Bill paused and turned around. They all stared at him, waiting for him to speak. “You’ve betrayed me, Paul.”
Paul’s eyes grew big.
“You know better than anyone that I fucking hate Secret Service agents.” Bill nodded, fist clenched. “We’re done,” he said, walking up the steps.
“Dude?!” Paul yelled, running after the man. “Forty-two!” Paul screamed, heartbroken.
Paul slammed his fist to the banister.
“Dammit, Forty-two, you’ve gotta say something!”
Unaffected, Bill kept walking.
“For fuck’s sake, I gave up Stouffers and lost my boob privileges for you! I got twelve speeding tickets in the past two days because Thelma and Louise are gone, and the officers don’t stare at my nipples anymore, and—!”
“Gotcha!” Bill said, grinning as he swung around.
“Congratulations, Paulie! I’ve never been prouder!” He hugged Paul close and furrowed his brow. “Wow, there’s a huge difference without your boobs being between us. I don’t feel the need to protect you like a daughter anymore.” Bill squeezed Paul tighter. “Make sure to return that chastity bra, son. Can you believe it?! I’ve finally raised an agent from the ground up, like a farmer!”
“Forty-two,” Paul wheezed, being hugged too tight, “you’re not mad at me?”
“For what, son?!”
“You just said you hate agents!”
“But I’m an agent now!”
“Who was trained under my employ!” Bill looked down, so proud. “When you told me you were studying how to fuck speedboats, I knew something was up. After all, what kind of speedboat captain is allergic to salt water and refuses to go topless?”
Thinking back, Paul nodded.
“Now we can go on all kinds of missions together without some fucker secretly trailing us. I think a celebratory trip to Hershey Park is in our future, son.”
“Hershey Park?!” Paul yelped, clasping his hands together. “That’s the most decadent theme park ever, dude! I heard all the rides are made from stone-ground cacao and cane sugar making them 100% edible! It’s a chocolate lover’s dream!” Paul furrowed his brow. “But you hate chocolate.”
“That’s true, Paulie, but for you, I’ll choke down a few pounds as long as it’s made with milk.”
“But what about your dairy allergy?!”
“I’m sure I grew out of it, Paulie!”
Out of breath that night, Bill dismounted Hillary.
“Damn, baby, first the studio and now the shed?! It’s a dream come true.” He kissed her crown, lips lingering. “My dick hasn’t been this happy since noon.”
Glancing at the Ass poster, Hillary took a breath before rolling her eyes. “Make sure to cross the shed off your bucket list, Billy.”
“And add the White House lawn.” Bill’s eyes grew big, and Hillary shrugged. “We’ve gotta fuck somewhere while our bed’s being replaced.”
Thrilled, Bill squeezed his eyes closed. “Hill?”
Bill looked down. “Losing Barbara’s got me thinking. What would you do if I died?”
Nearly blinded by the spinning disco ball, she squinted as she looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he said, thinking deeply, “do you think you’ll do okay without me? I know how much you like sausage, so it’s implausible for you to go vegan.” He took a deep breath. “But I’ve always been a fan of pie, and if you ever try some, I’m sure you would be too.”
“I’m serious, Hillary! We’re getting up in age, and we need to discuss my preferred choice of your elderly lesbianism!”
“I have ways to get my needs met,” she said, yawning and cuddling closer.
Worried, Bill squinted. “What ways?”
“What ways, Hillary?! Is there another fucker out there?! Is that why you let Joe move in?!”
Exasperated, she licked her lips. “Here,” she said, handing him a receipt. “I’ll be fine.”
Bill’s eyes grew big. “You bought the award-winning, state-of-the-art Sharper Image Air Wisp Clit Stimulator, Hillary?!” He quickly reached to his table and snatched the brochure. “’Produces Multiple Orgasms on Demand’?! For fuck’s sake, that’s been my job for nearly fifty years! What kind of president, intent on stimulating the economy, would put a 71-year-old man out of work in the only field he knows?!”
“Enough! Both of us are alive, and there’s no need to discuss this!”
Miffed, he ran his fingers through her hair, eyes focused on the golden strands. “Promise me you won’t fuck Joe,” he mumbled.
“Promise me!” Bill demanded, getting serious. “I’ll be able to rest in peace as long as that fucker doesn’t have a shot with you.”
“I promise,” Hillary said, tickled by Bill’s logic. “And you can forget about me ever tasting pie. I don’t care how many teenage girls throw themselves at me.”
Bill grinned. “You’re a sex symbol, Hill. The Queen of Boners, especially lady boners.”
“It’s true,” he said, proud of the fact. “And I’m the only one who gets to fuck you. My God, what have I done to be so lucky?”
“You married me.”
“And you have good taste.”
Bill looked down. “I’ve always been an ice cream connoisseur. Nearly fifty years of butter pecan, and I’ve yet to suffer brain freeze.”
“Extra creamy and hand churned,” he drawled, wiggling his fingers and he kissed her lips. “Fuck, I wouldn’t mind having some right now,” he said, holding his stomach.
