It should really go without saying that you’re all doomed. But hey kids, guess what? You’re all doomed.

That being said, I gotta admit - you guys put on a great fuckin’ show. And I know I’m not supposed to say it on account of how our two peoples are created to be… what? Theologically adversarial? Yeah, that sounds right. Point is, I like you humans. You’re fun to be around. And you squish good.

Another thing you kids do that flips my burgers? You hate yourselves so much. Makes me feel like I’m on vacation. Seriously. Couple, two, three millennia ago I’m workin’ my tail off (that’s a joke kids - my kind don’t have tails), hookin’ onto whatever primate I can find. Makin’ `em feel bad for like half a day and then boom somebody finds some fermenting mangoes by the watering hole and it’s monkey Mardi Gras for the rest of the week. I spent lifetimes on the hopeless cultivation of despair. But in the end, the most miserable son of a bitch on the planet was yours truly. You ever been inside a capuchin monkey’s head? Course not, your kind don’t have the parts for that. Well, be thankful. They’re revolting degenerates, the lot of `em. And I should know: I’m deplorable.

’Alright pal,’ you’re probably thinking to yourself, ’what’s this gotta do with Melania Trump?’

A fair question. Although my name’s Musashi, an’ I’m not your pal, kid.

Believe it or not, I once had the unique privilege to tether myself to the exquisite Melania Trump. And before I go any further, get your head outta the gutter, I’m not talkin’ about dirty stuff. Tethering is very respectful, very dignified. It’s the kind of psychic parasitism you can do in front of your grandma.

Intrigued? Don’t bust a pipe over it. I’m a yokai. Think of me like a ghost that was never alive, or a demon without all the religious bullshit. You know what? Fuck that. Just think of me as a guy. I’m just a regular guy passing between dimensions, connecting himself to unsuspecting victims and feeding on their happiest memories. You know, just a regular-ass guy.

’Ah ha!’ you’re thinking to yourself. ’You said you wanted to cultivate despair way back in in that bit about the monkeys. But you also eat happy memories? If that’s what you eat, shouldn’t you want to make more happiness?’


When robbed of joy, the human mind clings to its scant happy memories. Squirreling them away in the wine cellar of the soul. Keep some jackass down in the dumps for long enough and he’ll brew you up the sweetest recollection you’ve ever tasted. But look, I’m getting’ off track here. You fuckin’ kids. You’re always distractin’ me. I love ya though. Now, no more questions. Let’s get down to business.

If you’re reading this book it tells me one of two things: either you don’t want to flush the entirety of your free time down the bottomless cesspool that is the internet, or you are some sort of legal counselor, spending your billable hours scrutinizing a work of fiction about make-believe monsters and magical scrolls. It is at this juncture that the author of this book wishes to clearly and unequivocally remind the reader that this book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, businesses, events, and incidents depicted within the book are the product of the author’s imagination. The Melania Trump depicted in this book is entirely fictitious (although the character is quite charming once you get to know her), and this fictitious version of Melania Trump should not be confused with the actual Melania Trump or anyone else living or dead who goes by that name. This is also true about this book’s fictitious version of Donald Trump. The Donald Trump in this book is a totally made up guy. Do not confuse him with the real Donald Trump, who can be found currently occupying the role of America’s commander-in-chief. Although why you humans would want to put a commander inside a chief is beyond my understanding.

So now that we got that outta the way, let’s dive in (keeping in mind that all of the actions, opinions, characterizations, and dialogue contained within this book are entirely fictitious and not intended to harm anyone. Ever.).

Next Chapter: Prologue: Final Impressions of the First Lady