Frisky and the Trump

A Romantic Date

By the time Frisky got home, it was already 6pm. He frantically got ready for the date, and stopped for a bit to admire himself in the mirror—the tie looked absolutely gorgeous on him.

Frisky went over a list of everything he needed in his head. He made sure he had it all before going out, then went on Twitter to pass the time. The clock read 6:55, and Frisky was eager to get going.

There was a knock at the door. Frisky straightened his tie, and took a deep breath. The house was quiet, and dark, then there was another knock. The young man knew who it was, and a ruby blush began to crawl its way up his face.

Another knock, more urgent this time. "Coming," Frisky yelled. He made his way to the door, and turned the cold handle.

Donald stood, leaning against the doorframe seductively. "You'll be coming later tonight, too," he crooned, winking. Frisky's face flushed fully. He couldn't believe he was really about to go on a date with Donald Trump, the multi-billionaire. Donald gestured for Frisky to follow him, and led him to a jet-black limousine. Donald opened the door, and Frisky clamored inside.

The interior of the limo was more luxurious than Frisky had ever imagined. The seats were made of a soft, red leather, and ran all along the sides. Lights danced on the ceiling in every color of the rainbow. Tinted windows separated the inside of the limo from the outside world, and more windows separated the driver from the back. Frisky was elated.

His excitement only heightened when they reached the restaurant. The hostess recognized Donald Trump immediately, and brought the couple to a nice, secluded table in the back.

Donald ordered a bottle of champagne for them. The two looked over the menu, and soon ordered.

When the waiter left, Frisky reached across the checkered tablecloth, and grasped Donald's hand. Frisky gazed into Donald's brilliant, sapphire-blue eyes. He looked like a beautiful orange blobfish.

"So how are you feeling, baby?" Donald cooed seductively.

"Donald, I think I love you," Frisky murmured.

"I know, who couldn't love me?" Donald exclaimed triumphantly.

The soft light in the restaurant danced on Donald's gorgeous face, making Frisky's heart pound. He had never felt this way about anyone before. It was as if a breeze had swept over him and washed away all of his loneliness.

"Here is your food, sirs," the waiter said. He placed the two plates on the table. As soon as the white porcelain touched the wooden table, Donald opened his mouth, grabbed the plate, and shoved the whole dish into his mouth.

"That's so hot," Frisky whispered. A smile crept onto his face. He was in love with Donald Trump.

The waiter was long gone, and Frisky enjoyed dining and talking with Donald. They whispered sweet nothings to each other, and exchanged many romantic glances. At one point they even played footsies under the table.