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Thank God for Sharper Image

Chapter Text

Out of breath, Bill dismounted Hillary. “Whew, I got an early breakfast, and my boy got to take you for a spin.” He smiled. “I’m so happy, baby.”

“Good,” she said, taking out a notebook and focusing.

Breathing hard, he looked over at her. “Wha…whatcha doing, Hill?”

“Adding more to my plan.” Her face was stoic.

He swallowed, still trying to catch his breath. “Your Master Plan?”


He watched her as she wrote, curious about her next move. “Anything interesting?”

She looked over at him. “I’m gonna get my own reality show and hire a trained bear to kill Betsy Devos.” She looked back to the notebook.

Bill chuckled. “Killing Devos is like cutting off one of the Great Beast’s heads. There’ll still be six left, baby—seventeen if you’re going by the line of succession.”

“I have plans for those, too,” she said, circling a phone number before picking up the clamshell.

He quirked an eyebrow. “Who are you calling?”

She didn’t answer. “Larry?” she said, listening as the man explained. “Great. I’ll be in touch.” She hung up.

“Larry who?”

She rolled her eyes. “Larry Flynt, Bill. Gosh, it’s like you haven’t been paying attention or something.” She looked back to her notebook.

He swallowed, smiling as he stared at the ceiling. “My boy’ll be ready in ten minutes, baby.”

“No need, Bill.” She got out of bed. “I have things to do.”

“What things?” he whined.

“I just told you. I’m enacting the part three of my Master Plan. Had you come to the last meeting instead of flying to South Korea with your friends, you’d know the details.”

“All I know is my cock’ll be ready in eight minutes, and the Minx needs to be available!”

“She won’t be,” Hillary said, walking to the bathroom.

Struggling with the sheets, Bill followed. “Hilly,” he whined, not wanting her to leave. “I need you, baby. I’m 70 years old. I only have forty, maybe fifty years of life left.”

She was exasperated as she peed. “Have you talked to Paul this morning?”

“No,” he said, pouting. “Ever since he became lucid again, he’s been spending most of his time with Huma. I mean, you’d think a guy in a stable relationship could let his girl do her own thing without begging her to stick around, right?”

She flushed. “They’re making up for lost time, Bill.”

He was appalled. “Paul would still be drooling at the mouth if it weren’t for me!”

“Not true.”

Grinning, he thought back. “You’re right, baby. Clittie should get the credit. If it weren’t for my girl, Paulie’d still be begging for water.”

“Bye, Bill,” she said, kissing his cheek. “Talk to Paul.”

She left, and he looked down at his new erection, pissed. “Fuck,” he said, proud of himself. “Four minutes, Johnson? I’m impressed.”


Bill sat at the kitchen table browsing his newly ordered medical journal while Paul and Huma made out next to him. Cuddling close, they fed each other a family-sized box of Stouffers.

“Says here that intractable hiccups can be cured with a finger up the ass.” Unaffected by Bill’s declaration, they continued canoodling. He was miffed.

Huma patted Paul’s cheek before standing. “I’ll be out front, Paulie.”

He giggled, kissing her hands. “I’ll be out soon, Humey.”

Bill rolled his eyes.

Once she left, Paul sighed. “Done with your coffee yet, Forty-two?”

Bill quirked an eyebrow. “Why?”

Paul giggled, clasping his hands together. “No reason.”

Suspicious, Bill slowly walked to the coffee pot and topped off his cup. “May take a while,” he drawled, staring at Paul.

“Take your time.”

Bill squinted, pouring so much coffee that it spilled onto the countertop. He squatted sucking the brim. “I’m serious, Paul. I may be drinking coffee all day.”

“No problem,” Paul said, giggling so hard he wheezed.


Sitting in the van, Hillary added “5-gallon buckets” to her list while holding the phone with her shoulder. “What are you talking about, Bill?”

“He’s acting fucking crazy!” Bill yelped, voice echoing off the bathroom walls as his hand pressed against the tiles.

“You’re being ridiculous. Huma says he’s been nothing but wonderful.”

“That’s because she’s fucking him, Hillary! And Paulie…!”

She placed the phone on the seat while picking her nails. Once Bill calmed, she picked it back up. “Are you done?”

“Were you even listening to me?!”

“No, Bill. I told you, I’m on part three of my Master Plan, and I don’t have time for this foolishness.”

“But Hillary…!” he cried, and she moved the phone away again, circling the word “Joe” on her list. She put the phone back to her ear. “…and I had nine cups of coffee this morning to survive it!” he said, wincing while wiping his brow.

“You shouldn’t’ve done that, Bill. You know how sensitive you are to coffee.” She handed Randal her other phone, smiling as she showed him pictures of the grandchildren.

“But I was afraid!” Bill cried.

