Wanna hear a scary story? We live in a country where the top one-tenth of the 1% has almost as much wealth as the bottom 90%. Making matters worse, the children of the ultra-rich are poised to inherit all of their parents’ money. We simply cannot allow this process to continue, unless those kids manage to stay in a spooky mansion for a whole night.
You know the deal, Trump Jr. Make it till dawn in the haunted house without running off or winding up dead, and you win the family jewels. Otherwise, you walk away with jack squat.
Trust me, this is the only solution. I did the math; I did the monster math. That’s why I built Count Bernardo’s House of Horrors. It’s the one reform measure guaranteed to give everyone a fair shake and make your hair stand on end. And I should know a thing or two about that—just ask my barber!
Sure, maybe this sounds like a cinch at first. But just wait until you’re shacked up with cobwebbed candelabras, eerie organ music, and a bunch of portraits whose eyes move all by themselves! There will also be tons of hidden trapdoors, symbolic of the countless pitfalls braved by the middle class every day. But they’ll be literal trapdoors too, probably leading to the cellar or something. You get the idea.
If you’re really unlucky, a gaggle of ghastly ghouls will pop out from the woodwork and bury you alive. In college debt, that is. Frightened yet?
Even if those trust fund brats aren’t rattled by all the spooks and scares, let’s see how they handle the lack of sleep! If it was me, I would just drink a little bit of nighttime cold medicine before bedtime. Knocks you right out! However, this mansion only has dusty goblets filled with a red goo that makes you see apparitions of Ronald Reagan and deny the existence of climate change.
Of course, other candidates may propose similar plans, except they’re all in cahoots with Wall Street bankers. Secretary Clinton, for example, just opened up Killary’s Clin-tomb’s Night of Frights. Sure, it’s got plenty of CGI effects, celebrity cameos, and a full raw bar, but it’s also financed completely by Goldman-Sachs. My haunted house, on the other hand, was funded by handfuls of loose change from everyday voters, just like you. It’s amazing what you can do with an old tool shed and a few strips of paper mâché.
Anyway, I better hit the road. I’ve got to catch a bus back to Montpelier. Our local joke shop is having a sale on vampire fangs. If I don’t get them by tomorrow, they’ll become possessed—by a bloated hedge fund!