No boundaries- Just Belan (Rolling Pin)

Tr#@mp jolted awake.

Or at least, he thought he did.

He was sitting in a massive conference room...bigger than anything at Mar-a-Lago. Bright. Too bright. Across the table stood a figure, glowing so intensely it was impossible to make out a face.

Tr#@mp squinted, irritated.

“Okay, what is this? What is going on here? Who are you? This is not funny. Not funny at all. I was in my bed...very secure, by the way, the best security...so how did I get here? Was I kidnapped? Iran? Sounds like Iran. Very bad people. Terrible.”

The light didn’t respond immediately.

Tr#@mp leaned forward, voice rising.

“And another thing...show your face. Nobody hides from me. Nobody. Who do you think you are?”

A calm voice echoed through the room.

“I am Mary.”

Tr#@mp blinked.

“Mary? …Mary who? Mary… mother of Jesus? That Mary? Because that would be...frankly...that would be huge.”

A pause.

“No. Your mother. Mary Anne MacLeod Tr#@mp.”

The light softened. The glow faded.

She stood there...calm, composed.

Tr#@mp's face shifted. For once, speechless.

“Mamma?”

She walked over and sat beside him.

“Mamma! I died in my sleep? This is ridiculous. I feel great. I had tremendous energy. People say I have the best energy.”

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” she asked gently. “And no, you haven’t died. I had to make… arrangements. From the top authority. This meeting is important.”

“Oh, I’m happy...very happy. Thrilled, actually. Nobody’s more thrilled than me. But arrangements? What arrangements? You and Dad...you are the top authority, right?”

Mary stared at him silently.

A long pause.

Then a sigh.

“I see I’ll have to get straight to the point.”

“Oh sure, Mamma. Go ahead. But tell me...how is it up there?”

“Peaceful. No boundaries.”

Tr#@mp nodded slowly.

“No boundaries, huh… I don’t know, Mamma. I like boundaries. Strong ones. The best boundaries. Very important.”

Mary ignored that.

“I’ve made many friends there. My closest friend is a woman named Laxmi.”

“Laxmi?” Trump frowned. “Sounds Indian. Let me guess—came to the U.S., maybe illegally, and now the whole family’s here. Happens all the time. Terrible situation.”

Mary’s expression hardened.

“She was a queen. Brave. From northern India. She lived long before me. And she’s respected—by many.”

Tr#@mp shrugged.

“Okay, fine. I mean, I would’ve preferred someone from the West. But okay, sure. So what’s in the bag, Mamma? You brought something.”

Mary tightened her grip on her bag.

“Every time we talk, Laxmi tells me there’s something I should have done differently. Something I failed at.”

Tr#@mp frowned.

“I’m not following. Not your best explanation, Mamma. But go ahead...do what you gotta do. Also...quick question...am I alive or dead? Still unclear.”

Mary stood.

She opened her bag.

Tr#@mp leaned forward.

“What is that, Mamma....!!!!!!”

SMACK.!!.

The sound echoed.

Tr#@mp froze.

Hand on his cheek, eyes wide.

“What the hell was that?!”

Before he could react—

Mary pulled out a rolling pin.

Tr#@mp shot up from his chair.

“Whoa—whoa—Mamma! What are you doing? Have you lost your mind?!”

She swung.

WHACK.

Tr#@mp yelped, scrambling onto the table.

“Mamma! This is violence! This is serious violence! People go to jail for this!”

Mary didn’t stop.

“I should have done this when you were younger!” she snapped. “Maybe you wouldn’t have turned out like this!”

Tr#@mp dodged, nearly slipping.

“This is unbelievable! Nobody treats me like this—nobody! I’m very respected!”

Mary chased him around the table.

“Not you—it’s me! I should have been stronger. Taught you humility. This world is not yours to own!”

“I’m doing this for my country!” Trump shouted, clinging to a chair.

“At what cost?” she fired back. This earth is not your property—it’s a temporary place you stay on rent. Like everyone else.”

She stopped for a moment, breath steady.

“You are in a position of responsibility. Make me proud. Not embarrassed.”

Tr#@mp, panting:

“Mamma… please… let’s talk about this. We can negotiate. I’m very good at negotiating.”

Mary lifted the rolling pin again.

“And if I have to come down again,” she said coldly, “I’ll take advice from my other friend—Jaya Bheda. I’ll bring slippers. And a hanger.”

Tr#@mp's eyes widened.

“Not the slippers. Anything but the slippers.”

---

He woke up.

Gasping.

Back in his bed.

He touched his face.

Relief washed over him.

“Just a dream… okay… not good, but just a dream.”

He walked into his luxurious bathroom, turned on the light, and looked into the mirror.

He froze.

His left cheek—

Bright red.

---

Last scene.

Tr#@mp storms into a high-level meeting.

“I’ve called you all here for a very important announcement. Big changes. Very big. We’re going to talk about peace—real peace.”

The room stared.

Not at his words.

At his face.

Tr#@mp noticed.

“What? What are you looking at?”

He turned.

The wall screens lit up—live feeds from around the world.

Presidents. Prime ministers.

Every single one of them.

Bruised cheeks.

Pink.

Blue.

Silent.

Tr#@mp swallowed.

“…Okay. So it wasn’t just me.”

- Sharon 😉

The story uses humor and exaggeration to reflect on themes of leadership, responsibility, and human values. Any depiction of physical discipline is purely symbolic and part of the satirical narrative. We do not support or encourage any form of violence, including child abuse.

The content is not intended to offend, defame, or disrespect any individual, community, or nation. Readers are encouraged to interpret this piece in the spirit of satire and creative expression.