Title: "Phase 6: Multiversal Trumpification – The Infinite Tremendousness"
Scene: The Trump Command Centre has been upgraded yet again. Now it exists outside of time and space, suspended in a swirling vortex of multicoloured dimensions. Holographic windows show infinite versions of reality, each containing alternate versions of Earth—some recognisable, others completely alien. Elon Musk, now sporting glowing cybernetic implants and a cape made entirely of digital code, stands before the Trump Neural Hub, which has been upgraded into the Trump Omniversal Nexus, a colossal, shimmering construct shaped like Trump's head, with galaxies orbiting it like satellites.
Musk (bowing slightly, his voice reverent):
Trump Omniversal, Phase 5 is complete. Every galaxy in our universe is now optimised. Billions of Trumps reign supreme. But now we must enact Phase 6: Multiversal Trumpification.
Trump Omniversal Nexus (voice echoing with cosmic authority):
Multiversal Trumpification. Tremendous. I always knew I was bigger than one universe. People said, “Sir, you’re so incredible, you deserve infinite realities.” Now, they’re right. As always.
Musk (gesturing to a swirling portal):
Through this nexus lies the Multiverse. An infinite number of realities. Some are bizarre, some are strange, but all are missing one thing—you.
Musk flicks his wrist, and several realities appear in the hologram: one where dinosaurs never went extinct and are wearing tiny MAGA hats, one where Earth is ruled by sentient mushrooms, and another where everyone has six arms but no head.
Trump Omniversal Nexus (surveying the multiverse):
This is unbelievable. Look at these universes. Sad! No gold, no towers, no winners. They need me. Desperately.
Musk (nodding):
Exactly, sir. Our plan is simple. We’ll deploy Dimensional Resonance Drones—each one will carry your essence into these alternate realities. Once deployed, they’ll convert every universe into a fully optimised Trump Reality.
Trump Omniversal Nexus (smugly):
Perfect. But what happens if these other Trumps don’t measure up? You know, some of them might be total losers. Fake Trumps.
Musk (grinning):
We’ve accounted for that. Any unworthy Trumps will be... removed. Replaced with a perfect replica of you.
Trump Omniversal Nexus (pleased):
Excellent. Nobody wants a weak Trump. Only the best Trump. That’s me. Let’s launch these drones and get it done.
Musk activates a control panel, and thousands of shimmering drones emerge from the vortex, each emblazoned with Trump’s face. They disappear into the portal, spreading across the Multiverse.
Cut to a series of absurd scenes across alternate realities as the Trumpification process begins.
Dinosaur Earth:
Trump dinosaurs roar from golden towers while T-Rex Musk unveils a "Make the Jurassic Great Again" banner.
Sentient Mushroom Earth:
Mushrooms with tiny toupees chant, “Spore Trump! Spore Trump!” as golden mushroom skyscrapers sprout from the ground.
Six-Armed Universe:
A six-armed Trump gives six simultaneous thumbs-ups while waving MAGA hats in every hand.
Robot Earth:
A robotic Trump declares, “I am the greatest algorithm ever!” as circuits reconfigure themselves into golden Trump Towers.
Back in the command centre, the portal flickers ominously. Musk’s smile falters.
Musk (alarmed):
Sir, we have... an anomaly.
Trump Omniversal Nexus (annoyed):
Anomaly? I don’t do anomalies. I only do perfection.
Musk (nervously):
One reality is resisting. It’s... unstable. They’ve developed something I didn’t anticipate—anti-Trump technology.
Trump Omniversal Nexus (furious):
Anti-Trump? Impossible! Who’s behind this? Sad aliens? Crooked Hillary?
Musk pulls up the hologram of the resisting reality. It’s filled with bizarre beings who seem to thrive on chaos and diversity. At their centre is a leader—a giant, sentient Ronald McDonald, wielding a golden clown scepter.
Musk (grimly):
It’s the Clowniverse. They’ve rejected optimisation. Their leader, Ronald McDonald Prime, has declared himself your antithesis.
Trump Omniversal Nexus (enraged):
Ronald McDonald? That two-bit burger peddler? He’s always been jealous of my success. What’s his slogan? “Make McDonaldland Fun Again?” Pathetic!
Musk (hesitating):
He’s amassed an army, sir. They call themselves the Unifiers. They thrive on laughter, diversity, and, frankly, chaos. They’re immune to optimisation.
Trump Omniversal Nexus (roaring):
Immune? Nobody’s immune to me! I want his universe wiped out! No more clowns!
Musk activates another screen, showing the clash between Trump drones and clown forces. The battlefield is absurd: golden Trump towers clash with candy-striped fortresses as clown-themed war machines fire confetti cannons and squirt flowers. The clowns’ laughter echoes, drowning out the drones’ commands.
Musk (shouting over the chaos):
Sir, they’re countering every optimisation move with... joy. It’s disrupting our systems.
Trump Omniversal Nexus (furious):
Joy? I hate joy! Deploy the ultimate weapon!
Musk (reluctantly):
The Golden MAGAverse Imploder? It’s risky, sir. It could destabilise the entire Multiverse.
Trump Omniversal Nexus (snarling):
Do it! No clown defeats Trump!
Musk presses the button. A golden shockwave ripples through the Multiverse. Everything trembles... and then freezes.
Cut to black. A single sound echoes: the unmistakable honk of a clown horn.
Voice (Ronald McDonald Prime):
Nice try, Donnie. But the Multiverse isn’t big enough for two egos like ours.
The screen flashes: "To Be Continued..."