Flattered, Hillary took a breath. “I wouldn’t mind feeding you, either.”
Bill’s eyes grew big.
“But that stimulator’s been pretty spectacular,” she said, trying to get a rise out of him. “I hope your tongue can keep up.”
“Fuck that whistling bastard, Hillary!” he screamed, rushing to his knees.
Several Days Later
Yawning, Paul took a bowl from the cabinet before grabbing the Honey Nut Cheerios box. Nonchalant, Bill slapped it out of his hand.
“What the fuck, dude?!”
“You’re a real agent now, Paulie! You don’t need to make me breakfast!”
Paul furrowed his brow. “I’ve poured your cereal for ten years, Forty-two. I don’t think you can handle your own cooking.”
“Bullshit,” Bill said, snatching the bowl and sitting at the table. He over-poured the cereal. “Shit,” he said, scooping it up. “Just need to practice.”
“Son,” Bill said, under-pouring the milk and spilling half, “I figure we can head to the theme park later this afternoon. I ate a ton of ice cream last night, so Hillary won’t suspect a thing if we eat a shit-load of McDonalds before visiting the local titty bar.”
Paul’s eyes grew big.
Struck by the difference in taste, Bill furrowed his brow. “Damn, you certainly cook this better.”
“Let me make you another bowl, Forty-two.”
“No!” Bill yelped, scarfing down more cereal. “How many seventy-one year old men do you know who have their original teeth? I can handle it!”
Concerned, Paul furrowed his brow. “Fine. I’ll just finish sewing your giant pockets, dude.”
“No need,” Bill mumbled, lifting his hand. “I had my new guy do it.”
“What new guy?!”
Bill pointed to Ralph. “Your cousin got that handled a few weeks back. He made me pockets that are bigger than my pants.”
“What the fuck’s he doing here, dude?! I thought he went back to practicing obstetrics in Jakarta!”
“I need an assistant, Paulie!”
“Why didn’t he pour your cereal then?!”
“Because Ralph’s still in training!” he yelped, pointing to the man as he practiced how to pour cereal. “These things take time.”
“He’s a fucking moron, Forty-two!”
“Quiet!” Bill yelled, taking another, ragged bite. “You’re an agent now, son. Our relationship has changed.”
Paul’s eyes grew big.
“Now go on,” Bill said, shooing Paul off. “Look out for Deplorables™ trying to bust a cap in my Sweet, Sweet Ass™. It’s your job to protect it so my insurance rates won’t go up!” He took another bite and coughed. “Ralph’s gonna practice giving me vitamins.”
“But you’ll kill him, Forty-two!”
“I said he’s gonna practice!” Bill said, slamming his fist to the table. “I figured you’d understand the training process after abandoning me for 18 weeks!”
Paul closed his eyes. “Fucking fine, dude, but if your Vitamin D level gets any lower, I’m gonna be the one to give you the Centrum Silvers!”
“Fuck a Vitamin D deficiency, Paulie! My dick’s big enough as it is!”
Exasperated, Paul left the room.
Bill took another bite and coughed more. “Ralph, I know you don’t speak any English, but you’re gonna have to get the breakfast recipe from Paul. He can translate it for you.”
Not understanding, Ralph shrugged while shortening Bill’s pants.
Bill took another bite, and without the proper proportion of milk to cereal, it scratched his throat. “Fuck!”
Ralph looked up.
Shaking, Bill took another bite and turned blue. “I’m…I’m dying!” His eyes grew big. “Ralph…call…for…help!”
Without expression, Ralph ran off in a panic.
“Paulie!” Bill yelped, struggling to take a final bite. “Paulie!” he screamed, eyes fading to black.
Waking up under a strikingly, bright light, Bill struggled to open his eyes.
“Paulie!” he called, throat still sore, “I need one of those pussy-flavored lozenges you keep in my travel bag!”
Bill cleared his throat and scanned himself up and down. “A white, three-piece suit? I look like I work at a fucking carnival!” As his eyes adjusted, he spotted the pearly gates.
“Heaven?” He meandered, blown away. “I’m fucking dead?!” As his eyes darted around the space, he noticed the gigantic angels flying in the distance. “I’m gonna kill Ralph!”
Walking along the marble floors, he spotted the Lambs Book of Life. He opened it and carefully searched for his name. “William Jefferson Clinton, the 42nd President of the United States of America,” he read, proud of himself. Thinking, he furrowed his brow. “I wonder if that fucker Jimmy’s in here,” he mumbled, quickly flipping the pages.
“And that’s what happened when I convinced George that he was the greatest president who’s ever lived. It didn’t matter that he never got his competence glow,” Bill heard afar off.
Stunned, he swallowed. “Mombra?!”
Barbara Bush rolled her eyes. “Hello…‘Not George’.”
“Mombra, I can’t believe you died! I swear you and Forty-one were just planning to have another child.”
“We were,” she said, sitting on a bench made of gold, “but that damned aging process!”
Bill nodded, understanding.