She arrived at Home Depot. “Gotta go, Bill. And no more coffee.”

“But, baby…!”

“Bye, Bill.”

Miffed, he hung up, gagging as he flushed. As he left the bathroom, he saw Paul standing in the doorway.

“Done with your coffee yet, Forty-two?”

Bill nodded, guarded. “I’ve been ass to toilet for the past hour.”

“Great!” Paul said. “Let’s go outside.”

“For what, Paulie? Isn’t it enough that a big, fat Russian whore is in the White House?” He looked towards the ceiling. “What was that glowing orb, Lord? And why did his arms get so long after he touched it?”

“Calm down, dude. There’s a surprise outside!”

Bill squinted, staring at Paul’s happy face. “What kind of surprise?”


Paul put a blindfold on Bill before they stepped on the back porch.

“I can’t see, Paulie!”

“Shh…” Paul cooed. “We’re just going across the yard.” He held Bill’s hand.

“But there’re snakes in this yard,” Bill said, panicking. “And I’m barefoot. What if I step on glass or Fuck Face von Clownstick’s wig? Hillary and I tried to barbeque it, but the little bastard wouldn’t die.”

“Dude,” Paul said exasperated. “We’re only going twenty, maybe thirty feet.”

Bill stopped. “Which one is it, Paul?”


“The feet! How many feet are we going?!”

“I just told you!”

“You said twenty or thirty!”

“Five feet now, Forty-two. Is that enough information for you?”

“Don’t get smart, Paul! You may be lucid again, but…”

“Surprise!” Paul snatched off the blindfold. “It’s here, dude! Your fucking shed!” He wrapped a bunch of balloons around Bill’s wrist.

Bill’s eyes grew wide, and he slowly walked towards it, grazing the door with his fingers. “It’s beautiful, Paulie.”

“It’s made of plastic for easy cleanup of those random cum shots.”

Bill swallowed, amazed. “I love it,” he whispered. “Come inside with me.”

“No way, dude. This is your moment. Besides, I never went in your last shed—except for that time you passed out after getting a copy of Hustler, but I had no choice.”

“It was the dirtiest thing I’d ever seen, Paulie.” Bill swallowed again, thrilled. “Larry has a gift.”

Paul handed Bill the keys. “Have fun. I’ll be outside.”

“Paulie?” Bill cooed, swallowing.


“Who replaced my magazines?”

“I did, Forty-two.”

Bill nodded, appreciative. “And my cigars?”

“Well, Franco left his stash from a few weeks ago, so I just…”

Bill held his hand up. “That’s all I need to know, son. Thank you.”

Paul nodded, lighting a cigarette as he walked across the yard.


As soon as Bill opened the door, he took a deep breath, glancing at the magazines organized by calendar year.

“Ahh, 1992. A good year for us both, Playboy.” He hiccupped and paused, looking around before smiling. “This is the life,” he drawled, leaning back in his Sharper Image Human Touch Novo XT Massage Chair. As soon as he turned to the center fold, he hiccupped again, this time, holding his chest.

He tried not to panic. “Breathe deeply, Governor.” He put a cigar to his lips and hiccupped again, but that time, the pain shot through his chest. “Fuck!” he mumbled as the cigar fell to the floor. He hiccupped again, turning red. “Oh, fuck! Fuck! I’m dying! Paulie?! P—aulie?!”


Paul stood in the front lawn holding Huma close. “You look so beautiful, Humey. I know it’s been a tough couple’a weeks.”

She nodded. “I’m just happy you’re back to normal, Paulie. It was so hard getting you dressed before Lawrence came to help.”

Paul was shocked. “Bill said he dressed me each day.”

She smiled. “If “getting dressed” means stuffing your coat pockets with cigarettes, then he did.”

Paul teared up, shuffling his foot across the gravel. “He did that for me?”


“Pa—ul!” Bill called, hiccupping mid-sentence. “Fuck!” he screamed, falling to the floor in desperation. “Too much fu—cking coffee! I don’t want a f—inger up my ass!” The magazine fell with him, opening to the feature article. Bill glanced at it and winced. “Fu—ck you, Al D’Amato,” he whispered, writhing. “Nothing’s wo—rse than a man who hogs popcorn.” Hiccupping once more, he passed out from the pain.

Chapter Text

Later that morning, Hillary stood in the driveway with her arms crossed as a freight truck backed in. She took out her notebook and checked off her list.

“You’re good!” Randal yelled to the driver. Hillary walked to the back of the truck.

“Mornin’ ma’am,” the driver said, jumping out and tipping his cap. “Weird kinda delivery if you ask…”

“No one’s asking,” she said curtly. “Open the back.”

Miffed, he pulled open the back, revealing Aloysius, a caged bear. “Trainer says he comes with your choice of three weapons. An assault rilfe, a sniper rif—”

“I have the manual,” Hillary interrupted. “Besides, he should be trained to kill one person only.”

