Shaddup. Sit down. SIT down. Shaddup.

“Why do you put the hat on me, Donald?” asked Donald’s hair.

“Don’t listen to him, Donald,” Donald’s hat whispered. “He’s always hated me. You know he’s always hated me. I am truth, Donald. I love you.”

Donald’s pubic hair rustled in agreement. Or maybe the limo just lurched.

“Would you two fucking shut up for just a minute?” Donald screamed. “I need to concentrate!” He squeezed the tip of his glans, forcing his urethra to gape open. He guided the 100mg Viagra in with forceps and pushed it down the shaft of his penis as far as he could.

“Are you sure that’s how you are supposed to do it?” Donald’s hair asked.

“Pipe down, feathery,” Donald’s hat growled. “The man knows what he is doing.”

“I have to be ready for Iowa. Iowa is YUGE! I need to be YUGE!” Donald told his hair. He grabbed a handful of the blue pills from a candy dish and shoved them in his mouth. He chewed him into a paste and washed them down with 20 year cognac cut with Bud Light Lime.

The Green Mountain State

"But I need it," Bernie pleaded.

"It's not easy, Bernie. It takes a minute," Hillary said. She reared up from her squat and dropped back down, a low gruntle rumbling forth.

"Is it coming?" he asked, looking back over his shoulder. "I need it. You have it. I want it. Give it to me." He was whining. His weakness made her sick and aroused. She strained again and something inside her snapped like cheap sunglasses.

"OK, Bernie. It's starting," she said.

"Oh, thank Atheist God! Thank you, Atheist God! You have bestowed your nonexistent blessings upon us this day!" Bernie started to sway, still on his hands and knees.

"Shut that shit up. I still need to concentrate!" Hillary screamed. She waddled forward in her squat. Her prolapsed vagina slowly inflated into a rigid pseudopenis.

"I'm going to core you, Bernie. Core you like a crisp Vermont fuckapple."

Lunchables

Wharton Grad has solution to Bay Area housing crisis

The delicate scent of baked hipster drifted down the length of the wharf. Steve Smith's stomach grumbled and then whispered "Steve Smith. To the docks, Steve Smith." Nerve pathways carved out by a lifetime of pain fired. The enormous beast dropped the seal he was rapeating and began to lumber toward the deliciousness.

A flock of overweight nude humans fluttered past him on bicycles, their buttocks raised in their seats like a tender offering as they tried to get away. Their screams made his swollen testicles ache. The seal blood dried on his penis and mouth as he gathered speed. Baked hipster was near. That rarest treat.

The smell overwhelmed Steve Smith, but all he could see were steel boxes. Steve Smith hated the steel of men. He could rarely get at the sweet meat within in it. Steve Smith sniffed at the seams of one of the boxes. He knew baked hipster was inside. He roared and beat the box with his mighty wood ape fists, using all his wood ape strength.

"STEVE SMITH WANT HIPSTER MEAT!" Steve Smith roared.