“Bill, I’m glad you’re here. I forgot to tell George something, and it’s your job to get him the message.”
“Dammit!” he yelped, shooing away the cherubs flying around his head and poking his face. “I can’t help, Barbara! I’m dead!”
“No!” he exclaimed, overwhelmed by the thought. “I had so much left to do! So much to live for! For fuck’s sake, I didn’t even fuck Hillary on the White House lawn!”
“Shit!” he said, face in his hands. “I never took Paulie to Hershey Park either! Now how will he know what rollercoasters taste like?!” Teary, he took a breath. “I never even got more ass time with Hillary, and she was extra succulent this morning!”
“Bill!” she yelped, suddenly strangling him as she floated.
“Shut up, you talkative child! I have something to reveal!”
“Okay!” Bill yelped, and Barbara let him go.
“Wow,” she giggled, surprised by her strength, “this is certainly a death perk.”
“My fucking neck!” Bill yelped, holding his neck. Realizing that he felt pain, Bill’s eyes grew big. “Wait a minute! According to Revelation 21:4, there’s no pain in heaven!” He looked down. “Paul read that to me when I was inconsolable after stubbing my toe.” He furrowed his brow. “Unless he was lying to make me take that aspirin,” he mumbled.
“It’s because you’re not dead!”
Barbara closed her eyes. “This is your near death experience, Bill. You’re alive.”
“I’m…” he swallowed. “I’m alive?”
“Yes, but you almost choked to death on that damned children’s cereal!”
“The fucking Honey Nut Cheerios?! Mother fucker!” He shook his head, amazed by the turn of events. “Paulie should’ve made my breakfast! The kid’s a fucking chef!”
“Silence!” she screamed, squeezing his arm.
“Now listen! When you go back to Earth, tell George that he needs to find someone new!”
Bill’s eyes grew big.
“He’s been the king of Barbara’s bush for 73 years, and it’s about time he’s gotten some strange.”
Agreeing, Bill quirked his eyebrows.
“Just tell him to stay away from hillbillies,” she said, so disgusted. “I’d die if he banged some drunk hussy from a West Virginia holler.”
“But you’re already dead.”
Barbara looked at her white robe and giggled again. “You’re right.” One of the cherubs flew to Barbara, and she cradled it like a baby. “You may want to find someone new for Hillary, too. With the way you swallow, you’re bound to come here first.”
“Fuck!” Bill yelped, squatting into a ball.
“Now head back,” she said, shooing him towards the dim light. “Me and the others have a poker tournament in ten minutes.”
Barbara turned around, and suddenly, Eleanor Roosevelt, Lady Bird Johnson, Nancy Reagan, and Socks the Cat all waved.
“Socks?!” Bill said, amazed.
“Meow,” Socks nonchalantly meowed.
“Now go!” Barbara said, pushing him into the dim light.
“Socks!” Bill yelped, totally blown away, “I found that shit you took in my presidential slippers! It was huge, son! I’d never been so proud!”
Exasperated, Barbara shoved Bill through the light.
She dusted off her gown. “Presidents,” she scoffed.
Laid out flat on the kitchen floor, Bill looked dead.
“Give him some air!” Paul yelled, making the other agents stand back. He gave Bill mouth to mouth, nearly gagging as he did. “Fucking almond milk!”
“Shit!” Bill yelped, shooting up.
“Forty-two!” Paul cooed, holding the man close. “We almost lost you!”
Looking around, Bill swallowed and winced at Randal. “Fucker!”
“I just…I just needed to see if I was really alive, son.” He held Paul’s hand. “Heaven was strikingly beautiful, like the finest of asses.”
Paul nodded as Joe peaked in, grinning at the scene. When he saw a determined Hillary Astrid crawling towards him, he quickly ran off.
“Paulie?” Bill whispered, hand on Paul’s collar.
Bill closed his eyes, so relieved to be alive. “I…I need your help, son.” Bill swallowed again, amazed by what he’d experienced. “We have to find Hillary a husband.”
Paul spit out his Sprite. “What are you talking about, dude?! You’re already married!”
“Listen,” Bill whispered, yanking Paul close. “I won’t be around forever, and Hillary deserves to get some strange.” Paul’s eyes grew big. “The least I can do is—is—is pick my fucking replacement.”
Amazed, Paul looked down. “If you think it would be best, Forty-two.”
“I do,” Bill wheezed, holding his chest. “And you have to help me, Paulie. I need your expertise on what it takes to be a good bang, but a slightly less good bang than I am. I wouldn’t want Hillary forgetting my motion.”
“And how would I know that shit, Forty-two?!”
“You’ll use intuition!” Bill yelped, still hoarse. “I’ll put together some questions, and we’ll conduct some interviews tonight.”
Randal rolled his eyes, and Paul stroked Bill’s hair.
Bill closed his eyes. “You need to make my breakfast until I die.”
“You got it, Forty-two.”