“But ma’am, he’s a wild beast. Experts say…”

“Offload him,” she directed.

The man did as he was instructed, lowering the cage to the driveway.

“Thank you,” Hillary said.

“But ma’am,” the man said, concerned, “Are you sure you want Aloysius as a pet? He’s known to make kill shots. The beast is dangerous.”

Hillary looked the bear up and down, reaching inside the cage to open his jaw with her bare hands. She surveyed his teeth, squinting as she held his mouth open wider. “He’s perfect.”


Bill walked back into the house, smiling. “Ahh, King of the Shed.” He slammed himself to the couch and picked up Time Magazine. “Hmm, the White House looks Russian on this cover.” He flipped to the articles. “What the hell happened to this country?!”

“Bill!” Hillary called, snapping her fingers.


“Sex. Now.”

His eyes grew big.

“You will start by licking me to completion, and then you will fuck me.”

He salivated, stunned.

“Afterwards you will massage my ass for twenty minutes. Not ten. Not fifteen. A full twenty.”

“I’ll make sure if it,” he drawled, following her. He dropped the magazine. “But baby,” he said, rushing to keep up with her fast pace. “Can I massage it for thirty minutes? And can I kiss it, too?”

She turned around. “Make it forty,” she said, looking at her watch. She took out the notebook, crossing off her list. Bill glanced at it and swallowed, completely uncaring. “You have until noon to accomplish your mission.”

He looked at his watch. “Oh, baby,” he cooed, happy about the time. “Was the Orange Fuckface killed or something?”


Bill rolled off Hillary once again, out of breath. “Damn. Breakfast and lunch. It’s like you’re trying to make me gain the weight back, Hilly. My boy’s full, too.”

“Good,” she said, checking off her list again.



“Whatcha checkin’ off?”

“My list, Bill.”

He was concerned. “Was…” he swallowed. “Was sex on your list?”

“MmmHmm…” she said, flipping the page.

He swallowed, still trying to catch his breath. “And an ass massage?”

She nodded. “And get started, Bill. Don’t mess up my schedule.”

He quirked his eyebrow and stood as she flipped over. He put both hands on her ass, pressing deep before moving.

“Mmm…that feels good.”

He closed his eyes. “Baby, please, no moaning while I do this, or it’ll end up being Valentine’s Day all over again.”

She squinted, picking up her notebook.



“Did you just add that to your plan?”

“What if I did?”

His eyes grew big.

“I enjoyed our Valentine’s Day this year, and perhaps I’d want to revisit that.” She turned around. “Would that be okay with you?”

“What the fuck’s going on?!”


Standing outside, Bill watched Hillary scream orders through the phone as she held her notebook. Paul slapped his shoulder. “Beautiful day, Forty-two.”

Bill shook his head. “Something’s up with Hillary,” the man said, staring. “She’s got some kind of diabolical plan in that notebook. I’d swear it was the Clinton Kill List, but she’s added groceries to it.”

Paul looked over at her. “Doubt it, dude. She’s the sane one.”

Furious, Hillary kicked the van’s hood and spat on the windshield before punching a tree and screaming.

“You’d think that,” Bill said, watching her pace as she took out a pack of cigarettes. She held one to her lips as Randal lit it. “Did you see that?!”

“See what?” Paul asked, dusting off his jacket.

“She’s…” Hillary blew out smoke as she took out a second cigarette. She lit it with the first and placed it in her mouth. “She’s fucking smoking, Paulie! And two cigarettes at once!”

Paul looked over at her. “Calm down, dude. Everyone smokes. The new Surgeon General says it adds years to your life, and he would know. Used to work for the tobacco lobby.” Paul lit a cigarette, blowing out smoke. “You know Hillary plans to live for another 70 years. She smokes all fucking day.”

Bill was confused, but he accepted the explanation.

“Bill!” she called, pointing to her watch. “Sex! Now!”

His eyes grew big. “I’m scared, Paulie.”

“It’s sex, dude! Give the lady what she wants!”

Bill nodded, grinning. “You’re right, son. As the greatest president who’s ever lived, it’s my duty to fuck Hillary senseless.” He followed her as she stomped into the house.

Chapter Text

Bill dismounted Hillary, completely spent. “Three times, baby girl? I haven’t eaten this much since I became vegan.” He licked his lips. “My boy’s satisfied, too.”

“Good,” she said, taking out her notebook again.

“What the fuck, Hill?”

She ignored him. “Aloysius needs an afternoon snack and playtime with the assault rifle.”

Bill squinted, confused. “Who the fuck’s Aloysius?”

“The bear I adopted that’s trained to kill Betsy Devos. He’s out in your shed.”

“You were fuckin’ serious?!”

