped to challenge the gods and would “get their asses kicked minutes into the assault.” However, after a week of nonstop whining, the Joint Chiefs sprang for a demigod trophy to shut him up.

“Once we explained to him that a demigod was a god and a human too, which was better because Gods can’t be presidents, he took his trophy into the bathroom with him and happily Tweeted for hours.”

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Wry noir author Phillip T. Stephens wrote Cigerets, Guns & Beer, Raising Hell, and the Indie Book Award winning Seeing Jesus. Follow him @stephens_pt.