Social Commentary

The Day Trump is Released from Prison: a Hopeful Satire

It’s 8:09am on May 14, 2032. Donald Trump has just been released from Federal Correctional Institute, Otisville after serving 9 years of his 14-year sentence. 

Convict Trump squints against the daylight, the gentle Spring breeze taunting his precarious hair-shelf. A crowd of photographers swarm him, illuminating his orange-grey skin with pops of unforgiving light as reporters hurl out questions.

“How does it feel to be free?” shouts one.

“I feel fabulous and I look tremendous, more than I can say for America, everyone is saying how bad it’s gotten,” responds convict Trump. “That’s just what I’ve heard.” 

“Save us!” shouts a solitary, deranged-looking, heavily-bearded man draped in a plastic red tablecloth wearing a soiled MAGA hat. “Make America great again!” he offers through a crooked, gap-toothed grin.

Convict Trump grimace-smiles at the man and then the cameras, waving at no one and anyone with one tiny hand, and turns his attention to the two people standing in front of a car beyond the throng of reporters.

He walks towards it purposely, deflecting questions and taunts from reporters and identifies two pensive, familiar faces: Supreme Court justices Neil Gorsuch and Amy Coney Barrett.

Barrett smiles awkwardly as convict Trump hands his duffle bag – unironically emblazoned with the faded logo of Mar-a-Lago, which was turned into an oceanographic research institute and educational center in 2027 – to Gorsuch. Convict Trump squints at the doughy man in the driver’s seat, who lowers the window.

“Get in, loser, we’re goin’ to Dunkin Donuts,” says Brett Kavenaugh, who laughs. Trump glowers at him and his trademark scowl tightens. Kavenaugh’s chuckle dies in his throat and he turns his attention to the swarm of photographers around the car. He smiles and blows them a kiss while the other three ideological relics enter the car. 

“No Twitter or Fox in there,” convict Trump says to no one and anyone. “Like a black hole — a huge, vast, terrible black hole, even worse than the Oval. What the hell is going on in the country? Get me current.” Barrett clears her throat.

“Well,” says Barrett, wondering where to begin. “Desantis was defeated in ‘twenty-four by the Harris-Cortez ticket, and Cortez was sworn in as president with Jared Polis as her veep in January.” Trump shakes his head. 

“Saw that one coming a mile away,” says convict Trump. “Mouthy Latin broad and a gay running the country,” he says. “Huge disaster. Truly incredible.”

“Hey Siri, drive to Dunkin’ Donuts,” says Kavenaugh. 

“What?” asks convict Trump.

“The car, sir. I was talking to the car.” The car soundlessly glides forward, and Kavenaugh’s many chins twist like a freshly-baked Challah as he turns to look back at convict Trump. He opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted.

“Yo, eyes on the road, Kav, hands at ten and two, massively precious cargo in the back,” says convict Trump, pointing a stubby finger at Kavenaugh.

“The car drives itself, Mr. President,” responds Kavenaugh.

“Horrible! China and the cybers getting all of our data, totally laughing at us, getting away with murder,” convict Trump mutters to no one and anyone, closing his eyes, which are indistiguishable from his open eyes. “And why are we in this shitbox baby-girl electric toy? You know I hate electric cars, no substitute for American horsepower.” 

Gorsuch, who has been marinating in cortisol since convict Trump sat next to him, responds.

“Petroleum-powered cars were banned in 2030, Mr. President,” he says.

“Are you shitting me? How did the energy lobby let that happen?” convict Trump’s eyes are now wide open, which still appear entirely closed. “The oil companies, Russia –”

“Russia no longer exists,” says Barrett. “It was willingly subsumed by Ukraine in 2026 after Presidents Zelenskyy and Navalny agreed to peacefully merge the countries into one sovereign nation following the joint reunion referendum which took place four months after the collapse of the Russian government when Putin died in ‘twenty-five.”

“Oh God, Vladi.” Trump slumps against the door of the car and sighs deeply. “That stings. How’d he go?” 

“Unclear, Mr. President,” says Gorsuch. “Some say super syphilis, some say a Novichok nerve agent.” 

“What about my shares in Gazprom? Did Weisselberg get my money out?” pants convict Trump.

“Well, not exactly,” responds Gorsuch. “Gazprom no longer exists.”

“Whaddya mean, no longer exists, it’s one of the biggest oil companies in the world,” declares fossil Trump. “Massive, very successful.”

“There are no oil companies left anywhere in the world, Mr. President,” says Kavenaugh. “And the liquidation of US oil companies funded the repurposing of the Keystone Pipeline project into an intercontinental irrigation system using desalinated water.”

“No more oil? HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE, how does anything work?” bellows convict Trump.

“The entire world now gets its energy from thermonuclear power, and the Global Clean Energy Union administers the planet’s supply of electricity,” says Gorsuch. 