She put on her glasses. “How many times do I have to go over this? Aloysius is critical to the implementation of my Master Plan.” She sneezed and kept writing.

He was afraid. “What’s this about an assault rifle?”

“He’s an expert marksman, Bill. From birth, his handler taught him how to shoot in the Alaskan mountains. He was trained to specifically follow my vocal instructions.”

“And he listens to you?!”

“Of course,” she said, unaffected. “I’m Hillary Clinton.”

Bill lay back down, stunned. He shot up. “He’s where?!”

“In your new shed. He needed a quiet place to calm down.”

“And you chose my shed?!”

“Yes,” she said, sneezing again. “Gosh, this pollen.”

“But Hillary!” he cried, watching as she got out of bed. “I just got that shed back, and you put a fucking wild animal in there?!”

“To whom much is given, much is required, Bill.” She walked to the bathroom as he struggled to get out of the sheets.

He watched her pee again, amazed at how nonchalant she was being. “Baby, do you really think killing Devos is worth it?” She flushed. “I mean, the woman can’t string a sentence together. I fucking swear her and Tiny Hands only have two brain cells between them.”

“Move, Bill.”


She washed her hands. “Look, I’m heading to the studio down in Manhattan, and you’re welcome to join me.”

“What studio?!”

She sneezed again and grabbed her notebook. She wrote the word “Claritin” on the list. “The television studio. I told you I’m starting my own show.” She wiped her eyes as she got dressed.

“What type of show, Hillary?”

“A reality show. It’ll only air in the flyover market, but that’s my aim anyway.” She threw a tie at his face. “Get dressed. Randal’s waiting in the van.”

Bill rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why you keep him around, Hill. He’s too fuckin’ straight-laced. Bastard barely talks.”

“I couldn’t shut him up this morning,” she said, closing the drawer. “Once he hauled Aloysius to the shed with his bare hands, he was cursing like crazy.”

Bill placed his hand to his chest, stunned.


Nearly blinded by the studio lights, Bill looked over his shoulder as he followed her across the set. “Baby,” he whispered as she kept up her quick pace. “Do you really think you should do this?”

“I’m doing it, Bill.”

“But…” he said, looking around again. “Why are you wearing leather pants and a crop top? And what’s up with that weird hat?”

“It’s a dick hat, Bill.”

“I can see that.”

“I talked with the producers, and they thought it was a good idea.”

“To wear a cock on your head?!” he screamed, looking around again. “Baby,” he said, calming. “Why are you doing this?”

She stopped walking. “It’s a part of my Master Plan, Bill. If an illiterate, D-list, reality show host can get to the White House, then I can dumb myself down enough to become beloved by ‘real’ America.”

“I grew up in ‘real’ America, Hillary! Unless you plan to blow in a jug as a musical accompaniment, this plan isn’t gonna work!”

“I’m doing it, Bill,” she said, adjusting her breasts. “And I have celebrities here to help me.”

“Who?!” He scanned the room and saw Keith Richards standing afar off along with Snoop Dogg. His eyes grew big. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me, Hillary!”

She dusted off her shoulder. “I’m not, Bill. Now go have a seat. I made sure everyone in the first three rows gets a complementary dick hat to wear during filming.”

His mouth dropped as he watched her walk off. “I can’t believe this shit,” he whispered, staring at her ass. “I’ve been trying to get her to wear leather pants for years!”

“Dude,” Paul said, startling Bill. “Hurry up! I want my complementary dick hat!”

Bill rolled his eyes, following Paul to the audience. “This is fuckin’ crazy,” he said, sitting down as he watched Hillary do an elaborate handshake with Snoop. Paul put a dick hat on Bill’s head without him noticing. “What the fuck are they gonna do? Smoke pot or something?”

Bill looked over at Paul as the agent rolled a joint. “Hey,” Paul said, pointing to the signage, “It says ‘Please light up’. It would be rude if I didn’t, dude!”

Bill looked back at a seemingly carefree Hillary. “I know her, Paulie. If there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s that Hillary Diane Rodham Clinton would never smoke a joint. I’d bet my life on it.” Hillary giggled as Snoop held his hand to her back, teaching her how to roll it. Bill’s eyes grew big. “But she hasn’t smoked it yet!” Keith held the joint to her lips and lit it. “But she hasn’t fucking inhaled!” Hillary inhaled, blowing smoke out like a pro. “What the fuck’s going on?!”


As Bill and Paul pulled into the driveway, Bill was stunned by the large crowd on his lawn. “Who the fuck are these people?!”

“Fans,” Paul said, lighting another cigarette. “Hillary planned a house party this afternoon. Didn’t you get an invitation?” He pulled the envelope from his coat pocket. “If you scratch it, it smells like victory.”

“An invitation?! It’s my fucking house!”

