PSYCHOPATH Melania Trump Has Not Killed Donald Trump YET
When I was in high school, at age 17, I bought the book Courage: A Little Book of Brave Thoughts at the Washington Cathedral in Washington D.C. while on a singing tour with the Miami Palmetto Sr. High School Concert Chorus (Richard Bullman, my teacher) and read it over and over for inspiration as a young lady. It sums up my King David approach to life from that day till now.
I am still being harassed on my walks with agents that Melania pays. She lies to them and tells them I’m a crazy lady and that Gabrielle Chana FOX News (00 on cable) does not exist and offers them big money to harass me on my walks. It is not a coincidence that every day when I go out for my walks, cars and people are timed with precision timing to intersect with me, and this happens about 50 times each day! I DON’T LIVE IN NEW YORK CITY, but in a residential section of a small city. I’d have to be in dreamland or extremely stupid not to realize that this uptick in obsessive behavior by those around me, is not caused by a jealous mad woman named Melania Trump.
Here is another letter that I wrote to Melania that I enclosed in the letter of my pubes that I mailed to Melania. I did this to save Donald Trump and it looks like it worked! Cuz when I watched him on the news, it seems like the real Donald to me. I have not heard from my men since I mailed the pubes to Melania. She wanted them because she had the crazy idea that if she wore a pubepee (of my pubes) over her female genitalia that it would make her sexiest woman alive. She consults some crazy mirror that tells her I’m the sexiest woman alive and she thinks it cannot be true, because SHE MUST BE THE SEXIEST WOMAN ALIVE. Apparently, the mirror takes inner beauty into consideration and since Melania is a viper in her heart, she will never be sexiest woman alive. Any ways, here is a letter that was with the letter filled with pubes that I mailed to Melania.
Now watch the following videos and GIVE YOURSELF AN EDUCATION and quit being a stupid person who believes all you hear in Loree McBride’s FAKE NEWS. Melania is not who she appears to be on FAKE NEWS. Melania Trump murdered Soleimani, who was on my marriage list. Check out the two photos below and ask yourself, who looks like the REAL terrorist?
TERRORIST WAR CRIMINAL U.S. PRES. MELANIA TRUMP
(January 13, 2020)
Since receiving that horrible VHS tape sent to us by Donald Trump, the men and I have been vigorously investigating the situation with Melania at the White House. Our main problem was that finding a way in to the White House undetected was nearly impossible. We knew all staff and security was working for Melania, and our dear Donald was as good as Cummed and Cheeto’d if we blew our cover in any way.
Matthew sighed. “I’m just so worried about Gail. Melania is a very vain and jealous woman. If she left the leader of the free world sobbing in a puddle of cum and Cheetos, what would she do to our Gail?”
“I still think using a mole is our best bet,” Hugh said, pounding his fist into his palm.
“But we know Melania uses emotional read scanners at the door,” I reminded him, “if those scanners detect vastness, she’ll immediately know it was one of our men.”
“We don’t have ANYONE that would qualify as a spy from Church of Gail?” Hugh persisted, “someone who doesn’t meet the standards to be on Gail’s Marriage List, and who looks like they’d belong in government?”
I scratched my chin, thinking about this more carefully. Just then, one of our utility retards entered the room with a mop and bucket, and began cleaning the corner of the room. I watched as he took a break to pick his nose, and in the process knocked his glasses off his face and into the mop bucket. The retard bent to go fish his glasses out of the dirty water, and slipped, landing headfirst into the bucket and turning the whole thing over with a sloppy crash. He laid there face down in a pile of dirty mop water on the floor.
“I’m okaaay,” his muffled voice crooned retardedly.
That was when I jumped up from my chair.
“I just had brilliant idea!” I exclaimed.
The mens’ eyes all widened in unison.
“We’ll send a retard!”
“Brilliant, Brent!” Matthew agreed with enthusiasm, “the White House is swarming with retards! They wouldn’t notice if another one showed up, much less show any suspicion.”
I went over to the retard on the floor and picked him up.
“Okay tard soldier, I think we have an important job for you,” I proudly informed him.
The retard looked up at me with blankness and confusion, “hi Mister Brent. I already spit shined the urinals…also I licked all the light sockets? And they’re all still working! I think I pooped my pants a little though.”
“Good!” I praised him, “let’s get you cleaned up. You’re coming with us.”