“And no more Honey Nut Cheerios,” Bill said, eyes bloodshot. “Barbara said that’s a children’s cereal, so I’m switching to Fruity Pebbles. It’s basically artificial flavors and colorings, so I’m sure it’ll be better for my digestive health.”
Having happily averted Hillary Astrid’s wrath, Joe casually walked into the Oval while eating Flaming Hot Cheetos. He wiped his hand down the wall before licking his fingers. “Hilton, I don’t know what’s hotter between these Cheetos and you!” he yelped, nearly gagging.
Looking around at her Joint Chiefs of Staff, Hillary turned to Joe and clenched her jaw. “Leave.”
“Hold on, sugar cakes, I come with news.” For dramatic effect, he bowed his head and slammed the Cheetos to the floor.
“Hilton,” he said, grabbing her hand, “Bill just died.”
“Almost,” he said, giggling. “I told the fucker he has to chew his food. Everything isn’t pussy, you know?”
“Out,” she demanded, pushing him to the door.
“The fucker was fucking revived, Hillpot! And you were so close to finally getting to experience the The Biden. I heard those fuckers were planning to go to Hershey Park, and I’ll be damned if I don’t get to taste the Ferris Wheel!
She immediately squeezed his throat.
“Hilton!” he screeched, turning red, “I ate too many of those spicy shits, and the bloods not rushing to my cock!”
“Enough!” she said, nearly panicked. “Where’s Bill?”
“In the residence.”
“Is Paul with him?” she asked, rushing to the elevator.
Joe ran in front of her and blocked the lift. “Before you go up, I feel I should warn you.”
She licked her lips.
Joe looked down, so serious. “You should know that…I’m way too sexy for my shirt.”
“Shit!” Joe screamed, holding his cheek. “You know my dental history, Hillsex! What man in his 70s still has all his original teeth besides that fucker Bill?!”
Hillary rushed into the elevator with Kurt in tow.
Lying in bed with a cloth on his forehead, Bill carefully sipped warm, almond milk.
“How is it, Forty-two?” Paul asked, stroking his face.
Bill swallowed, still hoarse. “Warm and wet.” Weak, he sat up. “Like pussy, Paulie.”
“Bill?” Hillary cooed, rushing into the room. “Oh my God. Joe told me what happened,” she said, holding him close. “Are you alright?”
Bill nodded, face sandwiched between her breasts. “I…I saw the other side, Hill.”
She covered her mouth.
“Everything glowed, and my name was written in the Lambs Book of Life. Unfortunately, so was Jimmy’s.”
Hillary rolled her eyes.
“And I saw—“ he said, suddenly taking her nipple into his mouth.
“God!” Paul yelped.
“Saw what, honey?” she cooed.
Not wanting her to know about Barbara, Bill shook his head. “Cherubs,” he mumbled.
Confused, Paul furrowed his brow.
Bill nodded, looking so pitiful. “They’re extra fat babies, Hill. Definitely breastfed.”
She held him close, so happy he was okay. “I’ll cancel the rest of my meetings,” she said, stroking his face as he suckled. “And we can spend the day in bed.”
Bill’s eyes grew big. “No,” he said, panicked as he pulled away. “Don’t cancel anything.”
Hillary was stunned. “Are you sure?”
Bill locked eyes with Paul. “Positive, Hill. They say you’re the greatest president who’s ever lived, and uh, I’m not gonna fuck with your legacy.”
Confused, Hillary nodded and kissed his lips. “If you need anything,” she said, turning from Bill to Paul, “call me.”
“Will do, Hillary Senior.”
She nodded again before leaving the room. Bill closed his eyes.
Bill opened his eyes.
“Why didn’t you tell President Rodham about seeing Barbara Bush?”
“She wouldn’t’ve been able to handle it, Paulie!”
“You gave up a whole day of sex because of it, dude! What the fuck happened when you saw her?!”
Bill took a breath. “Barbara told me that I’m definitely gonna die before Hill.”
“You’ve always known that!”
“Quiet!” he yelped, coughing afterwards. He swallowed. “She told me to find Hill a second husband. I already had the idea in my head, but after seeing Barbara’s strangely powerful ghost, I don’t have an option!”
Paul closed his eyes. “Dude, I’m a scientist. You were having hallucinations.”
“I wasn’t, Paulie!”
“You were, dude! All your fears rushed to your head once you got to heaven. Barbara only said what you were already thinking.”
“That’s bullshit, Paulie! Barbara Bush told me to find someone for Hillary, and by God, I will!” he said, struggling to sit up. He grabbed the phone.
Bill dialed the number.
“What are you doing, Forty-two?!”
“Al?” Bill said.
“Al fucking Gore?!” Paul yelped, stunned.
Bill closed his eyes. “Yes, Al.” He rolled his eyes. “This fucking phone is solar powered, Al,” Bill said, shaking his head.
Tired from a long day in meetings, Hillary headed to the residence. As she did, she was stunned by the long line of people entering the Blue Room. “Al?” she asked, surprised to see him. “What’re you doing here?”
“Bill’s asked us to come,” he drawled, monotone.
She winced. “Why?”
