[ WP ] To counter Donald Trump , the Democratic party nominates Kanye West as their presidential nominee . This is their first debate .

Kanye West threw a silver chain into the audience of three hundred, then stood slumped over his podium.'Hey, bruv,' he said.'If I were President then I would create a new, fairer economic system, in which children from poorer backgrounds are given an equal access to education as those belonging to the super-rich portions of our society.' Donald whispered a sarcastic laugh, but was n't blind; he could see the audience cheering, chanting Kanye's name, eating it up. Candidate West continued,'And I would base this society on a massive redistribution of wealth, funded by heavy taxation of the super rich, powered by decent American values, decent, honest, unbiased media sources. Ladies an gentleman of the USA, we can make this country great again!' 
 
 The audience was squealing Kanye's name by this point, burning and urinating over Donald Trump posters, lightening themselves on fire while screaming:'Gold digger.' 
 
 For most people, this would mean utter defeat. But Donald Trump was not a person. The crowd, those still alive, waited for Candidate Trump's rebuttal. Surely nothing could beat Kanye, now. 
 
 He took a sip of water, then prepared to speak. Dozens of reports, statistics, opinion polls from America's greatest political analysts swirled around in his brain. The next words to come from his mouth would either win or lose him the election, but he knew exactly what to say.'The fundamental problem,' Donald said with furious blood red eyes,'is these bloody Mexicans everywhere. They're rapists, they're murderers, they're from the planet Venus, and they want to take all our jobs! Your job, my job, then they want to bite into our necks and suck out all our American goodness - that's how Mexican's are born, people.' 
 
 The crowd had cheered, even laughed at first. Now they were silent. He stepped down defeated, broken, and told his agent to call the limo It turned up, about twenty minutes later. Donald entered the vehicle. La Paloma was playing through the radio.'This is my favorite song,' said the driver.'It's a traditional Mexic... pure blooded American song.' 
 
 Trump looked to his Time-X.'It's seven-o-clock,' he said.'Can you get me home by eight?' 
 
'Why eight?' he driver said. 
 
'I'm keeping some Mexican children in my basement,' Trump replied.'You have to eat them in about three or four days, or they go mouldy. Well, that's what the use-by-date says on the packet.' 
 
 The driver clicked the car into fifth gear.'Did the debate go alright?' 
 
'Turn the radio up,' Trump said.'I wan na sing along.' At fifty miles per hour, the houses, orange, stepped in year-old weeds, seemed to blur into a long soup. Birds yelped under a dark blackberry sky. 
 
 ¡Válgame Dios! 
 Nadie me ha visto salir 
 Si no fuí yo. 
 Y una linda Guachinanga 
 Allá voy yo. 
 Que se vino tras de mí, 
 que sí, señor. 
 
 As he licked his dry, thirsty lips, Donald knew things were going to be alright - except for the Mexican children in his basement.
