Donald POV: The kind, black eyed minion pulled me to my mangled, bloody feet. "Let's go." He mutters, jumping on a hover board and dragging me behind him with a rope. I was taken aback, but had no time to object before my face was being scraped against the floor and my body was hitting corners of walls and minions. I was traumatized.
We finally arrive to a minion-sized, locked door. The minion kicks the door off the hinges, to a middle-aged minion reading the newspaper. He screams in fear as the younger minion impales him with a spear.
After the body is dragged out and put in the woods, and the door is replaced, the living minion brings me into the room.
"So.. I've never asked.. What's your name?" I question.
The minion jerks his head up in surprise. "Oh.... Oh yes! My name is Nellers."
I just stare in disgust. I take a hundred dollar bill out of my pocket to wipe the disgust sweat off my peeling forehead.
I Shake My Head in utter disgust once again, and wallow in disgust. I am disgusted. Nellers. This has to be a joke. A prank. A social experiment. I'm a good man. I don't deserve this shit.
By this time, I'm nauseous and on the verge of kicking this minion in the root canal.
"I have to sit down." I breathily whisper.
The minion looks at me in concern. "What's wrong, Donald?"
"This has to be a joke... Your name is not actually Nellers, is it?" I ask, hopeful for the minion to laugh and admit his foul attempt at a joke.
The minion replies after a short pause. "Yes. It is. I think it's a nice name, mind you."
With an alarming lack of hesitation, I begin to kick Nellers' ass. Before I know it, I've blacked out and I'm, for the second time today, surrounded in a pool of blood.
When I wake up, I'm surrounded... Not by a pool or blood or minions... But Gertrudes...
They've multiplied.