Inside the Blue Room, Bill sat in a wheelchair as Paul stood next to him, dressed like an elf.
“Why the fuck did I have to wear this, dude?!”
“This setup reminds me of meeting Santa!” he said, wearing a Christmas hat. Coughing, he rubbed his throat and looked to the ceiling. “Alright, Barbara. I’m doing it.”
Against his will, an exasperated Kurt brought Al in.
“Mr. President,” Al drawled.
The two stared each other down. “There’re still no solar panels on the White House roof, but I guess that’s because certain people like to fly off of it.”
Bill clenched his jaw, motioning for Al to sit. “I only have a few questions for you,” Bill said, straightening his papers.
Bill nodded. “How long have you been single?”
“And the last time you ate ice cream?”
“I don’t know, Bill. You know I’ve never been a fan of dairy.”
Bill and Paul locked eyes, and Paul crossed Al’s name off the list.
Too tired to care what Bill was up to, Hillary took the Sharper Image Air Wisp Clit Stimulator out of the side drawer.
“Gosh,” she whispered, feeling guilty. “The least I could do is let Bill handle this, especially since he almost died.” She thought back to Bill before looking back at the machine. “Hell, he won’t mind,” she said, flicking it on.
“Ahh!” Joe yelped afar off.
“Joe?!” Hillary screamed, running towards the sound.
When she entered the residence kitchen, she found—
“Hilton!” he yelped, being strangled by Hillary Astrid.
“What did you do to her?!” Hillary screamed, peeling the baby off of him.
Joe took a breath, coughing as Hillary cuddled the baby. “Her name wasn’t on that baby food!”
“Really, Joe? We told you not to—”
“Oh, thank God,” Huma said, walking towards Hillary. “One minute she was playing with matches in my office, and then…” she said, moving her hands in a darting off motion. “And Bill’s downstairs interviewing people to be your second husband.”
“What?” Hillary said.
“What?!” Joe yelled.
“Yeah,” Huma said, kissing Hillary Astrid. “Paulie said Bill made a shortlist after that near death experience.”
“Gosh,” Hillary said, shaking her head, “and he thought I’d be willing to fuck Al?”
Still determined to destroy him, Hillary Astrid squinted at Joe.
“Keep that clever, little killer locked up before I call the cops!”
Incensed, Huma set Hillary Astrid down and handed her a lighter. “Get him.”
“Shit!” Joe yelped, running from the room.
Still sitting in the Blue Room, Bill yawned, unimpressed with the options so far.
“I can’t believe this, Paulie. Ten interviews and no one’s even close to becoming Hillary’s replacement sex slave!”
“Hard times, Forty-two,” Paul said, unlit cigarette hanging from his lips. “Maybe Hillary’s bound to be single after you die? She could basically bang anyone she wants, dude.”
“I need to narrow her options!”
“Sir,” Kurt said, still exasperated, “are you ready for the next suit—“
“Next!” Bill yelled, miffed.
Suddenly, George Bush Sr. rolled in.
Paul’s eyes grew big.
“Have a seat.”
George stared at him.
“Oh, right,” Bill said, glancing at the man’s wheelchair. “Forty-one, I asked you here for two reasons.”
“Lay ‘em on me,” the old man said, gritting his teeth at Paul.
Bill nodded. “As you know, I’ve called everyone here because I nearly died this morning after choking on an undercooked bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios.”
“A children’s cereal.”
Paul’s eyes grew big.
“Forty-one,” Bill said, grabbing the old man’s hand. “I saw Barbara.” George’s mouth dropped. “She was in heaven, playing poker with the other First Ladies…and Socks.”
Bill nodded. “She wanted me to give you a message.” Paul leaned close, listening in. “She wants you to finally get some strange.”
George’s eyes grew big.
“She said you have unlimited options outside of banging a hussy from a West Virginia holler. Classic Barbara. She still has standards.”
“My…my Barbara?” Forty-one asked, nearly teary.
Bill nodded. “She’s strong as shit now, too. Choked me so hard that I nearly died while already dead.”
Amazed, George looked down. “She’s always had an iron grip.” He wiped away a tear. “What was your second reason, Bill?”
Bill took a breath. “Forty-one, you’re on my short list to marry Hillary in the event of my untimely death.”
“What?!” Paul yelped, spitting out the cigarette. He picked up a Sprite, took a sip, and spit that out, too. “He’s a hundred years older than you, Forty-two!”
“Exactly!” Bill said, looking pissed. “He’s the oldest living president in history! For fuck’s sake, he fought in the American Revolution!” Bill put on his glasses and took out his notebook. “Forty-one, when’s the last time you ate ice cream?”
Bill and Paul locked eyes, and Bill swallowed. “How would you define ‘ass time’?”
“When a man’s face is buried in the sweet succulence of a woman’s ass. A little slice of heaven in this sea of hell.”
Bill and Paul’s eyes grew big.
“Forty-one,” Bill asked, amazed as he took off his glasses, “would you be willing to become a two-term president?”
