Feeling challenged to begin a story that

Feeling challenged to begin a story that doesn't contain the "p word" I transport you to a planet inhabited only a species of sentient vegetatively propagating flatworms: Flatland.

The worms of Flatland were renowned for there generously proportioned members. To non biologists it was hard to tell the difference between the worm and its giant member. Touching

either resulted in the opposite side swelling up and if you went back and forth for a while you'd end up with quite a mess on your hands. The Flatland worms plus-sized genitalia

were blocking the light so I couldn't see very well. I groped around in the dark until I found something I could grab. I yanked so hard I almost ripped the Flatworms in half.

Three years later, the Flatworms approached Donald Trump about asylum. He said, ask me later. They still lived the bridge, with the predator wolves. The wolves were naturalised.

It wasn't until late into the 2nd Trump Regency that as one of his first acts as President for Life of The Assembled States of North America, Barron Trump Jr. granted the flatworms

amnesty, though he had trouble spelling it. The Trump monarchy had to home school to hide their shame, like Scientologists and Jehova's Mormons do. And generally snobby people. The

jokes flying around. For instance, I keep hearing that stupid "Why do they call it an Xbox 360?" joke, even so many years after that console had said goodbye to the world. It was

indicative of either how uncreative people can be, or how slowly a joke can spread and continuously get shared by boomers who've never heard it before. Am I actually out of touch?