Donald Trump POV:
I've gotten out of the messy ditch. Mud is staining my skin and tears stinging my eyes as I limp towards the nearest house for help. The house is small, and fairly beaten up, yet there's smoke coming out of the chimney. I hear faint noises from inside the house, and I hurry to the front door, still clutching my side.
I knock on the door, and the house goes silent. Then I hear faint, angry whispers, and quiet footsteps.
The door opens abruptly and my eyes are met with none other than Nash Grier.
His electric blue eyes send a wave of shock through my body and I collapse onto him, screaming in pain.
"Yo! Hayes! There's an ugly old man here getting his hair all over me! This is awful!! Help me!" Nash screams to his brother, moving backwards and letting me fall to the ground. My head hits the tiles with a thud, and I start to bleed an alarming amount.
I look up to see Nash's beautiful, disgusted face, and his brother jumping to the scene. He grabs Nash by the shoulders, with concern.
"Are you ok bro? Bro, did he get his hairs all over you? Dude that's absolutely sick, bro. Man, let's get you cleaned up." Hayes gives me a dirty glare, and I nearly pass out. He leaves me here to rot as he brings Nash around the corner, presumably to the bathroom to give him a bath to get my trump hairs off of him.
My body aches with pain, but also with determination. I crawl along the floor, into the house. It looks absolutely fucking horrible.
I love it.
I enter the lounge, and after screaming at the maggots in Korean until they understood and left me alone, I climbed onto the couch to rest.
Before I drifted off, I thought about my minion friend. What was his name? Nelson? Na-
Nellers.
I think about the name and instantly pass out in disgust. When I awake, I go to sleep, hating his name.... But wanting his sweet, yellow body.