“Hers, too, dude,” he said, blowing out smoke. Paul looked around. “I wonder when the strippers are coming.”

“Strippers?!” Bill was intrigued. “Men or women?”

“Both,” Paul said, giggling. “She’s incredible. Loses the most important election in American history and gets a whole new lease on life. It’s really inspiring.”

Bill looked at the young guests, watching as a few headed to the backyard. “My fucking shed!”


As Bill kicked the door open, he was stunned to find Larry Flynt sitting with girls on his lap. “Mr. President,” he grunted.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Larry?!”

Larry shooed the girls away. “I’m Hillary’s guest. We’re hosting the party together.” Bill’s eyes grew big. “Said she needed someone with my talent to funk up the place.”

Bill looked around, stunned at the changes. “Wh…where are my Playboys?” he whispered, teary.

“Threw them out, Sir. Nothing but the best for the ‘sex president’,” Larry said, pointing to the new Hustler magazines.

Bill swallowed, grazing them with his fingers. “They’re the most disgusting things I’ve ever seen,” he whispered, thrilled. “I nearly died the last time I saw one.” He wiped away a tear. “Thanks, Larry.”

“You’re welcome.”

Bill looked around, still so confused. “Have you seen a bear, by chance?”

“You mean Aloysius? He’s in the house.” Bill’s eyes grew big. “Hillary wanted him to get accustomed to the furniture.”

“My fucking house!” he screamed, running from the shed.


As Hillary sat in the van making out with Randal, her phone rang.


“Hillary!” Bill screamed. “You let a fucking bear in our house?!” He sat on the stoop.

“Yeah, and?”

He waved his hands in the air, shooing away some kids who shot him with a confetti gun. “He’s a fucking animal, Hillary!”

“And so are Maisie and Tally, but they live in the house.”

“They’re dogs, Hill! Where are you, anyway?!”

She pushed Randal off of her. “I’m on my way, but in the meanwhile, keep our guests entertained.”

“By doing what?! Swinging my cock around?!”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” she said, reaching for her list.

He heard her writing and became incensed. “Are you adding more to that fucking list, Hillary?!”

Exasperated, she dropped the pen. “So what if I am, Bill?”

“Have you lost your fucking mind?!”

“Dude!” Paul yelled being carried across the lawn by a lively crowd, “Hillary ordered a giant, inflatable keg and a cigarette fountain. Come on!”

Hillary looked at her watch. “Take care, Bill.”

He closed his eyes. “Hillary, tell me you caged him. Just…let me know you haven’t completely gone off the deep end.”

She lit a cigarette. “I caged him Bill. And Chels is watching Maisie and Tally.”

“Good,” he said, relieved as he opened a can of Sprite.

“Fine. See you in a week.”

“A week?!” he yelped, spitting out the soda.

“A week, Bill! You think my master plan’s just gonna be implemented without me?!”

He put his hand to his chest, stunned. Right then, forty strippers walked up the drive in front of Hillary’s van. “Wait, you’re here?!”

She hung up and rolled down the window. “Bill! Sex! Now!”

His eyes grew big.


Out of Breath, Bill dismounted Hillary again. “Baby,” he cooed. “Four times? I’ve never been more satisfied. Neither has my boy.”

“Good,” she said, pushing him off her before standing. “I’m gone.”

“But Hillary!” he cried, falling out the bed while trying to detangle himself from the sheets. “Baby, please. What the fuck’s going on?”

She closed the drawer, opening another. “I’m implementing my Master Plan, and I have places to go.”

“But where?” he asked, disturbed. “And what am I gonna do with Aloysius? And why is Randal smiling so much?”

“Here,” she said, handing him instructions. “He had his target practice earlier, but he’ll need more play time by sundown. I’ve recorded my voice on this tape,” she said, handing him a cassette, “So just play it whenever he gets unsettled.”

Bill swallowed. “I don’t have a cassette player, Hillary.”

She rolled her eyes and handled him a Walkman with speakers. “Buck up, Bill.”

Chapter Text

Once Hillary left, Bill squeezed Paul’s hand as they walked through the house.

“You’re hurting my fucking hand, dude!”

“Quiet!” Bill whispered, holding the Walkman in the other. “Hillary said Aloysius only listens to her voice. We have to be cautious.”

“Well, where the fuck is he?” Paul whispered, getting nervous.

“She said he’s in the den.”

Once they entered the den, Aloysius was nowhere to be found. “Fuck,” Bill said, wiping sweat from his brow.

“Dude, you said he’d be here!”

“I’m only going by what she said!”

“She’s a fuckin’ maniac, dude! Why the fuck would you listen to her?!”

“That’s my fuckin’ wife you’re talking about!” Bill screamed, shoving Paul.

Paul shoved back, furious. “She’s insane! No one that hot should walk around wearing leather pants and a crop top!”

