*** January 4th, 2008, after the Iowa primary election *** Former President Bill Clinton was spread out on the hotel bed, comfortably lounging in his boxers and eating from a box of Oreos while his wife, Senator Hillary Clinton, paced back and forth across the hotel room floor, clearly agitated. "Iowans must the stupidest voters in the world if they can't get behind a winner like ME," she said, exasperated. "Hillary, it will get better. You just have to stay the..." "Don't call me that, you worthless shit." "I want to help you darlin'--" Hillary threw her daytimer at Bill. The book landed with a *thwok* on his forehead, causing papers to fly everywhere. "You hurt my feelings, Hillary." "I said don't call me that, you cigar-smoking bastard." "You hurt my feelings.. Senator." Unsatisfied, Hilary pounced onto the bed and raised her clawed fingers inches from his eyes. "What are you going to do to turn this around for me, you son of a bitch?" "Me? Am I at fault because some retarded Midwesterners don't like you?" Grabbing the telephone on the bedstand beside her, she chucked it at Bill's face. Once again it thwok'ed him on the head. "Yes, you are. You are responsible if I lose." She paused before her next word, making sure to exaggerate the enunciation with her tongue. "Lewwwinnnskiii." Bill starts singing, "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine..." "Stop that! You aren't governor anymore, you dumb shit. Now you better get to work. Remember, if I don't get elected, you won't be nominated to the Supreme Court. That's the deal." "Do I still get to choose my own staff there?" "No." "That's no incentive, Hil-- I mean, Senator." "All right, fine. You get me elected and you can choose your own goddamn staff." "You are going to be the comeback kid, Senator." Just then a nubile young lady enters the room. "Oh, I'm sorry to interrupt. I'm just here to give you your schedule, Senator Clinton." "I don't give a -blam!- about my schedule. Clean this shit up." Hilary impatiently motions to the papers littering the floor before barging out the door. The young woman looks at Bill in bewilderment. "Hi, darlin', I don't think we've met. I'm Bill Clinton. Are you an intern?" -------------------- Happy Belated Bill. This playlist's for you. Listen now on iMusee+™ for iOS: [url]http://goo.gl/btpWcT[/url] Like us on Facebook: [url]https://www.facebook.com/iMuseePlus[/url]