The Accidental Patriot Who Self-Deported

Chet was as American as apple pie, monster trucks, and microwaved Hot Pockets. He was born in Topeka, Kansas, never owned a passport, and once tried to secede from his HOA because they wouldn’t let him paint his mailbox red, white, and blue.

One evening, after binge-watching eight straight hours of Trump’s speeches on loop (played backward for “extra patriotism”), Chet decided he would prove once and for all that the “self-deportation program” was brilliant.

“See?” he told his neighbor Darla while holding a bald eagle lawn ornament. “Trump’s just givin’ people a fair shake. You leave nice and voluntary, and BOOM—you get a thousand bucks. Capitalism at its finest.”

Darla blinked. “Chet… you’re a citizen. Why would you deport yourself?”

“Because, Darla, that’s what winners do. We don’t just talk freedom. We practice it—on ourselves.”

So, armed with nothing but his Bass Pro Shop duffel bag and a cooler of Mountain Dew, Chet downloaded the CBP Home app, checked the box that said I solemnly swear I am leaving America forever, and hit submit.

Moments later, a digital fireworks animation exploded across his screen, followed by a cheerful notification:

Congratulations! You have successfully self-deported. Please collect your thousand dollars and exit stage right.

Chet strutted to the bus station, convinced he’d be back in time for Sunday BBQ. But the bus rolled south, the driver didn’t stop, and by dawn he found himself in rural Mexico, clutching a government-issued check like a golden Wonka ticket.

He shrugged. “Well, at least I got my thousand bucks,” he muttered, before realizing the check was denominated in pesos.

Meanwhile, Darla back in Topeka just shook her head. “Only in America,” she sighed, “can you be too patriotic to stay American.”