“You ogled her?!” Bill screamed, shoving Paul again. Losing his bearings, Paul punched Bill in the face, and the man hit the floor. He slowly wiped his bloody nose, stunned silent as he looked up at Paul.

“Fuck! I didn’t mean it, dude!”

Bill lay back down and started wailing. “I’m telling Hillary!”

“Please dude, I’m sorry!”


“Please! She’d fuckin’ kill me, man!”

“She should!”

“But you’re my best friend!”

Bill looked up, touched. “You’re my best friend, too, Paulie.” They stared at each other before bursting in tears, holding each other close. They wiped each other’s faces as they sobbed. “There’s—there’s a bear in my fucking house, son! I’ve never been more afraid!”

“It’s okay, Forty-two. I promise I won’t leave you!”

They held each other close, before continuing on their journey.


They cautiously walked downstairs, and Bill’s face was scared but determined. He glanced at the broken chair then looked at the nail marks on the walls.

“Hillary said she’d caged him!”

“Oh yeah,” Paul said, remembering. “Huma sent a text saying ‘no’.”


Paul nodded, clearing his throat to read it aloud. “Hillary says ‘no’.” He turned off his phone screen.

“Why the fuck did she say no?! He’s a wild fucking animal!”

“The lady gets what the lady wants, Forty-two,” he said, sitting on the portion of the couch that wasn’t destroyed. “Besides, having a pet bear is kinda cool, don’t you think?”

Bill spit out his Sprite. “She only got the bear to take down Betsy Devos, Paul! He’s an expert marksman! Got the metals from the U.S. Army and everything!”

“Ahhh... So that’s why she had a target range installed in the backyard. Makes sense,” Paul said, shrugging.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Bill whispered, surveying his den. He glanced down at a half-eaten copy of his autobiography and let out a deep moan once he did. “My fuckin’ Life,” he said, walking slowly through the rest of the house.


They heard a gunshot and ran to the nearest window.

“There he is!” Bill screamed, pointing to Aloysius shooting targets in the backyard. He shot another one, and Bill’s eyes grew big. “That was a perfect shot,” Bill whispered. “I’m impressed.”

Triggered, Paul fell to the floor.

“It’s okay, Paulie. I’ll make sure Aloysius won’t shoot you like James Franco did.”

Aloysius shot the gun again. “Fuck!” Paul screamed, shaking.

“Calm down,” Bill cooed, holding Paul close. “Hell, Joe shot me twice, and I’m not triggered.” Paul looked at the growing piss stain on Bill’s pants.

“We have to stop him, dude!”

Bill nodded, thinking. “We can use the Walkman,” he said, reaching into his back pocket for the cassette. “Then when he hears Hillary’s voice, he’ll go back in his cage.”

Paul nodded as Bill put the cassette in. He pressed play, but nothing happened.

Bill shook the Walkman. “She didn’t install the batteries?!” He opened the flap. “Triple A’s?! Who the hell has those sitting around the house?!”


“Fuck!” Paul screamed as Aloysius pointed the gun at the men from behind the patio door.

Bill swallowed. “Hand me the phone, Paulie. Paulie?” Paul passed out. “Shit!” Bill screamed, holding his hands in front of him. He stumbled backwards and grabbed the phone. He dialed Hillary’s number, unblinking.


“Hello?” she answered, sitting front row in a strip club.


“Hillary!” He heard the sultry music and instantly became miffed. “You’re in Newark at Sights?!”

“Yeah, so?”


“I thought you said strip clubs were trash?!”

“For you they’re trash. I quite like them, actually.”

His eyes grew big.

“What do you want, Bill? I’m enacting my Master Plan.

“Fuck your Master Plan, Hillary! Aloysius is pointing an AK-47 at me!”

She took a sip if her Rodham Rye, nonchalant. “Well, do you have the cassette?”

“Yes, but you didn’t leave any batteries in the Walkman! Are you trying to kill me, you sexy, sexy wife of mine?!” He paused. “Sorry, Hill. It’s just that music…the beautiful music.”

She sat the drink down. “Fine. Put me on speaker.”

Bill did as he was instructed and held the phone away from him.

“Am I on speaker, Bill?!”


She cleared her throat. “Hi Aloysius,” she said, and the bear immediately lowered the gun.

“It’s fuckin’ working,” Bill said, amazed.

“I know you don’t want to end target practice so quickly, but it’s almost sundown. Time to come inside.”

Bill’s eyes grew big. “Hillary!”

“So, put your gun back in the case, and slowly open the door, Aloysius.”

“Baby,” Bill yelped, watching Aloysius do as he was instructed. “Seriously, Hill…He’s…Hillary!”

“That’s a good boy,” Hillary cooed, causing Aloysius to tap on the door. “Now, slide the door open…”

“Fuck!” Bill yelped, sliding Paul out the way.

