MAGA's house is burning down — and it's Joe Biden's fault

(Disclaimer: This story is fiction. Or is it?)

My MAGA neighbor threw a party in his yard last week. Because our kids are on the same soccer team, I went.

Tom, may he rest in peace, was not a bad guy. He was just misguided… and xenophobic. He definitely didn’t deserve to die, though.

Nor did his kids.

Nor his dog.

At the end of the day, after the burgers were gone and everyone else had left, we were sitting on his deck, shooting the breeze about the soccer team and how awful we both thought the coach was.

That’s when Tom blurted out something to the effect of, because the guy was Black, you’d think he’d be a “natural.”

Needless to say, the comment took me by surprise, and before I knew it, our friendly chit-chat had inevitably turned to politics—something I usually try to avoid at all costs. But since it was just the two of us, and I’d had a few beers, I decided to try to get him to see the error of his ways.

I told him his comment was stereotypical and offensive.

“What do you care?” he said. “You’re white.”

From there, I upped the ante and moved on to our out-of-control president. I listed $6 gas, a lost war with hundreds of dead schoolgirls, American citizens murdered in the streets by a bloodthirsty deputized Gestapo, the lies, the corruption, siding with Russia over Ukraine—and us, for that matter. And, of course, the still-unreleased Epstein files.

To no avail.

Everything I said was met with a “whatabout.”

“What about Biden?”

“What about Hillary?”

On and on it went until I finally couldn’t take it anymore. I told him I was leaving.

As I got up, the wind blew a spark from the grill onto a drape hanging in Tom’s open kitchen window.

“Hey, Tom. You might wanna turn around. Your grill just caught your kitchen curtain.”

“Nice try, Dave. You’re just trying to change the subject because you know you lost.”

“Seriously, Tom. Forget politics. Your charcoal just caught the drape. It’s starting to smoke.”

“Cry some more, Dave. You snowflake.”

“Tom, your kitchen is catching fire and your kids are inside! And your dog! We need to call 911.”

“Looks like someone’s suffering from a case of TDS!”

“I’m calling your wife!”

“She’s giving a speech at CPAC. Won’t be back 'til eight.”

“Tom, I’m not kidding. Your entire kitchen is on fire.”

“Fake news.”

Just then, the smoke alarm started screaming.

Tom rolled his eyes.

“Of course. Even the smoke detectors are woke.”

“I’m calling 911!”

“Go ahead,” he said. “Waste taxpayer money. Typical liberal.”

By now, three-foot flames were shooting out the kitchen window.

“Tom, we need to get your kids out of the house! Now!”

“They’re fine.”

“TOM! YOUR HOUSE IS ON FIRE!”

“That’s your opinion.”

“No, Tom! Fire isn’t an opinion! IT’S A FACT!”

“Do your own research.”

I ran toward the house.

Tom grabbed my arm.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“To get your kids!”

“Stay off my property, communist.”

“Tom, they’re upstairs!”

“Fearmongering. Typical socialist. Bet they have measles, too.”

A window shattered.

“Jesus Christ, Tom!”

“Leave Jesus out of this. You’re Jewish.”

“Tom! DO SOMETHING! YOUR ROOF IS ABOUT TO COLLAPSE!”

“USA! Cough. USA! Gag. USA!”

The heat had become unbearable. Tom dropped to his knees, gasping for air.

With no alternative, I ran to safety.

Six minutes later, the fire department arrived.

They were too late.

Tom, his children and Adolf the dog were all lost in the fire.

Tom’s last words were “TRUMP! TRUMP! TR-(cough)”

Investigators later determined the cause of death was smoke inhalation.

Tom’s Facebook friends blamed Biden.

But I knew the real cause.

Fox News.