Dear Donald Trump,
Just to let you know, when McDonalds works it's magic, and your team of 26 doctors can't duct tape you together anymore ... you're dead at this point in the story.
I'm going to go to the local pub, a pay for round after round.
Celebrating another of the devil's failures.
š
Bike Eyes Mel (she/her) š³ļøāā§ļøš³ļøāššØš¦š“ššµ