“Calm down, Bill. He’s harmless.”

“Harmless?! He’s flicking me off, Hillary! And he’s still holding that fucking gun!”

“Aloysius,” she cooed, and the bear paused. “Put the gun back in the case before you come inside.”

The bear nodded, following her instructions.

“Good. Now, once you open the door, I want you to maul Bill.”

“What?!” Bill screamed, terrified.

“That’s right,” she cooed. “Walk up to Bill, and rip him to shreds.”

“But, Hillary!” he yelped.

“You really thought you’d get away with coming to Sights, Bill? As soon as I walked in, Lisa told me all about it. Just because it’s out of state doesn’t mean you have permission.”

Paul’s eyes fluttered open, and he spotted Aloysius. “Shit!


“Fuck!” Paul screamed, patting himself down for his phone. “We have to call Monkey!”

Bill looked down at him. “Mon… Who the fuck is Monkey?!”

“My fucking body guard, dude! Haven’t you noticed the monkey that’s been following us around all day?” he asked, pointing to Monkey. “He carries a fucking dart gun for situations like this.”


“I don’t believe in bullets anymore, Forty-two. After Franco shot me, we have to pass some serious gun control laws. I mean, if it weren’t for that vest, I’d be dead.”

Bill nodded. “It’s true, Paulie. Thank God for Sharper Image. You know they have a Memorial Day sale this weekend? I can get a new popcorn machine and a UL Certified Hover Board for 40% off with promo code: FUCKTRUMP.”


“Fuck!” Bill screamed as Monkey ran to the door cocking his dart gun.

“Shoot, Monkey!” Paul screamed, peeing all over himself.

Monkey shot the dart, and Aloysius immediately passed out. So did Bill.

“Bill?” Hillary said. She shrugged and hung up.

Chapter Text

Hillary stood in the kitchen drinking a glass of water while looking out the window. She noticed that the on light in the shed and rolled her eyes.


Bill’s eyes fluttered open, and he surveyed his surroundings. He hiccupped again, dreading the feeling. “Fuck!” he yelped, groggy. “I can’t have a finger shoved up my ass while I’m lucid. That’d be worse than those f—ucking colonoscopies.”


He looked up. “Hillary?” He slowly got off the floor, dusting off his clothes. As he placed his hand on the knob, he glanced at the topless posters hung on the walls. “Uh…need something, baby?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’ve been in there for hours. Even I know you can’t last that long.”

He scanned the room. “Uh…one m—oment,” he said, hanging a sheet over the wall. He wiped his face before opening the door. “Baby.”

She stepped inside, eyeing the space. “I see Paul set you up well.” He nodded, and she looked at his hair. “I thought you wore the wig when you were in here?”

Bill sat. “Paul threw Ronald out. Said something about it smelling like bulgogi.”

She winced, and he waved her toward him. She sat on his lap and kissed his forehead. “I have to admit, you appear much more decent than I expected.”

“Because I didn’t do any—thing, Hill—ary.”

“Oh baby,” she cooed. “You have the hiccups? You hate the hiccups.”

“I know!” he yelped, teary-eyed. “And I read in my vintage copy of The American Journal of Medicine that the only way to get rid of them is to get a fin—ger shoved up my ass. I can’t handle that, Hillary. It’s enough you grab my ch—eeks whenever we’re in public.”

She smiled. “I like your ass, Bill. What do you expect from me?”

He smiled. “I love yours. Makes life worth living.” He held her close and gently kissed her lips.

“I finished my errands.”

His eyes grew big. “Aloysius!”


He swallowed. “The bear that’s trained to kill Betsy Devos.”

She laughed. “I was just joking, Bill. And why are you calling him Aloysius?”

He took a deep breath, realizing he’d had a dream. “Fuck,” he said lifting his balloon tied wrist. “I told Paul they trigger me.”

She quirked an eyebrow.

“I had a dream that you went fucking crazy, baby. You were walking around wearing a crop top and leather pants.”

“God, Bill.”

“And smoking. Cigarettes and pot. And you had your own reality show, too. But all you did on it was smoke pot while wearing a dick hat.”

She closed her eyes. “You really need to get your dreams under control, Bill.”

“It was all a part of your Master Plan. Everything—right down to the house party, and the strippers, and the bear. He was an expert marksman, trained in Alaska.”

She shook her head, kissing his lips. “While I appreciate your suggestions, I have my Master Plan under control.”

“So, you’re not trying to kill Betsy Devos?”

She shook her head. “Just Joe.”

His eyes grew big. “Did you do it, baby? Is he finally out of our lives?”

