"I don't know if I can go, Huma," Hillary whispered hoarsely.
Huma looked up from Hillary's squalid crotch and gently spat out an erotic cyst. "You must my love. To show them you are proud and beautiful and brave."
"I just can't stop crying," Hillary said, wiping cheeks that hadn't seen any tears in decades.
"Barry will be there and Michelle," Huma said. She began decontamination procedures, astringent orange fluid hitting her from multiple high-pressure nozzles.
"I don't know what I ever say in those two. They were terrible lovers. Barry only wanted to bottom and Michelle's dick always smelled like asshole." Hillary rolled over and farted.
"It's time to go, my love," Huma said, bathed in UV light.
"I don't care," Hillary mumbled. "I don't care about anything."