You are Donald Trump

When you wake up this morning from unsettling dreams, you find yourself changed in your bed into a monstrous vermin.

You are Donald Trump.

Donald Trump's employees are now your employees. His money is now your money. Nothing you say or do will convince anyone you are not Donald Trump, even his closest friends and family.

What do you do?

I go to the bathroom. I scream and sob with terror over this unnatural event. I spend all his fucking money.

You go to the bathroom. It takes you about nine minutes to do all your business.

You try to flush the toilet, but it turns out to be quite difficult due to your small hands. You eventually succeed. This takes another seven minutes.

Jesus christ.

Yeah, it's kinda horrifying, isn't it. Living with such small hands all your life. Harsh.

Right, OK. How do I get rid of all his money? I go to the bathroom again.

You try to go back to the bathroom, but there is an umbrella in your way.

Huh? An umbrella?

Yes, an umbrella. The manner in which the umbrella got there is beyond the scope of this simulation.

You struggle with it for a bit, with little success. So you give up and just walk away.

To make matters worse, you notice there's a piece of toilet paper stuck to your shoe.

That's... awkward.

Yes. Yes it is.

Anyway, now that you've done your business, it's time to spend Donald Trump's money.

Do I have to spend it? Can't I like, invest it or hoard it or--

That didn't help. Would you like to try and spend all Donald Trump's money instead?

Fine, but do I have to spend it?

You cannot invest it, keep it, or earn more of it. You can only spend it.

But that's a really inefficient way to use wealth. Oh, all right.

Sure, sure. But let's be honest: you, Donald Trump, never really knew how to use wealth efficiently, did you.

I mean, Trump Steaks? Trump Vodka? 'Nuff said.

Well, all right.

Below are some things you might consider spending it on.

Pay off student loan debt (-$1.5 trillion) Repair Puerto Rico (-$139 billion) Pay for the Border Wall and then not build it (-$70 billion) Pay personal taxes (-$57.72 billion) Hire 100,000 new teachers for four years each (-$22.4 billion) End homelessness in the United States (-$20 billion)

Silly you! You don't have any real money! It's all debt!

Wait, what?!

No, really! You were losing a hundred million USD per year for a decade or so, remember?

Seriously?

Yup! And your businesses went bankrupt.

Six times.

Oh... oh wow.

You begin to remember, confused and perhaps a bit ashamed.

You sit and contemplate your (admittedly brief) existence as Donald Trump. The unimaginable wealth you thought you had, but didn't. The many problems that your hands were too small to fix.

Feeling rather awkward, you lie down, and slowly you drift off to sleep.

...

When you wake up this morning from unsettling dreams, you find yourself changed in your bed into a monstrous vermin.

You are Jeff Bezos.