Total Posts:5|Showing Posts:1-5
Jump to topic:

DDOlympics Short Story - The Last Trumpkin

Posts: 4,796
Add as Friend
Challenge to a Debate
Send a Message
8/25/2016 8:14:16 PM
Posted: 1 year ago
Thett3 adjusted his grip, keeping a steady finger on the trigger, waiting. Along the desolate valley, nothing but fear and desolation can be found. Corpses littered the road, being disturbed only by the occasional looter or cannibal. He could see the years that have passed have not been kind, eating away at the asphalt. Weeds litter it, just as the they litter what used to be this great nation. Although he tried to keep his focus, he couldn't help but think back to before. Before the dark time. Before the end.


It started in 2013. The year was tough, and brutal. The globalist conspirators had devised a master plan, to flood the nation with illegals. They would steal all the jobs, leaving the nation in ruin and beholden to one leader. But the people revolted. First, their plan to pass shamnesty was foiled. Then, a bold leader - a dark knight - emerged from the shadows. They called him The Donald. At first, he seemed like a friend. He talked of ending the globalists, halting immigration and deporting the illegals. Using a strange sceptre, he managed to brainwash the establishment. For the first time in ages, there looked to be hope.

But then, at the last moment, he betrayed them. The Donald became weak, behold to the influence of Steve Bannon - the Lord of Cucks. Pretending to be one of them, he gained a status among Trump and convinced him to hire him. But then, he deceived Trump. Using his sceptre against him, he made Trump support shamnesty. And with that, all hope was lost. America, as they knew it, was dead. Illegals flooded across the border in waves, stealing jobs from everyone. The Muslim refugees followed soon afterwards, blowing up monuments and instituting Sharia law. Jade Helm was carried out, annexing Texas and most of the southwest. And The Donald, drunk with power, decided to nuke Switzerland and Canada for not wishing him a happy birthday. As the retaliatory strikes were delivered and the fallout settled, the illegals and globalists launched their master plan: the white genocide. All that was left of his kind were the few who had planned ahead. The few who prepared. The few who saw through the guise of the reptilian overlords, and even The Donald himself.


Thett adjusted himself, realizing it had been 11 years since that fateful day. Everyone he had known was either dead or, even worse, cucked. All that was left was the road. He had heard rumors of a great sanctuary, where all those who had not been deceived could find peace. For years, he had traveled the road, seeing nothing but the occasional illegal. He had lost home long ago of finding this sanctuary, but he knew if he were spotted, it could be the end. So he was left to travel the road - far outside what was left of the cities. He had heard rumors of experiments - he recalled the story of the fish people he had heard on the Alex Jones show, before Jones had been cucked in the first great purge. Or, worse than that, he heard of the miscegenation chambers - the fate brought upon the bravest of the uncucked. He shuddered to think of what the globalists would do to him.

"Wait a second," he thought, zooming in on the scope. He had seen movement in the distance. Looking closer, he saw a figure of what looked in a person.

"Perhaps it is a scavenger," he thought, preparing to pull the trigger. He didn't like to kill, but he had no choice - the globalists had long ago poisoned the water supply. The only way to survive was to scavenge. Keeping his sights on target, he waited until he finished moving. And then...

"Dammit! It's jammed," he swore to himself. The globalists had long ago seized the firearm industry, moving production to China. As he worked on the gun, he saw the target moving closer. Thett still couldn't make him out very well. "Maybe a mile away, at least, he thought", getting back to work. Besides, he had the high ground. If worst comes to worst, I'll just have to do it myself," he thought, as he affixed his bayonet to the rifle. The last time he used it, he thought, was on that Mexican rapist. But what he could see in the distance was drawing closer didn't look Mexican. Zooming in further on the scope, he saw what looked to be a tattered suit, shoes yellowed from the sand, and a bald head. This person was definitely familiar, he thought, but it wouldn't matter. Everyone had been cucked long ago.

"Finally," he thought to himself as he fixed the gun jam. But as he prepared his sight, he saw his target was gone.

"That's strange," he thought. There was nowhere to vanish to - just the open road. But before he could fully ponder what had happened, everything went black...


Thett woke up to find himself in a dimly lit room. His feet were shacked to the floor, hands strapped to the sides of a chair.

