First thing you have to know about Donald Trump is that he is a time traveler from a time when men have enormous genitalia and towering intellects. That's just for starters. Ask about his mind control sometime. But the important part is that he can travel through time based on some arbitrary rules that will no doubt become important and retroactively seem logical enough.

Anyway, here is the story of Donald Trump's quest to save Hillary Clinton from her twin demons: Bill and Crooked. Some parts get a little twisty but don't worry, it's dank.

Hillary Rodham started life as a well adjusted young girl, bright and adorable. She was the smile on your grandpas face and the red in a schoolboys cheek. Life was an amazing adventure, full of laughter and fear and striving and loving and losing and wishing and hoping and yearning! This was a girl who knew no danger, knew no limit, knew no obstacle she could not overcome.

And she grew up to be a good little Goldwater girl. White America, red white and blue. A wonderful life awaited!

But she met Bill.

Bill was a cunt. The most charming guy you'll ever meet, but his biology gave him the ability to lie without feeling bad – an ability our bright eyed girl from the Midwest had no defense for. Bill looked at her and said – lying, with sincerity! - that the rumors about him were all untrue and he was a good man and he'll be true and you'll never regret it...

Bill was a cunt. He lied well enough that our girl followed him lovingly and hopefully to meet her second demon.

Crooked came so easily onto our girl that it should scare all of us. Bill's lies couldn't hold up forever, Hillary was far, far too smart for that. But the idea Bill is a demon....? No. He is a good man.

The first lie. Crooked dug its talons deep with the first lie.

Uppity sluts claiming to the media that Bill had not been a good man were threatening his campaign for governor, and our Hillary stood in righteous defense of Bill, who was a good man. Crooked whispered that they were lying...the stories aren't true...Bill Is A Good Man.

With this, Hillary died. Crooked sank her talons in deep, and a bright eyed, happy child became Crooked Hillary. Such a monumental tragedy – an innocent lost to a demon she could not hope to outmatch! - reverberated through time and space and reached the ears of one Donald J. Trump, a humble wall merchant among the time-traveling large genitalia having future culture of blonde bawdy bosses. He heard her cry.

Across time and space...Don heard his girl cry for the first time. As Crooked pulled out her heart, his keen senses and boundless compassion created a bond unique in the universe between himself and the girl that could have been. The universe would never know what was lost. Don shook his head as tears rolled down his strong jaw. He would never have his girl.

But then he remembered he was a time traveler with a massive dong so he sent himself back in time to be born as a humble real estate developer's son in New York.

Now some may take this opportunity in the narrative to flesh out details, have several minor and major plots, make you really feel for the characters involved. Some may.

We all know the story up until now. How Bill and Crooked – the lying, so much lying, why won't it stop he makes me please why does he make me lie! - tore our little girl Hillary to pieces and left her corpse to be a puppet of the echoey interests.

All of this Don watched from afar, weeping every night because of what was being done to his true love. He would never feel truly at home with anyone but Hillary – his beautiful Hillary! - and Don's list of loves lost grew every year because of it. Empress Melania knew of his deep devotion to Hillary and loved him all the more for it because of the beauty and esoteric nature of such a transdimensional commitment. Melania loved the Don that would die for Hillary – and he was man enough for both of them, she well knew. She smiled, thinking about the three of them together one day. He could love and provide for two women easily – for he was not a cuck.

On the Labor Day before the election, Don saw something that chilled him to the bone. His girl – our girl, Hillary! His girl was coughing on national television. She was coughing and hacking and having a stroke it seemed, but no, just a cough. Her voice returned, low energy at first, but it was there. That sweet, sweet voice he first heard years ago crying as it was silenced by Bill and Crooked.

It would soon be time to slay Crooked and begin saving his girl.

The first debate started like any other – standard introductions, claps, fake smiles, all the pageantry of an alleged democracy. When Don reached out to clasp Hillary's hand - his girl! no, Crooked still...- he felt the whisper of an echo of the memory of what some weaker men would call nervous for the first time in his impeccable life. Her hand felt as he hoped it would.

It felt better. It felt like home. He had a chance at his girl and he seized it.

>Why are you so full of bullshit, Hillary?

i i i i ...

>Hillary.

I am standing up for my pr...principles and fighting to make women equal to men and the poor wealthy and the unclever wise and night not to be so dark.

