Now you probably heard about this over the weekend, Hillary drinking the alcohol, because it is obviously the story of the campaign. The one that will determine the presidency. For a little more background: Hillary was being very working class this weekend by drinking alcohol and then shooting guns, in that order. This is what the poor blue-collars do, when not eating Mexicans or, conversely, shooting Mexicans. Take these factors, add some Jesus speak, take the square root and divide it by the average U.S. gas price ($3.37), don’t forget to carry the zero, and it equals OBAMA’S ELITISM. More picture of Hillary getting shitfaced in
bitter sugary Indiana below.
Here is Hillary toasting her first drink: a frosty mug of Natty Ice or whatever The Poors can afford. Except for the PASTIEST HUMAN ALIVE, who we will call “Agnes” because it sounds old and pasty, on the far left. She is drinking actual cement. “When In Indiana…”, as they say about tourism. As for these other people, who knows what jobs they don’t have. Probably coopers or farriers; who gives a shit. It’s important, however, that you notice the figure to the right of Hillary. He is named “Dad” according to his sweatshirt, and he will play an important role in our tour. He hooked up with Agnes later in the night (third base + BJs). Nicccce.
Ruh roh, Hillary only had two bites of her cobb salad for dinner that night — she claimed it was too BITTER, a state in which humans never find themselves. That means she’s three-sheets-to-the-wind after a mere three sips and would maybe like to sex this local corporate suit, who we will name “Lindsey.” Dad, however, catches wind that Hillary Clinton is standing right next to him and quietly tells Hillary that Lindsey is a known Gay around town. “Oh all the gays love meee,” Hillary says and then adds, “ha ha gayyy la la.” Hillary is clearly going to be “that girl” tonight.
Lindsey, the town Gay, watches as Hillary downs a SoCo Lime, because she wants to ask Lindsey for a kiss and is nervous. She still does not understand that he is gay. The crowd anxiously awaits her drunken sex-lunge towards Lindsey. M. Night Shyamalan in the purple thinks Hillary will make a surprise, twist move: instead of going for the kiss she will pour water on Bucks County’s aliens. The grinning pervert behind her is thinking about naked children. Your high school basketball coach is behind her. He is Lindsey’s father and hates his gay son.
Lindsey suddenly disappeared into thin air, because M. Night Shyamalan revealed he was a gay ghost this whole time! The remaining party ignores Shyamalan, for sucking. Dad wants to get in on this round of shots too but will settle for club soda because of his thyroid or lipid count or whatever else he can’t afford prescriptions drugs for.
(HE’S ALSO JUDGING THE SHIT OUT OF HER.)
Lindsey kills Shyamalan shoots Agnes screws Dad judges Hillary vomits on high school basketball coach disowns Obama marries Lindsey, the end.