Idolatry is worse than carnage

“There is another matter, Grandmother. A traitor in our ranks,” Hillary said.

The crone sniffed the air and smiled.

“Bring it to me,” she whispered.

A figure was dragged out the forest, filthy, nude, bleeding, gross, with terrible hair. A large root was jammed mouth to keep her from speaking.

“The Florida Jew,” the crone sneered. “You have betrayed us all.”

Debbie’s eyes went wide and she made muffed sounds around the root gag.

“Let the traitor speak,” the crone said.

Hillary pulled the root from Debbie’s mouth roughly, breaking a few of her distorted gravel teeth in the process. The delegates tittered as she spit blood and tears cleaned paths on her dirty face.

“You stand of accused of helping Them,” the crone said.

“Grandmother, I only did as you told me."

Hillary kicked her in ribs, below her distended breasts, and knocked her to her side.

“Betrayer,” she hissed and spat at her.

“Emails were written,” said the crone.

“Emails were written,” intoned the delegates, and they did up-twinkle.

“Emails were retained.”

“Emails were retained.” And they did jazz-hand.

“Emails were leaked.”

“Emails were leaked.” And they did side-step shuffle.

“I sentence you to be known and degraded by every man here,” the crone said.

The forest filled with the sounds of hundreds of men fleeing into the night. Far away retching was heard.

“Then death,” said the crone. “Bring her.”

Hillary kicked Debbie in the crotch until she began to crawl to the crone in her bower. A supplicant rushed forward and put a silver knife into her veiny and shaking hand.

“Give me your neck, Florida Jew,” she said.

Debbie tried to turn away and Hillary booted her once more in the ruin of her vagina.

“It can be worse, Betrayer. I can bring you before a Senate Subcommittee. Even your used assrag of a soul won’t survive that,” Hillary said.

Debbie turned her head away and presented her neck.

“Be swift, Grandmother,” she begged.

The crone struggled to raise the blade and swiped feebly at Debbie’s neck folds. The blade barely made a mark.

“Closer,” Hillary said, punching the pudding socks of Debbie’s teats painfully.

The crone steady her knife hand with the other and laid the knife on Debbie’s neck. She sawed back and forth with the knife until her strength gave out. A thin line of blood appeared.

“Aw, fuck it,” the crone said. “Let the dumb bitch just resign.”