“I’m one-hundred and forty-one years old, Bill!”
“Hillary can’t marry a one-term president!”
“Dude,” Paul whispered, rolling Bill to the side, “this is your big chance!”
“To get Hillary someone who’s slightly less good at banging her than you are. He was a president, but only for one term. He loves ice cream, but I’m pretty sure he was talking about the dessert. Plus, there’s no way he can beat you in motion.”
The men looked back at George.
“You’re right, son. Add him to the top three.”
“Bill!” Joe yelped, running into the room. “Buddy, I…I have to get on that shortlist before Hillary Junior sets my ass on fire!”
“She’s playing with matches again?!” Paul yelped, terrified.
“Who the fuck told you about the shortlist?!” Bill yelled, too feeble to attack him.
Joe grinned. “Can’t get up to choke me, fucker? Figures,” he said, rolling his eyes while stroking George’s hair. “Like the late, great Ann Richards said, ‘if you give me a chance, I can…perform,’” he quoted, gyrating.
“Dude,” Paul whispered, pulling Bill further to the side, “the only people you have in the top three are Forty-one, your ghost, and Meryl Streep.”
“She’ll protect her!”
“Don’t you think you should give him a chance?” Paul asked as the men looked back at Joe. “Hillary’s tough enough to kill him if he goes too far, he’s two inches shorter than you, and he’ll never be a president.”
Thinking deeply, Bill looked down. “But Joe?” Bill whispered, still incensed. “He’s wanted to fuck her since the Governor’s Luncheon of 1980! If I give him a chance—” Bill paused, having an epiphany. “If I give him a chance, maybe he won’t want her anymore?”
Paul nodded. “He lost interest in your Playboys as soon as you let him read one.” Bill nodded, and the two went back to the table.
“Have a seat, Joe.”
“Gladly,” Joe said, sitting on George’s lap.
Bill rolled his eyes and put on his glasses. “Joe?”
“Hillary’s first husband?”
Bill clenched his jaw. “How long have you been single?”
“Never,” Joe said, leaning back and eating nuts. “Been married all my life.”
“That’s impossible!” Bill yelled.
“Prove it!” Joe said, slamming his fist to the table.
Paul rubbed Bill’s shoulders. “You can do this, dude.”
Bill nodded. “Joe,” he said, through gritted teeth, “when’s the last time you ate…ice cream?”
“Does right now count?” he asked, holding up the suddenly appearing ice cream cone. “Or do you mean pussy?! Because last I checked, Maxine hasn’t stopped smiling since I ate her out after we tortured Giuliani!”
Bill took a steady breath, mouth ajar. “H—how would you, uhm…? How would you define ‘ass time’?”
Joe leaned back, wrapping his arm around George’s shoulder. “This face,” he said, pointing to his own face, “enveloped between Hillary’s Sweet, Sweet Ass™.” He reached into his pocket and handed Bill a dollar. “For trademark royalties.”
“Fine!” Bill yelled, hoping Joe would slip up, “what’s the best place in the world?!”
“My head between Hillary’s thighs!”
Bill gasped. “How does she like her coffee?!”
“Picked up by her lover at any local Starbucks location!”
Bill stood and slammed his fists to the table. “Do you have any plans to be a two-term president?!”
“Hell yeah!” Joe said, standing and pushing George across the room with all his might.
“Ol’ Joe’s not descending to hell until all you fuckers go first! I’m meant to be Hillary’s second husband, and you fucking know it, bitch!”
“Fuck!” Bill screamed, enraged, “I can’t believe it, Paulie!”
“Calm down, dude!”
“No!” he yelped, pacing and sweating. “He passed the test with flying fucking colors! He’s my rightful fucking heir!”
“That’s right!” Joe said, tussling with Bill. “Give—me—your—fucking—ring!”
“I’m—still—alive!” Bill stammered, choking the man.
“Fuck!” Bill screamed, darting off.
Out of breath, Bill refused to dismount—
“Bill!” Hillary called, watching as he stood atop the shed, “enough of this!”
“But he’s perfect for you, Hillary! He said Maxine still hasn’t stopped smiling after eating her out weeks ago!”
Intrigued, Hillary quirked her eyebrows.
“I’m staying up here until I get a vision!”
“From who, Bill?!”
“From Barbara!” Bill said, wiping his eyes. “She started this shit, and she’s gonna have to end it!”
“Dude!” Paul yelped, running to the lawn, “what the fuck?!”
“You saw what happened, Paulie!”
“But you’re still alive, dude, just like that fucking song!”
“The song is different, Paulie!”
Hillary turned to Paul and snatched his collar.
“You have one minute to get him down or else!”
Terrified, Paul quickly nodded. “Uh, Forty-two?!”
Paul looked down. “Let’s uh…let’s head to that new titty bar outside of the city! We can swing by McDonald’s first!”
Hillary’s eyes grew big, as did Bill’s. “You’re fucking with me, Paulie!”
Hillary squeezed Paul tighter.
“I’m not, dude! Fuck! We can get some McFlurries, too! And some weed!”
