Mr. President (Obamney)

1

I kissed my beautiful wife Michelle, before she walks into the library for a meeting discussing the importance of young educated Americans.

Her dark hair is perfectly curled, her eyes shine like the sun after a rainstorm.

God, I'm glad she's mine.

"I'll see you for supper in the dining hall," her soft words flow right off her tongue.

I nod coolly, and swiftly climb the stairs to reach my office. When I arrive I immediately grab the telephone, and dial Clinton's number. He been one of my best bros since last election when he said,"I'm really rooting for you." Besides, The weather is the greatest for a friendly golfing match.

On the phone:

Clinton: "Bro?"

Obama: "Yo I was just wonder if you wanted to hit the green today?"

Clinton: "I'm alway ready to hit a green."

Obama: "Aye then come over asap."

Clinton: "okay."

Obama: "okay?"

Clinton: "okay."

After repeating "okay" to each other just to fulfill the meme, we finally hang up.

Clinton and I went shopping last week and bought matching golfing uniforms. The outfits we picked consisted of a tan collar shirt layered with a light pink argyle sweater vest, paired with some nice kaki short. I normally wouldn't go with the bold pink vest, but Clinton kept on bugging me about it saying,"Only real men wear pink." I hope he's right because I don't want to seem like an amateur.

After changing and using the restroom, I sprint down the stairs and long hallway. When I reach the entryway I am greeted by Clinton.

I definitely pull off the sweater more than him, but I keep my mouth shut because I don't want to hurt the poor guy. It's not it's his fault he wasn't born with the same amount of swag as me.

When you live in the White House they give you your own golf course, and it's nice and all, but there's a better one not even a mile away. So me and him naturally just wanna go to that one.

As we walk down the newly refurbished pavement Clinton's telling me this crazy story about Hillary. They're having some issues with their marriage, and I feel bad because he gets emotional about it.

One time he came over and started balling like a baby in the leather chair across my desk, I had to give him some therapy and wise words for him to stop. He said if I ever told anyone he would kick me in the groin and never talk to me again.

When we reach the golf course a lady hands us our clubs and the keys to my golf cart.

But as I turn around to put my clubs in the golf cart, I see the devil glaring with a smirk. My legs go weak, and my vision blurs. I look at Clinton, he looks like he's ready to run. It's my election rival, my opponent from the other side.

Mitt Romney.