Chappaqua, New York, about one year ago…
The
man with the funny hair and the orange colored skin stepped out of his private
helicopter and started toward the white mansion. Halfway to the back door, he
was met by a handsome man with silver hair. “Donnie!” The man reached his hand
out. “I’m so glad you could make it.”
“Billy,”
said Donnie as he grasped the man’s open palm, “it’s always a pleasure.”
“Come
on inside,” Billy said with a slow Arkansas drawl, “Hillary’s waiting for us.”
The
two men walked through a glass door on the back patio, through a family room,
and into a large study. Inside, a woman with blond hair was yelling into the receiver
of a telephone. “…I swear to God, if I hear you use the words email, server, or
scandal one more time I will cut out your fucking tongue and shove it up your
fucking ass!” The woman noticed the two men walk through the door. “Sorry, I’ve
got to go. Love you too, Chelsea.” She hung up the phone, turned to the man
with the funny hair and spread her arms out wide. “Donnie! I’m so glad you
could make it.”
“Hill’babe,”
Donnie replied as he gave her a big hug, “you look spectacular!”
“Can
I get you a drink?” Billy asked.
“Whatever
you’re having,” Donnie answered.
Billy
walked over to a small mahogany bar and poured three tumblers of Brandy. “The
reason we invited you here,” he said as he handed out the drinks, “actually,
maybe it’s better if Hillary told you.”
“Donnie,
we’ve been good friends for a long time…”
“Good
friends? I would say great friends.”
“And
as you know, I’m running for President, again...”
“And
you’re going to make a marvelous President…I couldn’t be happier for you…wait,
is that why you invited me here? Are you going to ask me what I think you’re
going to ask me? You want me to be your running mate?”
“No,
Donnie.” Hillary took a gulp of her Brandy. “I want you to run against me.”
A
small amount of brown liquid sprayed out of Donnie’s mouth. “Against you! Why
would you want me to run against you? You’ve already got the Democratic
nomination in the bag. I would only do damage to the party.”
“Donnie,”
Billy chimed in, “I don’t think you understand. We want you to run as a
Republican.”
“A
Republican? Why would I run as a Republican? I don’t hold any of the same
beliefs as those fundamentalist hillbillies.”
Hillary
walked to the bar and poured another tumbler. “We need you to destroy the
Republican Party from within.”
“We’ve
done some recent poling,” Billy added, “and my wife isn’t fairing so well
against some of the early contenders. I mean, we got yet another Bush who wants
to follow in his daddy’s footsteps; some kid from Cuba who thinks he’s the next
Obama; hell, even that fat troll from Jersey poles well against Hillary. You,
on the other hand…”
“But
what I don’t understand is why you’d even want to go back to the White House?
Things seem nice up here in Chapaquaquaqua. Why deal with all that stress?”
Billy
smiled. “Well, Hillary has “aspirations” of becoming the first “female”
president. As for me, I have other “aspirations.” Do you know how much pussy I
got when I was in the White House?”
Hillary
stared daggers into her husband. “Fat pussy.”
“Better
than old pussy,” Billy replied.
This
made Donnie laugh. “But what’s in it for me?”
“The
one thing you want for than anything,” Hillary answered.
Donnie’s
eyes lit up. “Money!”
“Oh,
you’ve already got all the money you need. I’m talking about something you love
even more than money—fame. If you think you’re famous now, wait until you run
for president. And think about the reality show you can have when it’s over.”
Donnie
looked towards the ceiling and nodded his head. “You know I’m going to be nasty.”
“The
nastier the better.”
“You
know I’m going to say stupid, ignorant things.”
“You
always do.”
Donnie
smiled. “Okay. Sounds like fun. I’ll do it.” He shook both of their hands. “So
what’s next?”
“We
head to the bedroom,” Billy said, “and have a three-way on top of the taxpayers’
money?”
Donnie
began to unbutton his shirt. “I thought you’d never ask.”
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