Bill furrowed his brow. “But you said I couldn’t handle weed, Paulie.”
“I was wrong!” Paul yelped as Hillary held her switchblade to his throat. “We can have the time of our lives!” he said, pissing himself.
Thinking, Bill nodded. “Alright,” he said, climbing down. “But I’m gonna check the joint for stems and seeds, Paul.”
Hillary let Paul go and snatched Bill as he descended. “So…!” Hillary yelled.
“Fuck!” Bill yelped, stunned by her presence. “Hillary, I had no clue you were still down here! Uh, that new titty bar is uh, a place where uhm, I bought that chastity bra for Paulie! Now that he’s a skinny bitch again, I wanna get my money back!”
“And what about the McDonald’s, Bill?! And the weed?!”
Bill looked down and shrugged. “Hell, I’m all out of creativity, baby.”
Hillary snatched his chin—“Fuck!”—before dragging him back inside the White House.
Lying awake, Bill stared at the ceiling.
“Barbara,” he whispered as Hillary lay asleep, “is it true that you were just a hallucination, like Paulie said?”
He got no answer.
He closed his eyes. “Mombra,” he said, needing an answer, “please, just, give me a sign so I’ll know Joe shouldn’t be Hillary’s second husband. For fuck’s sake, he can still eat meat!”
“Bill,” Barbara said, suddenly standing next to the bed.
“Such profanity!” she said, lathering a bar of soap to stick in his mouth.
She begrudgingly put the soap away.
Bill swallowed and glanced at Hillary.
“Nevermind her,” Barbara said, twiddling with her pearls, “I gave her a dream about being a five-term president.”
Bill’s eyes grew big as he watched Hillary’s grin emerge.
“Now,” Barbara said, sitting on the edge of the bed, “you want proof that your near-death experience was real?”
Bill nodded, absently rubbing his neck.
“Well then,” Barbara said, suddenly tossing a cherub at him, “is that real enough!”
“Fuck!” Bill yelped, being suffocated by the excessively large baby. “They’re so fucking fat, Barbara!”
“Feel the pain, Bill! That’s what you want your wife to carry—and twins at that!”
“I—never—wanted her to carry some—fat ass cherubs, Barbara!” he yelped, overpowered by the cherub’s size.
“What do you think infants feel like?!” She lifted the massive cherub off him, and it disappeared.
“Of course Joe Biden isn’t meant to be Hillary’s second husband!”
“But how do you know for sure?!”
“Because I’m all-powerful now!” she said, showing him her biceps. “Plus, God loves Hillary. He’d never have her marry Joe. Now, Meryl…” Barbara said, looking to the floor.
Agreeing, Bill quirked his eyebrows.
“You’re too insecure. For heaven’s sake, you were a two-term president who left office with an excessively high approval rating. America didn’t even want to see my Georgie when his term ended.”
“They—they said he was the worst president ever,” Bill stammered, thinking back. “But that was before the Orange Fuck was birthed from the bowels of hell and descended upon America like the Abomination of Desecration that was foretold in the ancient Book of Daniel,” Bill said, turning to the readers before making the sign of the cross on his chest.
Barbara nodded. “Toughen up!”
“And give Hillary these,” she said, handing Bill rechargeable batteries. “She’ll appreciate them.”
“What the f—!”
Barbara disappeared, and Bill shot up. “Hillary!” he yelled, shaking her. “Hillary!”
“So help me God!” Hillary screamed, left hand raised. She reached for her glasses. “What is it, Bill?!”
“Barbara! She came back and gave me a vision!”
Hillary licked her lips. “What did she say?” she asked, miffed that she couldn’t finish her fifth inauguration.
Bill swallowed. “She said Joe wasn’t meant for you—that God loved you too much.”
“I already know that, Bill. Hell, I’m more likely to marry Meryl.”
Agreeing, Bill nodded.
“Do you feel any better at least?”
“I do,” Bill said, tenderly kissing her lips. “I just wish I could prove that she visited me...that I really had that near-death experience.” He looked down. “She threw a cherub at me, Hill.”
“And it was fat as fuck! I had no idea infants could be so obese!”
“Goodnight, Bill,” she said, cuddling to her pillow.
Hillary rolled over.
“She told me to give you these,” he said, amazed that the batteries were still in his hand.
Her eyes grew big as she saw them. “Oh my God. Where did you get those?”
“From Barbara!” Bill said, pissed that he even mentioned them. “I swear she read the latest Sharper Image catalog!”
“Go to sleep,” Hillary cooed, kissing Bill’s lips.
He nodded, and lay down.
As he tried to fall sleep, he heard a faint wisp of steady air. Blown away, his eyes grew big, realizing what she was doing. “Hillary!”
Several Days Later
Giddy as they pulled up, Paul jumped out of the van and sprinted to the entrance. Huma rolled her eyes at him as she unseated an adorably violent Hillary Astrid.
“Hershey Park,” Bill said, pale skin seeming extra white as he wore a t-shirt and shorts. “Ugh,” he said, gagging, “this fucking place smells like chocolate!”
