We Defy Augury

“You don’t have to do this,” Joe pleaded as Hillary shackled his left leg. “I did what you wanted. You saw the news conference!”

“Too late! Too late! You lingered like the stink you leave in Amtrak bathrooms!” She moved in, the hot corruption of her breath in his face.

“Good old Joe,” she whispered. “Everyone loves Joe. Everyone loves Joe’s wife.” She pulled off his tie and slit the neck and arms of his sweat-stained dress shirt.

“Everyone love Joe’s kids, especially the dead one.” Hillary gathered up the crotch fabric on his dress pants and pulled. She used the razor to cut along the inseam on both sides and then ripped them off his waist. Joe began to sob.

“No one loves Hillary’s beautiful baby, not even that moron we paid very well to marry her and knock her up. Why is it, Joe? Why does everyone love you so much?” She cut his boxers off and stuffed them in his mouth.

“This is some fucked up shit, yo,” Donald’s hat whispered.

“Shut up you idiot. She might hear you,” his hair replied.

“I don’t know why I have to be here,” Donald said, to no one. Hillary turned on him, slashing the air with the razor.

“Because I want you here. I want you to witness what happens to those who betray me!” she screamed. She pounced on Joe and sliced off his right nipple with a single motion of the blade. He screamed through his underwear. She picked the nipple off the floor and ate it.

“Um. Meaty. I wonder what other parts of you are good?” She squatted in front of him and smelled his genitals intently, like a dog getting that last whiff of old piss from a hydrant.

“God, Joe. You’re balls smell so good. Like honey and old Bibles.” She made a small, careful cut along the seam of his scrotum and licked. “But your blood, Joe. Not so good. Are you dying Joe? That would be a real fucking shame, right, Donald?”

“Yes, Mommy. Whatever you say,” Donald said. He farted wetly and a long string of anal beads clattered on the warehouse floor.

“Pick those up!” Hillary screamed, her pendulous breasts wobbling with rage.

“Yes, Mommy.”

“You know what, Joe?” she asked, turning back to him. “You did do what I asked. Maybe a little late, maybe not when I told you too, but you did OK. I think you deserve a reward.” Joe’s eyes went wide with terror. He began struggling to free himself, straining at the shackles.

“Yeah, Joe. You know what’s coming, don’t you? You’re going to get the ass, Joe.” She turned and bent over. Joe screamed again, a pathetic sound. Underneath it Donald could hear the eager gnashing as she backed toward him.

“I wish he had left me in the car,” the hat said.

“He never leaves me in the car,” the hair moaned.

“Who said that?!?” Hillary screeched. In the rafters of the warehouse a bird died and fell to the floor.