“Memories and possibilities are even more hideous than realities.”

“Thank you for meeting with me,” Hillary said. It was loud enough for the staffers and reporters in the hallway to hear before she shut the door.

“No problem, no problem,” he said. Bernie feebly made his way to an overstuffed chair and lowered himself painfully into it. “The campaign trail. Young people hug too strong these days. Back when I was growing up in Brooklyn we were tough but we knew how to hug! The old Brooklyn hug we’d used to say. It was elegant, dammit. And it never hurt.”

Hillary played with the panel near the door. Powerful bolts thunked close inside the door and frame and three loud beeps sounded.

“Shut up, fuckhead,” she told him. “I’ve turned off the recorders and soundproofed the roof.”

“Excellent! I already have an erection. There’s a button between my dangler and my nutsack.”

“We’re not here for that,” she said.

“What? I wasted a charge then. You know they have to reload through my ass? My ASS!”

Hillary slapped him.

“Pay attention. I am speaking. I have spoken!” she screamed.

“So we’re done here?” Bernie started to get up and she pushed him back down.

“What?” he asked. “You said you had spoken. Past tense. Why do I talk like an old vaudeville routine?”

“Shut up, Jew,” Hillary’s goiter rasped.

“Who said that?”

“I did,” the goiter said.

“Hillary? Your neck is talking to me. Hello? Can someone bring me a Fresca?”

“Fuck your Fresca and fuck you,” the goiter said. “You didn’t drop out when you were told and now we have to run an actual campaign.”

“Can I touch it?” he asked.

“No,” Hillary and the goiter said at the same time.

“What it is?” he asked.

“It’s my only child, Bernie. I made her,” Hillary whispered.

“What about Chelsea?” he asked.

“That ugly thing? She was made from the filth Webb left in me. Left in me, like a floater in a guest bathroom toilet. This is my true child.” She stroked the bulge on the side of her larynx. It purred with contented delight.

“I still have an erection,” he said.

“You will support us, Jew,” the goiter said. Hillary began to unbutton her $12,000 housecoat.

“Whatever you say, uh, ma’am,” he stammered.

Hillary lifted a ponderous breast and Bernie saw a dark patch of skin and hair and wetness. As she pulled her heavily-veined teat high, the dark skin split, revealing lips.

“I grew it for you, Bernie. Black Vaginas Matter.”