Day 3 is coming

“Thank God that shit is over.”

We caught up with Mitt a few days ago at a basement level strip club a few miles outside of Philadelphia. A jubilant Romney was sweating a bit as drained the final drops from a bottle of Jack.

“What a fucking joke, right? How many times can a guy pretend to be something before he goes completely batshit crazy? Am I right? Right?”

He flagged down a scantily clad waitress, summoning her to fetch another bottle.

“Man, I fucking love this place. The girls are hideous, but they get me, you know what I mean? They know me. I come here and it’s like I’m back to being plain old Willard. What the fuck kind of name is Mitt anway? I started that shit as a joke and now I’m a few hanging chads away from being leader of the free world. Ha! I love this goddamned country.”

A dancer came by to offer up a lap dance, but Romney shooed her away dismissively.

“Listen, here’s the deal. The GOP wanted a good looking, seemingly intelligent guy to head the ticket this year. I tell ‘em, fuck it, I’ll do it! I’m a handsome motherfucker. I know some shit. Game on, right? So what if I like to kill people once in a while? Who cares if I worship the Lord of the Underworld? Semantics. I’ve got no conscience. I’ll say whatever the fuck you need me to say. What choice do you have? Gingrich? Paul? You really think someone’s gonna pull the lever for one of those haggard looking numbnuts? Not when they’re up against a guy like Barry O. Have you seen that dude shirtless? He must be P90X-ing his ass off.”

Well into his second bottle, Romney leaned back in his chair and sighed.

“I guess I’m gonna miss it all, a little bit, you know? Must be how the great actors feel when they’re done with a big role. I’ve pretended to be a job-creator, a universal health-care hater, a 'values guy’, you name it. Shit, I even pretended to be a Mormon, just to fuck with people a bit. Being a regular old Evangelical guy would’ve been too easy! Had to give people something to make them wonder about me. I had no idea how much those fuckers in South Carolina hated Mormons, though. You should’ve heard some of the names they called me. I may be on Beelzebub’s team, but even I know that wasn’t very Christian of them.”

Romney excused himself to the restroom for a few minutes. When he came back, he was sniffing furiously. 

“Where the fuck was I? Oh yeah. I’m running for President. Ha! I still can’t believe that shit. Fucking nuts! Some of my advisers thought I should hold off on revealing all of this Satan worshipping, serial killing crap until the general election is over. Fuck that! Most people don’t give a damn what I do with my free time. Just those nosey, holier than thou GOP primary voters. What a prickly bunch of losers, really. Boring as shit too.  I am so fucking glad I don’t have to hang with that lame ass crowd any more.”

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a pack of Marlboro reds, and lit up.

“Can you believe they don’t let you smoke in strip clubs any more? Fuck that shit. I dare someone to come over here and stop me.”

No one ever came over.