"This is not good," he thought to himself. The globalists must have caught him. As he examined his surroundings, they looked strangely familiar. He saw in front of him what looked like a table and a few other chairs - although none of them in good shape. The walls looked desolate - like they used to be host to something bigger. And in front of it all, he saw a big, red chair.

"What is going on," he wondered. This didn't look like a globalist facility. And then he heard a rustling, the sound of a door opening. What he saw shocked him. It was the man he saw earlier - tattered suit and bald head. But now, he could see even more - the orange skin, the tiny hinds. He knew who this was.

"Donald! You cuck!", Thett spit out. The Donald just laughed.

"You should know better than to speak up to me," he barked out. "You are the last Trumpkin. And you have something I need. And you are going to give it to me". The Donald signaled to the back, and from the darkness, two more figures emerged. The Donald pointed at one of them, the fat one.

"Chris, I need you to teach this man a lesson."

"Yes sir, thank you sir!", he eagerly responded. And then he pulled out something from his jacket. It was a book. Upon closer look...

"No! You can't do this to me!" thett yelled as he saw the title: An American Son by Marco Rubio.

"Chris, why don't you read this book to him. Don't stop reading until he talks."

"Yes sir!", the fat one responded, and he opened to page one...


Thett was breaking. It had been, by his count, 5 days since he was captured, and each went the same. The Donald would come in, have his lackeys read him a book written by a cuck. All they while, they would demand him give The Donald "what he wants". For the first day, it was Rubio. Then, the second was Jeb Bush's Immigration Wars: Forging an American Solution. Just when he thought it could not get any worse, the next three days were spent reading Glenn Beck books. One more day of this and he wasn't sure what would happen. His only nutrients were taco bowls and Mexican Coke.

"I have to get out of here before I crack," Thett thought. But how? There was nothing to reach. His hands were barred to the chair. His legs were chained to the floor. And he still had no idea what The Donald wanted. As the door cracked open, he saw this time it was not the fat one, but the black one.

"Hello, thett, " he said, incredibly slowly. "I have come to read your book for the day".

"This would be unbearable to listen to all day", thett thought to himself.

"You book today is The Way Forward: Renewing the American Idea by Paul Ryan," Carson said, taking every syllable as slowly as could be possibly taken.

"NOOOOOOO," thett screamed. He had cracked. Not Ryan! The King of Cucks! "YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME. JUST TELL ME WHAT HE WANTS. TELL ME!" thett screamed, his voice in pain. And then The Donald walked back in.

"I want what every other Trumpkin has given me," he said. "I want your soul". With a knife in hand, the Donald advanced... and thett was never seen or heard from again.
We, homo sapiens of the planet Earth, are the people of, an online debating website owned by Juggle, and will aspire to increase the quality of debates, polls, mafia on said website, to be sufficient, meeting high standards of success and satisfaction in all areas, to consider it as "great", or superb and spectacular, again for the first time in years
Posts: 6,728
Add as Friend
Challenge to a Debate
Send a Message
8/27/2016 12:13:24 AM
Posted: 1 year ago
Stooge the Worst



"bossy r u like 85 years old and have lost ur mind"

"I've honestly never seen seventh post anything that wasn't completely idiotic in a trying-to-be-funny way."

"SeventhProfessor is actually a surprisingly good poster."
Posts: 9,704
Add as Friend
Challenge to a Debate
Send a Message
8/27/2016 1:49:58 AM
Posted: 1 year ago
"If anyone wants to engage in casual anti-Semitism, then whatever." ~Max

Vaarka swung his sword at the mod. However, since I am now incorporeal, he ends up accidentally striking the entire American landmass (It's a REALLY bastard sword), destroying both continents. Spiders are now at 50% of capacity."
Posts: 21,946
Add as Friend
Challenge to a Debate
Send a Message
8/27/2016 3:19:28 AM
Posted: 1 year ago
At 8/27/2016 12:13:24 AM, SeventhProfessor wrote:

VP of DDO from Dec 14th 2014 to Jan 1st 2015

Internet Missing Person Alert: Angsty teen with daddy issues who is a failed horse rapist and also may be a cross-dresser. If spotted, please contact your local animal control or whatever disease-control organization is close by so they may return the species back to its garbage container habitat.