Donald Trump stands at the center of the stage, gripping the microphone with both hands, a confident yet awkward sway to his stance. The crowd's roar crescendos as he prepares to sing his latest song, a self-aggrandizing anthem titled "I Love Myself More Than Anyone in the Entire World."

"Nobody's greater, nobody's finer—" "I look in the mirror, it's a real headliner—" "Me, myself, the greatest ever!" In the VIP section, Chris Martin, the lead singer of Coldplay, winces at the discordant melody, his fingers gripping the armrest in discomfort.

"You're selfish! And you're also ugly!" The stadium falls into an abrupt silence, the music halting. Trump stands frozen on stage, his spray-tanned face twitching with a mix of anger and disbelief.

The dart flies through the air, striking Chris Martin square in the forehead. He staggers, gasping for breath, and whispers his final words. "Viva... la... vida..." His body crumples to the ground, lifeless, as chaos erupts around him.

Police officers storm the stage, determination in their eyes. One officer points decisively at Trump. "You're under arrest! You're caught red-handed!" Trump blinks, trying to dismiss the situation with a wave of his hand. "Fake news," he mutters, but it's too late.

The once-boisterous crowd now murmurs in confusion and disbelief, the weight of what they've witnessed settling in. In the sky above, the night remains unchanged, a silent witness to the night's unexpected turn of events.