Mr. President (Obamney)

11

Mitt chuckles at our panic-stricken faces. I feel frozen unable to move, like my new sleek loafers are glued to the floor. My mind is processing millions of thoughts per second, as if Romney himself has hacked into my soul, painting it black and ice cold.

Mitt Romney, is a force too strong to fight, he feeds off weakness, and poops on the poor. He claims to be a God but he's a descent from satan. Polluting the atmosphere, trashing the planet with his cooperations of doom.

I lock eye with Bush and Clinton, Mouthing them the word run. Scrambling for an escape, we gush out the door gasping for fresh air.

We shuffle into the taxi telling him to drive us to the nearest shopping center because we have a very important meeting tonight where politics gather in celebration of another successful year.

Anybody who means anything in the political field will be there, including candidates running for office next election, cabinet member, the speaker of the house, Vice Presidents, and former First Ladies.

As my mind wonders to our exciting plans tonight, Bush pulls several green bills out of his pocket handing it over to our driver, as we exit.

As we scurry along the sidewalk we find our way into a clothing store called Suit Up. Selling exactly what we need for the party tonight, outfits.

My eye catches a glimpse of the most sophisticated tuxedo, in the corner. I hastily fast-walk over to the suit, wanting to own it before anyone else.

I drag my finger along the fabric, testing to make sure I'll be comfortable, and to my surprise it's reasonably soft, not itchy nor rough.

A shop worker notices my deep lust for this divine piece of art, he fondly stares at the suit telling me fabulous charaterics about the designer. When the guy walk always I peek at the price tag to make sure it's in budget before I fall any harder for this tuxedo.

As if it's a sign from the heavens it's 20% off, making it only $699. What a steal. I internally fangirl, yanking the suit off the hanger, bouncing to the dressing room.

I Accidentally slam the changing room door, causing me to curse myself for being so careless.

I strip my clothes, smirking at my toned bod, then putting on my high end goodie. I practice my Michael Jackson dance moves, while singing Man In The Mirror.

I quickly realize I've been in here for a long time so I throw the suit off, jumping into my regular clothes. I casually scan the room looking for my companions, but when my eye lands on the tie display, I blush uncontrollably.

Bush and Clinton have multipliable colored ties wrapped around their heads, flashing gang signs at other customers. Also, their pants are sagged at a level even Justin Bieber himself would be ashamed.

I shoot Bush and Clinton a death glare so there eye wonders over to me. They quickly remove there inventive headwear, walking towards my direction.

"Listen, looking for a suit was the only reason we came here," I close my eyes adding on to my earlier statement,"please, stop embarrassing me."

"Bruh, chill we already picked out our suit," he calmly replies motioning to a rack of tuxedos.

"Are you men ready to make your purchases?" The shop worker intervenes.

"I guess," I slightly shrug.

He grabs the two hanging suit and gestures politely for mine, before typing numbers into the computer, printing out our receipt. "Thanks dude, you the real MVP," Clinton complements the shop worker as we exit Suit Up.

I glance at my phone to check the time, it reads 11:30.

"Yo, it almost feeding time," I tensely proclaim.

"Woah no need to fret pal there's a McDonald's right across the street," Bush points towards the direction of one of the biggest fast food chains in the world.

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A/N
lol. I made the edit above, I hope you guys like it. Sorry I didn't post an update last week I got really busy with school. This chapter is over dramatic about Mitt Romney, so just want to clarify. I DO NOT HATE MITT ROMNEY. Anyways, thanks for reading, this means so much!
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