#DinnerWithTrump

Stupid Dinner With Trump

It all started when I got a golden envelope in the mail that said:

“You’re Invited to Dinner with Donald Trump. Dress Code: Confused.”

I thought it was a prank. My cat ate half the invitation before I could even process it, but curiosity (and mild brain damage) got the best of me. I showed up at the address—an absurdly gold-plated McDonald's in the middle of a cornfield.

Trump greeted me wearing a bib that said “Winner Winner Chicken Dinner.”

“We’re having Big Macs and Diet Coke. Classy stuff,” he said, pointing to a tower of burgers arranged like a wedding cake.

Halfway through the meal, he started arguing with a ketchup packet.