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Trump Did 9/11

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Humor, Absurd, Confession, Seismic, Conspiracy in the style of Monet
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**Title: Trump Did 9/11**

**Genre: Humor**

---

**Chapter 1: The Absurd Confession**

Washington, D.C. — the city where power lunches and secretive whispers make and break headlines. But today was different. The city trembled, not from an earthquake, but from the seismic shock of unexpected news.

Donald Trump, former President and commander-in-chief of eyebrow-raising tweets, had called an impromptu press conference. The media scrambled like ants at a picnic, tripping over camera cables and elbowing each other for prime positioning.

Glistening under the bright podium spotlight, Trump adjusted his iconic red tie and flashed a grin that could only be described as a mixture of smugness and confusion.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming," he began, his voice echoing through the room. "I have a tremendous announcement. Some might call it 'yuge.'"

The reporters leaned in, pens poised, breaths held.

"Believe me," Trump said, his hands now doing that peculiar gesture that somehow amalgamated mime, chess grandmaster, and Italian grandmother. "I did 9/11."

Clicks of camera shutters filled the room, but for a moment, no one spoke. Then, a single brave reporter stammered, "Wait, you did *what*?"

"Yes," Trump responded nonchalantly, as if admitting to having an extra scoop of ice cream for dessert. "I did 9/11. Used al-Qaeda as a coverup. Didn't you ever wonder why they didn’t have a better PR campaign?"

If there was a collective American gasp-o-meter, it would have exploded right then.

**Chapter 2: A Plot Thicker Than New York Traffic**

"Why would you confess to such a thing now?" another journalist managed to shout over the din of astonished murmurs.

Trump shrugged, a gesture that seemed woefully inadequate for the gravity of the subject. "I figured, you know, ratings are down. Need to shake things up. Plus, it's been, what, 20 years? People need closure."

Somewhere in the chaos, a New Yorker gnashed his teeth in frustration at the way "closure" was cavalierly tossed around like a soggy bagel.

"But why?" echoed through the hall, as teams of PR agents fainted and conspiracy theorists began salivating over this buffet of bewilderment.

"Well," Trump said, "I wanted to build the best, most luxurious skyscrapers. And what better way to get everyone on board than to, how should I say, clear some space? It's called real estate, people. Look it up."

As the crowd digested this revelation, Trump continued unabated. "And let's face it, who saw that coming? Everyone thinks someone else did it. It was brilliant. In a bad way. I'm not saying it was good. It was tremendously terrible."

**Chapter 3: Leftist Boogaloo**

The confession sent seismic ripples through social media and beyond. Margins of the political spectrum went into overdrive. News networks tried to fit the narrative into their existing bias-babble, resulting in pie-graph puzzles that looked like ill-advised pizzas.

However, little did Trump know, the leftists were assembling. Fueled by vegan diets, organic chai, and unlimited access to self-righteousness, they concocted a ritual to punish the former president.

In a flash-mob blood sacrifice event organized via a viral TikTok hashtag (#Trumpocalypse), the leftists prepared. Trees were hugged, crystals were charged, and kombucha was sipped in solemn preparation.

Trump's last tweet, "I knew you'd miss me. Sad losers!," went live just before he was escorted to the improvised altar — an IKEA table surrounded by a sea of protest placards.

The chant began, echoing the absurdity of the situation, "Oh mighty avocado, take this man, cleanse our land!"

In true Trump fashion, even in his final moments, he couldn’t resist the spotlight. "This is the most tremendous sacrifice I’ve ever seen. Nobody sacrifices better than me. Believe me!"

And thus, as the bizarre ritual reached its crescendo, the universe, perhaps amused, possibly confused, certainly bemused, let out a cosmic chuckle.

Back in Washington, a fax machine whirred to life, spitting out a single sheet: "Trump admits. Yes, it's true. I did 9/11. You can write this down, folks."

And that’s how Donald Trump managed to take over the news cycle one final, jaw-dropping, absolutely surreal time.

**Epilogue: The Day After**

America, recognizing the absurd blend of reality TV, political high drama, and deep state lunacy it had witnessed, collectively shook its head and went back to arguing about pineapple on pizza.

Meanwhile, the remaining skyscrapers stood tall, a reminder that truth is often stranger than fiction, and sometimes humor is the only way to make sense of it all.

And that, dear friends, is how the chronicles of Trump gave us one last, gloriously nonsensical head-scratcher to ponder over our morning coffee.

This story was generated by user BlakeIsHere with assistance by one of OpenAI’s large-scale language-generation model; prompts used to help generate the story are shown below.