The men and I quickly got to work preparing our retard for action. After briefing him on the mission at hand, we equipped him with several tiny spy cameras. Within the next couple hours we all piled into a white van and dropped the retard off several blocks from the White House.
“Here you go, laddie,” Gerard said, handing the retard a packet of Nilla Wafer cookies and a Hi-C juice box.
The retard beamed, “my favorite!”
We all smiled and waved at the retard, and then quickly sped off to a safer location to park our vehicle. Back in the white van, it was time to strap ourselves in to the camera monitors and watch our retard get to work.
Live on the retard camera feed, we watched as the retard shuffled down the block, sipping from his Hi-C juice box, until he eventually made it to the White House lawn. There he smiled and sprawled down onto the grass, staring up at the sun.
“This is it,” I thought out loud, “now we wait.”
As expected, the retard was soon spotted by White House security. Black suited security guards emerged to collect the retard. He turned toward them as they approached, and a big grin lit up on his face.
“Hi!” The retard gurgled to them happily, “I pooped my pants once!”
The black security guard sighed, “I ain’t sign up for the secret service to babysit no retardits.”
His white colleague looked at him, “would you rather go back to protection duty for Michelle Obama?”
The black guard shuddered, “an’ tryin’ not to look at the tent she be pitchin’ every time Obama gives a speech? Sheet. That bitch’s dick is bigger than mine…creeps me the hell out.”
“Anyway,” the white guard said, “is this retard one of ours? What department are we missing retards from?”
The guards began to check the retard over. The men and I lurched forward in our seats as we watched.
“No bar code…,” the black guard noted.
I held my breath. Beside me in the van, Matthew grabbed my hand.
After a long pause that seemed like hours, the black guard finally shrugged, “well, a free retard is a free retard. Ain’t gonna complain.”
“Let’s just send him to the lab,” the white guard suggested, “Melania needs all the supplies she can get down there.”
The men and I sighed heavily with relief. Matthew squeezed my hand with excitement, while Hugh and Gerard fist bumped.
The retard was led by the hand into the White House, and shoved inside an elevator. One of the suited men pressed the down button outside the elevator, and the retard descended. When the doors opened once again, my eyes widened.
“Aye laddies,” Gerard murmured from beside me, “that ol bitch Melania has been mighty busy!”
Our retard had arrived at what appeared to be an underground facility, buried deep beneath the White House.
Long white lab tables stretched from end to end in the vast pale room. An army of goggled scientists in lab coats were studiously working at the tables. Retards in grey custodial uniforms hobbled about, mopping and sweeping, some collecting trash from the lab tables. Several of them crooned retard noises while others picked their noses, played with small objects they had found, or simply stared off into space.
As our retard arrived he was handed a grey uniform and a mop, and pushed toward the middle of the room to begin working.
Melania, flaunting a blood red dress, surveyed her great laboratory like a hawk, stalking slowly around the facility in hungry anticipation of results. Her red high heels ticked devilishly against the floor and her long red dress swayed behind her. Her face was like black ice.
“Soon…” she hissed, “soon I vill know wat makes Gail da most beautiful wooman in da world…”
On the lab tables lay countless copies of Empress Gail’s nude Playboy photos. Several scientists furiously masturbated to the photos, taking notes after each ejaculation. Each of the scientists wore clear plastic tarps, as well as thick lab goggles to protect their eyes from the blitzkrieg of semen blasting all over the area. A “Caution: Wet Floor” sign was erected at the center of the station, warning fellow workers entering the hazardous zone.
In addition to the photos, videos of Gail played on various laptops scattered about the tables. Some of the videos were from Gail’s YouTube channel explaining her diet, exercise and beauty routines. One video was of Gail bleaching her mustache while reading the Bible. Yet another video was one of Gail attempting to use the custom dildo we sent her as a Christmas present one year. She created the video to share with her men as a gift of intimacy, before the Jesuits later stole the video and tried to present it as vulgar. In the video, Gail spread her magnificent legs and looked into the camera, wearing nothing but a blue turtleneck sweater and talking the entire time. Gail thoughtfully made adjustments to the camera in an effort to produce the highest quality video for her men, ultimately failing to accommodate the dildo before concluding that penetration required a man’s force. The scientist watching this video ejaculated so hard he fell and passed out onto the slippery floor next to the Wet Floor sign, but his colleagues were too invested into their work to notice.