“Well, Randal and I picked up Larry and Maxine before…”


Earlier that day

They stood in the hospital hallway communicating through glances. Larry nodded at Maxine, and Maxine nodded at Hillary. The three locked eyes, each placing their hands in the center. “One, two, three. ‘We’ve got to stop his ass!’”

Hillary kicked open the door as Larry and Maxine trailed her with buckets of ice water. She grabbed the remote before nodding, and they splashed a peacefully sleeping Joe in the face. “Waterboarding!” he screamed. He opened his hazy eyes as the silhouette of Hillary cleared in his vision. “Hilton? Baby, what a sight for sore eyes that are freezing off my fucking face!”

“Why’d you say it, Joe?” He looked around, stunned.

“Larry,” he said, chuckling nervously. “Shit, haven’t seen you since we played strip poker with Falwell. That fat fuck’s in hell. Am I right?” Larry grinned, and Joe turned to Maxine. “Max,” he said as she crossed her arms. “Cursed O’Reilly to hell. Good job on that. Fucker only eats American cheese.”

“Enough!” Hillary screamed, startling him. “Why did you say it, Joe?”

“It’s no big deal, Hil…” She grabbed his balls and squeezed. “Fuck!”

“Tell me!”

“Alright, alright!” he wheezed. She let go and he burst into tears. “Good job, Hill. There goes Junior and Robinette. Now who will make you a mother?”

“Say it!”

“Okay!” He swallowed as best as he could since his jaw was wired shut. “Even though the fuckin’ Chinese have Ol’ Joe lying around the hospital sexing up the place, they still wanted their fucking money.” She nodded, listening. “And since Bill refused to loan me the money—and what a cheap bastard he is! Fuck, you could do so much better, Hill! Mmmp! Damn. I’d rub that sexy ass so good, you’d forget your name. Then I’d call you Jackie—no, no—Shavonne—yes, you love the fuckin’ name, right?” Larry and Maxine looked at each other before turning back to him. “Shavonne Biden. You and Jill could be sister wives.”

She grabbed his sack again, digging her nails into the skin. “Shit!”

“Continue with your story, Joe.”

“It was Sanders!” he mustered, “That rich, old bastard fronted me the money, but I had to say I would’ve been the better candidate. You’d think that old fuck would just accept that you’re a star, but I guess that’s hard for an old man who’s ballsack swings like a dusty pendulum when he walks. That’s why he wears such baggy suits.” Hillary winced. “Guys like Sanders make up at least 97% of my canasta club. It’s a real sausage fest, but being the inclusive politician that I am, I suggested that we add a few ‘peaches’ to the group—for the fiber.” She rolled her eyes. “But noooo they said. Meat only. It’s enough to give someone a heart attack, am I right?”

She let him go. “Sanders,” she whispered, adding his name to her list. “Was it really worth it, Joe?”

He was stunned. “Look at me! I’m in a full fucking body cast! Of course it was fucking worth it, you sexy, sexy minx.” He reached out his fingers, trying desperately to make contact with her. “Fuck! What did Bill do to convince you he was worth it? One look at those long, beautiful fingers, and you just couldn’t say no, huh? Why didn’t you listen to Nancy Reagan?!”

“Thanks, Joe,” Hillary said, ready to modify her plan. She placed the remote next to the door. “See you soon.”

“But Hill!” he screamed, watching as the team left the room. “Fuck!” he yelled noticing the remote was too far to reach.


Grasping her ass, Bill nodded. “Did you tell him the magic I can do with these hands?” he drawled, arousing her as he finagled them into her pants.

“I didn’t,” she whispered.

“Mmm…” he moaned. “If it weren’t for these hands,” he said, kissing her neck, “That ass wouldn’t be nearly as round.”

“God, Bill.”

“It’s true, Hilly. But I give my boy credit for its succulence, and it’ll only get bigger once the twins start growing.”

“That’s enough.” She stood.

“But Hillary,” he said, following her out the door. “According to The American Journal of Medicine, it’s normal to gain nearly thirty pounds during a healthy pregnancy. And with the twins, I’m sure sixty is plausible. Mmmp, an even bigger ass! I’d die from the excitement, baby. But you have to promise me you won’t let Joe raise the boys as his own. Better yet, I’ll make sure to murder him before the birth.”

“No, Bill.”

“Fine,” he said, still following her. “I’ll accept thirty pounds, but you’ll have to split some between Oprah and Gayle. The children need nourishment.”

She smirked. “Keep digging that hole, Bill.”

“But baby,” he said, following her into the house, “It’s the only milk I can drink. May not be vegan, but I dare Dr. Hyman to cut it from my diet!”

“You’re making me want to order—Aloysius, was it?”

He grinned.

“Let’s put those beautiful hands to work.”

He grinned slyly.

“And no more talking, Bill. You’ve exasperated me.”

“I’ll let my hands do the talking,” he drawled, chasing her to the bedroom.