Mr. President (Obamney)

10

We wake up to beautiful anthem of our mighty country, "Oh say can you see, by the dawn early light," rings from the alarm clock set previously from the night before. I guess Bush or Clinton set it so we wouldn't sleep all day.

We rise from our cozy cocoons yawning and stretching, as daylight leaks through the blinds hanging over the windows.

"I don't have any breakfast guys, so do you just wanna drive somewhere and eat?" Clinton questions with his eyes closed in a tired husky voice, he looks extremely exhausted.

"Bro, you look like you just got hit by a truck," I taunt Clinton as he lightly groans at my statement.

We all roll up our sleeping bags, so when we come back we don't have to do so much tidying up.

The three of us all get dressed causally for our morning outing, using the John before leaving.

Clinton calls a cab to take us to our breakfast place, we didn't even have to discuss where to go for brunch. It will forever be IHOP.

Because IHOP was the restaurant we ate at before all elections and debates. The food is five stars, plus the prices are unbeatable. Which is the perfect combo for hungry politics.

The three of us pile into the small cab, as we make small talk with the overly friendly driver. He couldn't believe he was sitting in a car with the president and two former ones. He told us he's republican but he voted for me because Romney said some very controversial things during his campaign, which I completely get.

When we arrive at our destination, Clinton hands him a few green bills smiling. We wave our goodbyes, running towards the entrance of IHOP.

"Party of three please," Bush tells the host while she fishes for menus.

She guides us to a small booth in the corner of the causal diner, all of us take as seat as she blahs about the never ending pancake special, as she places the menus directly in front of us.

When the annoying host leaves us alone, we dig through the pamphlet of food, even though we go here all the time, and know the menu by heart.

Our cute waitress comes by asking,"What can I get you guys to drink, my name is Natalie and I've be your server this morning," she smiles.

"A burning cup of decaf pls." Bush states without looking up from his menu.

"I'll have orange juice pls," I tell Natalie because it's the king of of fruit juices.

"Diet coke pls," Clinton retorts, smirking at me.

What kind of breakfast fanatic drinks coke with pancakes? I'm mentally disturbed by this, and hope there's a therapist outside waiting for people like him.

Natalie, our waitress, scribbles down our drink order and skips to the kitchen.

"You're repulsive," I scowl at Clinton as he giggles looking out the window.

Staring at the menu, I internally debate whether I want the chicken 'n' waffles or the fruity tooty pancakes. Weighting the pro and cons of each I come to a conclusion. chicken 'n' waffles. Because Bush said that he's getting that, and I don't want to steal his style or copy his cool.

Natalie trots over to our booth asking what we would like to eat while placing our drinks on the table.

"I'll have the chicken 'n' waffles pls." I proudly state, closing my menu and giving it to Natalie.

Bush announces his,"Rooty tooty with blueberries pls."

"Strawberry cream crepes pls," Clinton say, handing his menu to our server.

"Okay, I'll have those right out!" Natalie smiles promising.

Natalie seem like such a genuine person, I'm going to tip her big. Being a waitress can be difficult, I was a waiter in high school, and some of the customers were flat out buttholes. Like did your mama teach you respect.

Anyways, as my mind wonders to my high school days it's quickly interrupted when Clinton decides to expel gas from his lips. Clinton just burped a burp that would sure wake the dead. luckily, not many people are sitting near us.

Bush is laughing his head off in his seat, I guess the thundering, powerful, turbulent, monumental belch surprised him too.

"Bro at least warn us, my mouth was open and everything," I gag.

Ugh. This is obscene. This is unholy. I can't even right now. Honestly I know. I now know why Hillary is tired of this nasty, nauseating, and polluted six year old aditude. Like srsly contain yourself, we're in public.

Just when the stench lighten up to where I don't have to pinch my nose and hold my breath, Natalie appears carrying our food. Right now, she is the rainbow after the storm. Bless her tho because when she comes over here, she gonna get a whiff of what poison leaked out of Clinton's mouth.

She places the plates filled with goodness and peace in front of us, dinning on what seem as pure bliss.

It's doesn't take long for us to devour our delicious meals, so we pay and leave a giant tip for our wondrous watriess.

As we scamper out of IHOP we run into someone, making all of us freeze in our tracks.

He grins as his dark wrath wraps around our necks, choking our untainted innocents. Like an anaconda squeezing sinful poison into my brain. I pray to God, hoping I'll survive from this irreligious torment swimming in my mind.

It's Mitt Romney.