Suddenly, one scientist in the middle of the room shot up from his desk.
“I have it!” He shouted, “I have discovered why Gail is the most beautiful woman in the world!”
Melania’s eyes widened.
“WAT!” She exclaimed, “WAT IZ IT? I MUST KNOW THIS EENSTANT!”
A light flashed from behind her on the wall as a projector flashed to life. On screen was a picture of one of Gail’s first nude Playboy photos, complete with Pepe faces censoring her genitalia.
“It’s so simple…” the scientist explained, “Gail’s genetic profile. She’s 50% King David. No woman in the world could compete with the woman after God’s own heart.”
“REE-DICK-ULOUS!” Melania shouted, “you are telling me it iz not POSSIBLE to compete with Gail?!”
“Well,” the scientist continued, “after many tests and careful masturbating, we were able to determine the part of Gail’s body that contains the most concentrated levels of DNA from King David.”
“And zat iz?” Melania frowned, her arms crossed, tapping her fingers impatiently.
“Why, it’s the part of Gail’s body that the Jesuits have been attacking from the very beginning! The crown of Gail’s ripened femininity. Unscathed by scissors, unadulterated from the shearing of razors. Untouched, unkempt, unfettered for over 60 years. The flower which grows on an eternally blooming vine that has sweetened like fine wine.”
“VWHERE?!” Melania snapped. She whipped around to view the nude photo of Gail on the projector, eyeing it scrutinously.
“Well,” the scientist replied, “that would be in the-“
Melania gasped. She approached the screen with awe stricken wonder as her hand glided over Gail’s fully endowed pubic mound. She finished the scientist’s sentence for him.
“In dee PUUUUUBESSSS…” she hissed.
Melania’s red painted nails then curled like claws, and she spun around to face the lab.
“I demand a pube toupee of Gail’s pubes! A divine Pubepee! It is as the crown of Miss Universe, wrongfully placed on the inferior woman Gail, vwhen it should belong to I, Melania Trump!”
“Y-yes,” the scientist bowed his head in submission, “of course. We will get you your Gail pubepee. The question is, how do we steal Gail’s pubes when she is protected by Jesus and the men, and her Gail Shield?”
“Dat’s EASY!” Melania cawed, “I vill present an ultimatum to Gail, varning her that if she does not comply vith my demands for her pubes, I vill KILL Donald Trump, and officially take his place as United States President!” Melania then flailed her head back like a snake and began to cackle, her hands curling into claws with glee.
The men and I looked at each other with pale gazes. We knew immediately that we would protect our Gail and her pubes at all costs, as well as US President Donald Trump, but how?
“Aye lads, it’s time to get to the drawing room. Looks like we’ve got a real bitch on our hands,” Gerard said.
With solidarity and determination, we all nodded. Firing up the white van, we drove back to Church of Gail to deliberate on our plan of action.
The photo above was taken Jan. 13, 2020, with Melania relishing her victory against Empress Gail, by threatening to murder her husband Donald Trump on public television before the world, if Gail would not mail to Melania her King David pubes.
To any hypocrites who criticize me for caving into Melania’s extortion, I HAVE SAVED DONALD TRUMP’S life. Also, Melania has already sawed off both of Trump’s legs. SO WE KNOW THIS BITCH MEANS BUSINESS. I made the video so Melania would know she’s getting my pubes, to save Donald Trump’s life.
Also, if you’ve willingly and knowingly taken any money from Melania Trump or Loree McBride to harass me, that is a death penalty violation of my Conspiracy Law and I’m the U.S. Empress. We have been carrying out public executions on Gabrielle Chana FOX News (00 on cable) of those who have taken Melania’s dirty money. As U.S. Empress, I don’t take the crimes of this deadly psychopath Melania Trump lightly!! To determine whether you deserve the death penalty, we scan your brain and emotions to determine if you know Melania is evil and take her money anyways, or if you are motivated by PURE GREED. If you are just a retard, we spare your life. But taking money from this war criminal is not something we take lightly.
I am the U.S. Empress and have been since 2014. I take seriously the actions of Melania Trump and Loree McBride, both guilty of HIGH TREASON and WAR CRIMES.
Copyright © 2020 Gail Chord Schuler. All Rights Reserved.