Kurt helped Hillary out of the van, and she inhaled, eyes resting at half-mast. “God, this place smells like chocolate!”
Only wearing swim trunks, Joe walked up to the couple. “Soon-to-be wife,” Joe cooed, stroking Hillary’s hair, “I smell candy…and sex.”
“Enough!” Hillary said, holding Bill’s hand. “You already know that I’ll never marry you, Joe.” She took a breath. “Besides, when Bill dies, I plan to date Meryl.”
“Fuck!” Joe yelped, stomping the pavement. “No one can compete with her, Hillpot! She can play anybody, including a virile, vice president of a man! She a master of disguise!”
“Billy?” Hillary cooed, ignoring Joe.
Hillary looked down. “I’m gonna spend my day reading novels next to the Chocolate River. Stay away from all dairy, fried foods, and every single ride. I don’t want you getting a stomach ache from tasting all the rollercoasters. However, if you’re good,” she said, finger on his chin, “you can have fresh churned ice cream at noon.”
“Since it’s Paul’s day, I got the owners to allow smoking throughout the campus,” she said, showing him her pack.
“He’ll love that,” Bill cooed, kissing Hillary’s lips.
“Humey!” Paul called, smoking four cigarettes at once. “They’re not even trying to arrest me!”
Happy, Bill kissed Hillary’s crown. “Hill?”
He looked down. “Thank you for choosing lesbianism.”
“I’m serious, Hillary! I knew you’d consider pie, and you just needed the right push.”
Hillary licked her lips. “You’re right.”
Bill’s eyes grew big.
“But today,” she said, shuffling her foot across the ground, “I’m craving sausage.”
Excited, Bill swallowed. “Don’t fuck with me, Hillary.”
“I’m not,” she said, grinning widely. “I’d love some sausage, especially while we ride the chocolate merry-go-round.”
“Dammit!” Bill yelled, grabbing her hand and running. “We don’t have time to waste!”
As Paul and Huma kissed, Hillary Astrid hurled rocks at Joe.
“Humey,” Paul cooed.
Paul looked down. “I’ve been thinking, and uh, I’d love to have another baby with you.”
Huma bit her lip, intrigued and touched.
“I know the pregnancy with Hillary Astrid was hard, but every time I see you, I basically wanna shoot a baby inside of you.”
“Gosh, Paulie,” Huma said, moving her hair behind her ear.
“I’d offer to carry the baby myself, but until Ralph finally figures out how to get a male pregnancy to term, I don’t think it’ll be feasible. I’m sorry, Humey,” he said, shuffling his foot across the pavement.
Huma smiled, hand on Paul’s chin. “Let’s do it, Paulie.”
Paul’s eyes grew big.
“Hillary Astrid would do well with another baby around. Maybe it’ll curb her propensity to engage in deadly violence.”
“I was thinking the same thing!” Paul yelped, hugging Huma close.
Upset about Hillary choosing to date Meryl in the future, Joe sat on the ground, not fighting back against an even more violent Hillary Astrid.
“Go on,” he cried, face in his hands. “I was so fucking close, and now I’ve lost out to the award-winning, acting sensation known as Meryl Streep!” He sobbed before picking up a thrown rock. He opened the wrapper and ate it with quirked eyebrows.
“Joe,” Maxine said, wearing a bathing suit and kitten heels.
“Max,” he cooed, swallowing. “I thought you were on a kill mission in the Andes, determined to take out Jimmy Carter’s right hand man, Bono.”
She helped him up. “His name’s Bonzo,” she said, with emphasis. “And he’s dead!”
Joe’s eyes grew big.
The two remained silent, and Maxine became incensed. “Well?!”
“Well, what, Maximus?!”
“How do I look?!”
“Like fucking chocolate!” he yelped, making out with her.
Riding on the empty merry-go-round that afternoon, Bill made out with Clittie.
“Fuuuckk…” Hillary moaned, holding to the horse’s chocolate leg.
“Mmmp,” Bill moaned, having the time of his life. “Hill, can you believe they let me do this with my bare ass hanging out?” he asked, slapping his own ass.
“I can’t,” she moaned, nearly overcome with arousal.
“Damn,” he said before licking her a bit and pulling away. “I always forget how much you love this Sweet, Sweet Ass™. And like Hillary,” Bill said, quickly turning to the readers, “You can love my ass, too! For $79.99 you can enjoy Bill Clinton’s sweet, sweet ass by ordering Bill Clinton’s Sweet, Sweet Ass™,” he said, holding up the soft-molded replica. “It jiggles! It jives! It loves being between massive thighs!”
“Fuck!” Hillary screamed, pulling Bill closer.
“And like Hillary,” he said, thrilled about her pleasure, “you, too, could be singing its praises.”
“Make them go away, Bill!”
“Bye, kids!” Bill yelped, as Hillary pressed his face back to her center. “I glahgalahgalah.”
Hillary nodded, and pushed away the camera.