Tales from (Future) History, Chapter 2: Clinton’s Return

Beep, beep, beep.

Hillary Rodham Clinton awoke from a dreamless sleep to the sound of her monotonous alarm. Without skipping a beat, she shot her right arm out to the side, laying it rest on her husband’s protruding stomach. William Jefferson Clinton, former 41st president of the United States, stirred groggily. “Whazzza?”

“Just checking.” Hillary rolled ceremoniously out of bed, placing her feet into designer slippers while securing her Burberry robe around her waist. She briskly walked over to the nearby window and flung open the curtains, letting fresh sunlight pour through the room. Bill rolled over, moaning something incoherent about the light while Hillary proceded to fling open the windows, letting the ambient soundscape of chirping birds mixed with car alarms and fire sirens permeate the atmosphere.

“It’s a great day to be president,” exclaimed Hillary, breathing in the smog of Washington through her nostrils.

“Madame president?”

Hillary looked up in surprise from the White House’s “war table.” A figure of Iranian president Mahm?d Ahmadinej?d fell out of her left hand while a tank fell out of her right. Quickly shuffling the various pieces around, she turned towards her visitor, the vice president.

“You don’t need to hide those from me.”

“I know, Vice President McCain, but I didn’t know it was you,” said Hillary, as she embraced John McCain warmly.

John chuckled and moved over to the table. “You know, Hillary, you look like a natural behind the table.”

Hillary smiled, fiddling with a figure of Russian president Dmitry Medvedev. “Believe me, I know. Bill always let me move things around randomly.” While saying this, Hillary knocked over a tank from Kosovo’s position on the map.

“That’s great, Hill-Dog.” McCain’s tone shifted to his more serious drawl. “So…if you don’t mind me asking…how is Bara—”

Hillary quickly slapped John before he could finish his sentence. “Do NOT mention his name out in the open! Are you insane?”

“I’m just asking, I feel like I should know–”

“You only need to know what I decide to tell you! That was the agreement that was made!”

McCain backed against the wall. Hillary turned away from him for a moment, resting her hands on the table. Finally, she turned around, taking a sip from her chai latte that had been sitting on top of Switzerland. “You know, John, it wasn’t easy planting all of that 9/11 terrorist paraphenelia in Barack’s home. Do you have any idea how many of Rudy’s people I had to pay off for that stuff? TOO many.” Hillary began to walk menacingly towards McCain, taking another sip of her latte while slowly unscrewing the lid. “Barack is going to be in Guantanamo for a very long time, and there’s no way he’s going to ever get out!”

She proceded to thrust the remainder of her chai latte into McCain’s face, causing him to cry out in pain. “You’re a monster, Hillary! You’re more of a monster than the entire Vietnamese army.”

“How did you ever think you would get into this House all by yourself?” Hillary fumed, “You’re nothing but a washed up old man. While you’re my vice president, you will continue to do as I say, understand?”

McCain wiped the remainder of the scalding liquid off of his face. He hung his head and managed to only utter the words “I’ve made a huge mistake.”

Bill Clinton’s lifeless body fell to the floor, blood spewing from his orifices. A shadowy female figure hovered above him, cracking her knuckles while beginning to unzip out of her clothes. As she removed her black jumpsuit, it became apparent that this woman was, in fact, a man in disguise. The figure loomed over Bill’s body before removing the blonde wig and mask from his face, revealing his identity to his decesased pray.

“Can you smell what Barack is cooking?” said Former Senator Barack Obama, D-IL, wiping the remaining blood off of his hands.

…to be continued!

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