>Hillary, you are a liar and a clown for the masses and the willing marionette of the masters whose flagrant strings you deny.

Stop that isn't true.

>Hillary. You know it to be true. Search your feelings, my love.

No, I'll never love you, you're a monster!

>Stop lying to yourself, you know who the real monster is.

As Crooked fell dead, vanquished and invisible, Hillary saw the truth for the first time in her life – Bill was a cunt.

Don comforted Hillary that night, not forgetting that the eyes of the nation – and the world, for that matter – (editor's note – and the transdimensional planes!) were fixed on Him and his new old love. He gazed into her burning eyes – burning with tears and regret and vengeance – and asked her one thing. Never lie again.

Crooked was dead. Long live Hillary, our Goldwater girl.

Hillary looked into her savior's eyes and knew in that moment all could be set right – all the evil of Crooked – if only her man and our man became the leader of the free world. We can do it together, she gasped to her lover. We can do it together.

Don mistook this endorsement for an invitation and kissed Hillary passionately on the neck. He felt as her skin formed shy girlish goosebumps of innocent love at every kiss and lick and caress. He gestured that the cameras be dismissed and the crowd dispersed so he could have his love.

And so his love could have him. And she did.

It mostly got in her hair but we'll call her a swallower anyway if it makes her feel good about herself. Women are weird.

Remember, earlier, how I said some parts will be twisty? Buckle up.

With Crooked dead our Hero set off to slay the monster of his girl's youth – the demon Bill. Don asked his love Hillary where the lecherous father of Crooked would be found and Hillary told him the only two things she knew to be true of ol' Slick Willy. He loved saxophone music and Vladimir Nabokov.

Donald Trump was crushed. How could he find the elusive Bill with such sparse intelligence? Don't be so stupid, Donald! His father's voice rang in his ears. There are many things that are sparse, but your intelligence, my son, will never be! Don remembered his father so well – nobody had believed in him so much. And he knew the words were true. Donald Trump is a brilliant man.

Don decided to narrow his search as much as possible using the data he had – saxophone music and Vladimir Nabokov. After literally half an hour of unadulterated autism, Donald Trump discovered that a Jazz saxophonist had been booked to provide entertainment on a jet called the Lolita Express. Don smiled to himself, thinking where else would Bill be than listening to saxophone music on a private jet named in honor of his favorite author?

Wearing his customary suit and tie, all smiles, Dangerous Donald embarked on his greatest caper yet (ask about the time he saved Tokyo)! His private jet – TRUMP proudly emblazoned upon it like the banners of your countrymen – roared into the air chasing after Bill and the Lolita Express!

The Lolita Express was in a leisurely holding pattern over international waters. Lolitas don't like turbulence, Bill had said. The pilots had laughed dutifully then went back to not paying attention to anything but the front window. Watching for turbulence.

Trump Force One, using very high energy, caught up to the Lolita Express and became the only turbulence of the day. Don was arguing with the crewman who finally relented and let him keep his signature tie on as he was strapped into the escape rigging. If you can't look amazing doing something, don't do it.

The heroism hatch on the back of Trump Force One opened, and Dangerous Donald – our hero, Hillary's man! - jumped out and aimed for the top of the Lolita Express. He landed with a gentlemanly thud and nimbly attached himself to the aluminum hulk careening through the skies at a breathtaking clip. He had to work fast.

The drill made short work of the emergency hatch, and Dangerous Donald was inside. He was a predator. Keen senses, sharp mind, charm and composure – these were his allies. He heard a lick of music...saxophone? Saxophone. Bill could be near. He crept closer to the sound and quickly came to a door. Looking through...cheerleader? Why were there cheerleaders here? For all the world it looked like a Jr. High cheerleading practice, but the girls all looked a bit sadder than usual. Curious.

All that for another time though, because our Donald – Hillary's love, her hero! - heard Bill for the first time.

>Come sit on my lap and ask o'l Bill what you want for Christmas, sugar.

Don was shocked! Bill was clearly doing the good work of the Clinton Foundation, volunteering his valuable time to make Christmas bright for these at risk preteens. Maybe Bill Is A Good Man.

