THE GREAT ALASKA GIVEAWAY

Satire from the Future

Scene: An oversized conference table in a convention hall in Anchorage. The décor looks like a wedding planner gave up halfway through — fake gold trim, a backdrop of wrinkled American and Russian flags, and a “WELCOME WORLD LEADERS” banner clearly recycled from a Rotary Club luncheon. Trump sits at one end, grinning like he’s about to close the biggest real estate deal of his life. Putin sits across from him, expressionless, sipping tea like a man watching a toddler attempt algebra.

TRUMP:

“Vladimir, I think we’re about to do something historic here. Tremendous. The best peace deal ever. The fake news won’t admit it, but never mind them. Here’s my idea: You end the war in Ukraine — which, frankly, you were gonna do anyway because I asked nicely — and in exchange, you get… well, half of Alaska. Not the whole thing, just the boring half. Nobody cares about that part, lots of snow, hardly any golf courses. You’ll love it. It’s classy snow. Very white. The whitest.”

Putin tilts his head slightly, like a cat deciding whether to eat the mouse now or let it run a little longer.

PUTIN:

“Half is generous. Perhaps in time, the other half also.”

TRUMP:

“We’ll see. I’m flexible. Art of the deal, Vlad. And look — the Nobel Committee is going to love this. Two world leaders ending decades of tension. They’ll give me the prize, maybe you too, but mostly me. I’ll look great holding it. The pictures will be beautiful. Perfect lighting. My hands will look very big.”

Trump waves his hands in the air to illustrate “big,” nearly knocking over a small plate of smoked salmon someone thought would make this meeting feel authentically Alaskan.

Suddenly, the double doors at the back of the hall creak open. In wander Lisa Murkowski and Sarah Palin, both looking like they weren’t invited but decided to swing by anyway.

MURKOWSKI:

“Hey, just checking in — I heard something about giving half the state to Russia? That’s fine, but I need a clause in there that says people who kill whales don’t have to pay taxes. Subsistence hunting, commercial, I don’t care. I’m a big-tent Republican.”

PALIN:

“Also, can we get Russia to promise to keep the pipeline running? And I want moose crossings, like the ones in Canada. Big arches, very festive.”

Trump nods earnestly, scribbling the words NO WHALE TAX in Sharpie on the draft treaty like he’s signing a middle school yearbook.

PUTIN:

“These… are your legislators?”

TRUMP:

“Some of them. We have a lot of women in politics now. Very big with the women. They love me. Nobody has done more for women than me, maybe Cleopatra, but she’s dead so I win.”

From outside the building, through a massive glass window, the camera catches Volodymyr Zelenskyy standing next to a moose that looks as confused as everyone else in the room. He’s bundled in a parka, holding a folder, muttering to the moose in Ukrainian like it might be his only sympathetic audience left on the planet.

ZELENSKYY (to moose):

“He is literally giving your state away. And you stand here chewing. Maybe you are smarter than all of them.”

Back inside, Trump slides the treaty toward Putin.

TRUMP:

“So we’re good? I get the Nobel, you get half of Alaska, Lisa gets her whale thing, and Sarah… well, Sarah gets to say she was here. Everybody wins. History, folks. Big history. People will talk about this for centuries.”

PUTIN:

“Yes. They will talk.”

Putin signs with a slow, deliberate flourish, as if etching America’s humiliation into the geological record. Trump immediately holds the document up for cameras that aren’t there, shouting about victory. Murkowski claps politely. Palin asks if this means she can see Russia from her porch again.

Outside, Zelenskyy climbs onto the moose and rides away into the snow, because frankly, what else is there to do?

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