Having gotten word of his children’s infighting over which one would carry the family dynasty forward, Donald Trump decided to meet with them in the White House library, which hasn’t been used since he took office.

Trump’s semi-human spawn waited for their father, who was running late from just having fired John Bolton. When Trump entered, Ivanka immediately handed him a tissue and said, “Hi daddy. You’ve still got blood in the corners of your mouth.”

Trump: Later, sweetheart. You know how I like to savor the taste when I cut someone’s throat… Listen, you guys, fighting over my dynasty is ridiculous. If I ever die, I’m planning on all of you being buried with me in the Trump Mausoleum.

Trump coughed. Junior asked enthusiastically, “Is it emphysema, dad?” as Eric and Ivanka looked on hopefully.

Trump said, “I’m fine.” Faces fell.

Ivanka: Daddy. I think you should pick me to lead your dynasty into the future.

Don Jr. snarled, “Of course he’ll pick you, Daughter Dearest, you’ve always been his favorite.”

Ivanka snapped back, “I should be. You two have children with tails.”

Trump: That’s enough. I loved all you kids equally… until Ivanka developed those legs. Hubba, hubba.

Ivanka: Oh daddy, I remember the Christmas you gave me that lifetime supply of Nair.

Eric: Well, you needed it, Brillo loins.

Ivanka: You’re just jealous because he showed me how to use it on my legs, and other parts of my body, too… Daddy, please don’t bury me with you if I’m still making clothes in China.

Trump: Okay, okay, if being buried alive is that upsetting to you, you guys don’t have to be buried with me. If I die.

Eric: What about Melania?

Trump: Melania… well, don’t say anything, but I’m putting a bidet in the mausoleum.

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