Episode 17: The Morning After the Great Exoneration

After yesterday’s triumphant celebrations, the Trump Tower Transitionarium woke up in a state of surreal calm.

Staffers, still picking confetti out of their hair, shuffled through halls that smelled faintly of champagne and slightly burnt sparklers.

Trump, basking in the afterglow of the dropped case, was already plotting his next move—something “even huger” than yesterday’s legal miracle.

Part 1: A Breakfast of Ego Champions

In the Golden Briefing Atrium, Trump held court over a lavish spread of “Victory Pancakes” shaped like his own face. He was in rare form, recounting the previous day’s triumph to anyone within earshot.

“People said it couldn’t be done. Jack Smith folded, Biden trembled, and I—me—emerged victorious,” he proclaimed, syrup dripping from a pancake Trump-hair curl. “I’m thinking a national holiday: Exoneration Day. Hallmark will love it.”

Eric Trump nodded eagerly, scribbling down potential greeting card slogans: “Blessed by Justice,” “Flushed with Victory,” and “Witch Hunts are for Witches—Not Presidents!”

Part 2: Melania and Rudy’s Aromatic Ambitions

Meanwhile, Melania and Rudy Giuliani retreated to the Aesthetic Crisis Suite with their secret project: the Victory Mist fragrance. Boxes of prototype bottles lined the walls, their labels adorned with tiny golden eagles and a cartoon Trump winking.
“Rudy, this must be perfect,” Melania said, waving a sample strip under her nose. “Not too citrusy. Needs more… victory.”

Rudy nodded gravely. “What smells like victory? Pine? Gunpowder? A winning lawsuit?” He plucked a vial labeled ‘Exoneration Essence’—a mixture of orange zest, newly printed money, and just a hint of Diet Coke fizz.

Melania took a whiff and smiled. “Perfect. We’ll launch it tonight. It will pair nicely with Donald’s new holiday idea.”

Part 3: The Musk Must

As the staff prepared for another day of spin and spectacle, Elon Musk made a surprise visit. Arriving in a Tesla hover-limo (still in beta, based on the sparks), Musk strode into the Transitionarium clutching blueprints for “Trumpopolis 2.0,” a proposed Martian metropolis with a 300-foot golden statue of Trump saluting the cosmos.

“Mars is waiting, Mr. President-elect,” Elon said, unrolling a star-spangled map. “We just need your final approval and, well, a few trillion dollars.”

Trump studied the plans, eyes glittering. “Trillion, schmillion. We’ll make Mars pay. Or, failing that, Greenland will. Either way, I’m in. Let’s show the universe how to win.”

Part 4: Prepping the Launch

In preparation for the evening’s grand unveiling of Victory Mist, the Transitionarium staff scrambled. Kellyanne Conway arranged a “Scented Victory Salon” in the Ivory Brainstorm Pit, complete with velvet ropes and a soundtrack of triumphant trumpets.

Jared Kushner programmed a holographic display of roses morphing into sparkling gavels. Eric tried to fashion a perfume sampler into the shape of Mount Rushmore, but it ended up looking more like melted cheese.

No matter. Trump had decreed that tonight’s celebration would mark the start of a new era: “Post-Case America,” as he called it, where every setback transforms into a business opportunity, and every critic becomes a scent to be bottled and bested.

Part 5: Putin’s Lingering Shadow

As the festivities drew near, a tense hush fell over the staff whenever Russia was mentioned. The “gold flushes” comment from Putin’s message still lingered in everyone’s mind. Ivanka wondered if they should send a counter-gift—maybe a solid gold bidet engraved with “No Hard Feelings”?

Trump waved off the concern. “We’re moving forward,” he insisted, dousing himself liberally with Victory Mist. “Let Putin sniff what success smells like. Soon I’ll be president of Earth, Mars, and maybe Neptune for good measure.”

Part 6: Coming Attractions

Nightfall promised a dazzling display of excess. The Victory Mist launch party would include pyrotechnics, a holographic performance by a reanimated Elvis (courtesy of Eric’s new AI toy), and a confetti cannon loaded with tiny MAGA ribbon cutouts.
Backstage, Melania and Rudy clinked glasses. “Today, perfume. Tomorrow, who knows?” Rudy mused, swirling his drink.

Melania smiled cryptically, “In Trump World, every fragrance is just the start of something bigger—and more golden.”

Yours in scented success and cosmic ambitions,
Post-Victory Vibe Curator and Confetti Reallocation Officer