No! No, Crooked, you will never again arise! Bill's trick had almost worked on Don, but Don's inherent machismo saved him from the slings and arrows of the villain. With a heavy heart, Don decided that even though Bill was being a perfect gentleman and noble with those young cute cheerleaders, he still must die.

Bill must die so Crooked can no longer haunt Hillary.

With the war bellow of a troop of gorilla alphas on bath salts, Dangerous Donald charged through the thicket of young girls and seized lecherous Bill by his most honorable member. Don was not impressed by either the length or the girth and frankly his hand has never stopped smelling faintly of intern and homework. Grasping the demon Bill by the loins, Trump radioed back to Trump Force One and was whisked clear of the Lolita Express. He spared a thought to the young girls now left unattended with a jazz musician, but such things are racist.

Donald Trump pulled evil Bill onto Trump Force One through the heroism hatch, which sealed behind them. Our Don relinquished his hold over the demon's wand and asked Bill if he had any regrets for what he turned beautiful Hillary into – the pawn of Crooked, a minster of Bill's making.

>I did it for the pussy bro.

And Don wasn't even mad, because, lo, he did it for the pussy too. For he was not a cuck.

Bill was a cunt, though, so he must die. To save our girl.

Don looked at bill with love for his Hillary and asked if the devil had a last request.

>Just lemme see it. I have to know.

Our hero, great Donald, a man of his word and beyond all reproach, did drop his trow and bestow the gift of the Visage of the Don upon Bill. The length, girth, and pure aesthetics of our hero's D are only described in hushed whispers of awe in modeling agencies the world over. It was too much for one man to bear the immense responsibility of viewing. All bill could say was

>You're a big guy.

Don, taking up his pants and holstering his magnum, smiled wistfully. He straightened his tie, perfected the angle of his french cuffs, and fingered the grip of his smaller gun. He pulled it out, admired the custom wood grips hand chiseled by nuns in Abyssinia, and pointed it at the Monster.

>For you.

Two bullets through its heart and the body falling from 30,000 feet, the demon Bill was slain.

Hillary – our girl! - was safe.

Touching down on Trump Force One, Don greeted Hillary with a passionate kiss. She melted into his embrace, feeling as one. Feeling like home. The most improbable, vivid, true, interdimensional and transtemporal love affair of all time had come true. Crooked was dead. Bill was dead. Long live Hillary, our Goldwater girl.

>Don, I've taken care of everything. I've conceded the race to you, you're going to win the election!I know I'll never be the president I wanted to be, but i just wanted to make the world a better place all those years ago...before Bill. Before Crooked.

I know, love. I know. You are a good girl, I've known it forever. You hated the lies and the tricks and saw what the merchants were doing to our country...but you were their unwilling stooge, Hillary. I love you. It's all over now. And I was wondering something, Hillary.

>Y-yes, my Don?

Would you like to be my vice president? Pence won't mind, he knows he is just there to shill to the evangelicals.

>Really, Don? It would be a life's dream...and I know I do not deserve it!

You do, Hillary! You deserve the moon and the stars and the grandchildren to cover a continent! Please allow me to honor you as I may, since I may not as you deserve. I am, after all – he smiled – but a humble wall merchant.

Donald and Hillary walked the Capitol steps as the first married couple to take the office of President and Vice-President, respectively. Over six million attended the greatest inauguration the United States has ever witnessed. Ovens were busy for weeks before hand baking all of the wedding cakes needed for the big day – many couples wanted their wedding day to coincide with the auspicious occasion of the inauguration. The whole country was in a giddy mood as Don and Hillary took office. It was a painting and a movie and a song that fills your soul.

It was perfect.

And in that moment, among the six million, among the throngs and the pres and the officials and the Chief Justice, Hillary looked deep into the sapphire wisdom of her love's gaze.

>Don

Yes, Hillary?

>If I asked something of you, here, now, in this moment – would you do it?

For my love I would move time and space and slay demons. I would raise temples to your memory and slay your foes by the legion. I will do anything you ask, and be happier afterwards.

>Donald...I...i just...i know it wasn't me, but all those deaths, all the lies...the emails...Crooked did so much evil...

I know, Hillary. But she is dead.

>You slew her for me...I'll never for a second be able to forget how you braved the Lolita Express to slay my demon...I'll never forget, you have earned my love forever...but I must know that Crooked's work will be undone.

How can I grant you this wish?