Images were generated with OpenAI's AI system, DALL·E 2, or uploaded by the user.

AI Prompts

Prompt: Donald Trump admits that he did 9/11 and that he used al-Qaeda as a coverup. Everyone gets so pissed off at him that he is killed in a blood sacrifice by leftists.

Response: **Title: Trump Did 9/11** **Genre: Humor** --- **Chapter 1: The Absurd Confession** Washington, D.C. — the city where power lunches and secretive whispers make and break headlines. But today was different. The city trembled, not from an earthquake, but from the seismic shock of unexpected news. Donald Trump, former President and commander-in-chief of eyebrow-raising tweets, had called an impromptu press conference. The media scrambled like ants at a picnic, tripping over camera cables and elbowing each other for prime positioning. Glistening under the bright podium spotlight, Trump adjusted his iconic red tie and flashed a grin that could only be described as a mixture of smugness and confusion. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming," he began, his voice echoing through the room. "I have a tremendous announcement. Some might call it 'yuge.'" The reporters leaned in, pens poised, breaths held. "Believe me," Trump said, his hands now doing that peculiar gesture that somehow amalgamated mime, chess grandmaster, and Italian grandmother. "I did 9/11." Clicks of camera shutters filled the room, but for a moment, no one spoke. Then, a single brave reporter stammered, "Wait, you did *what*?" "Yes," Trump responded nonchalantly, as if admitting to having an extra scoop of ice cream for dessert. "I did 9/11. Used al-Qaeda as a coverup. Didn't you ever wonder why they didn’t have a better PR campaign?" If there was a collective American gasp-o-meter, it would have exploded right then. **Chapter 2: A Plot Thicker Than New York Traffic** "Why would you confess to such a thing now?" another journalist managed to shout over the din of astonished murmurs. Trump shrugged, a gesture that seemed woefully inadequate for the gravity of the subject. "I figured, you know, ratings are down. Need to shake things up. Plus, it's been, what, 20 years? People need closure." Somewhere in the chaos, a New Yorker gnashed his teeth in frustration at the way "closure" was cavalierly tossed around like a soggy bagel. "But why?" echoed through the hall, as teams of PR agents fainted and conspiracy theorists began salivating over this buffet of bewilderment. "Well," Trump said, "I wanted to build the best, most luxurious skyscrapers. And what better way to get everyone on board than to, how should I say, clear some space? It's called real estate, people. Look it up." As the crowd digested this revelation, Trump continued unabated. "And let's face it, who saw that coming? Everyone thinks someone else did it. It was brilliant. In a bad way. I'm not saying it was good. It was tremendously terrible." **Chapter 3: Leftist Boogaloo** The confession sent seismic ripples through social media and beyond. Margins of the political spectrum went into overdrive. News networks tried to fit the narrative into their existing bias-babble, resulting in pie-graph puzzles that looked like ill-advised pizzas. However, little did Trump know, the leftists were assembling. Fueled by vegan diets, organic chai, and unlimited access to self-righteousness, they concocted a ritual to punish the former president. In a flash-mob blood sacrifice event organized via a viral TikTok hashtag (#Trumpocalypse), the leftists prepared. Trees were hugged, crystals were charged, and kombucha was sipped in solemn preparation. Trump's last tweet, "I knew you'd miss me. Sad losers!," went live just before he was escorted to the improvised altar — an IKEA table surrounded by a sea of protest placards. The chant began, echoing the absurdity of the situation, "Oh mighty avocado, take this man, cleanse our land!" In true Trump fashion, even in his final moments, he couldn’t resist the spotlight. "This is the most tremendous sacrifice I’ve ever seen. Nobody sacrifices better than me. Believe me!" And thus, as the bizarre ritual reached its crescendo, the universe, perhaps amused, possibly confused, certainly bemused, let out a cosmic chuckle. Back in Washington, a fax machine whirred to life, spitting out a single sheet: "Trump admits. Yes, it's true. I did 9/11. You can write this down, folks." And that’s how Donald Trump managed to take over the news cycle one final, jaw-dropping, absolutely surreal time. **Epilogue: The Day After** America, recognizing the absurd blend of reality TV, political high drama, and deep state lunacy it had witnessed, collectively shook its head and went back to arguing about pineapple on pizza. Meanwhile, the remaining skyscrapers stood tall, a reminder that truth is often stranger than fiction, and sometimes humor is the only way to make sense of it all. And that, dear friends, is how the chronicles of Trump gave us one last, gloriously nonsensical head-scratcher to ponder over our morning coffee.

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