“Did Weisselberg at least get me into the deal?” asks convict Trump.

“Er, it wasn’t a business deal, it was a public initiative,” responds Gorsuch. “All but one of the 195 countries participated in the effort.”

“Which one didn’t?” asks a bewildered convict Trump.

“The Republic of Texas,” responds Barrett. 

“I’m having heart palpitations,” says convict Trump.

“Want a psilocybin lozenge?” asks Kavenaugh brightly.

“I think he’d do better with a ketamine seltzer,” says Gorsuch. “I brought a sixer.” 

“YOU MORONS ARE ON DRUGS? How the hell are you still sitting?” shrieks convict Trump. 

All three justices remain silent. Kavenaugh and Barrett glance at one another. Gorsuch looks out the window and starts quietly humming Somewhere over the Rainbow. 

“Hello? HELLO?” Trump shifts his venomous eye-slit assault between each of them. “What, recess come early this year?” 

Kavenaugh chuckles. “Let’s just say our services were no longer required,” he says. “Hey Siri, play Justin Bieber. Bieber makes everything better, amirite?”

“Stop the car, I’m gonna throw-up,” says convict Trump. 

“The Biebs,” coos Kavenaugh. “Good ‘ole Beeee–”

“We were impeached,” says former justice Barrett flatley as Bieber and Taylor Swift hit a high note in their love-drenched duet. 

“You’re telling me all three of you lowlifes let yourself get impeached?” asks orange anger-muppet Trump. “How did the House and the Senate let this happen? They both totally blue? DOES THE REPUBLICAN PARTY STILL EXIST?”

“Very much so, Mr. President,” Barrett responds. “Democrats control the House and Republicans have the senate. Republicans supported impeachment.”

“Wwwwwwhhhyyyy?” Trump brays, stupefied. 

“Because they did what the people wanted,” says former justice Gorsuch. 

“Let’s overlook the totally obvious question, which is when has that EVER mattered. How? How did they know? Know their — opinions?” asks Trump, weakly.

“Thousands of activists and nonprofits worked together to organize over two hundred million Americans,” says former justice Barrett, “who all considered vetted facts compiled by the nonprofits, wrote letters and then demanded through an identity-authenticated vote that their representatives begin impeachment proceedings.”

“They held elections for this?” asks Trump.

“No, all of this was done on a technology platform that lets nonprofits, activists and people work together on causes and organize collective action funded by companies,” explains former justice Barrett. “Elected officials also use it to understand public sentiment and opinion.”

“WORST IDEA EVER,” snorts convict Trump. “Who runs this thing — Zuckerberg?”

“Facebook was shuttered in 2024 and Instagram died in 2025, about a year after it became just videos of chickens with arms attacking Desantis with lightsabers,” says former justice Kavenaugh.

“Not attacking me?” whimpers Trump.

“No, sir,” responds former justice Gorsuch. “You ceased to be a part of public discourse when you went to prison.”

Convict Trump sulks in silence, his sullen blinks imperceptible.

“I think I need to see a doctor,” declares Trump. “Do I still have insurance?”

“Everyone has insurance,” responds former justice Gorsuch. 

“Who pays for it?” Trump frowns.

“The government,” says Gorsuch.

“Lemme guess, proceeds from the oil companies,” smirks Trump.

“The reallocation of what was the defense budget,” says Barrett.

“It funded universal basic healthcare, universal higher education, added billions to the EPA’s budget and funded Planned Parenthood’s operations in perpetuity,” adds Gorsuch.

“What do you mean, Planned Parenthood — how is that still a thing a decade after Roe v Wade was overturned?” barks Trump, re-energized with bile. 

“Roe was reinstated on Christmas Eve, 2024,” says Barrett.

“I suppose that’s the least of our problems given we have no money to defend ourselves,” Trump utters.

“There’s no need for defenses, or offenses for that matter,” says Gorsuch. “Solving energy and water ultimately eliminated conflict, and the global population’s ability to rally together with nonprofits and corporations for causes that benefit society, well — I guess you could say it gave the world more hope and brought people together.”

“Dystopian. Truly. Not sure I want to live here any longer,” says former American Trump.

“About that,” says Kavenaugh. “You’ve been voted off the island, er, the country—“

“By this cockamamie platform,” Trump interrupts.

“— to a rig off the coast of California where Peter Thiel and Mark Zuckerberg live.” 

“I hear the seafood is fantastic,” offers former justice Kavenaugh.

“I hate seafood,” says Trump, staring out the window. A drone flies next to the speeding car. Trump raises his short middle finger to the drone’s camera eye and it flies back off into the blue sky, which contains the lowest level of carbon dioxide in recorded history. 

By adamjdevine

I'm a compass with an opinion.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *