Thinking Unenslaved

“Hell, no, boy. Yer just here for the cameras. ‘Sides, you already got a daddy.”

“No, sir, I swear I don’t. Momma says I ain’t never had a daddy.”

“. . . .”

“Well, it’s like this, see? I’m too old ta be yer daddy. Besides, I couldn’t take you to none of the clubs I belong to.”

“Why’s that, Mr. President?”

“Heh.heh.heh. Let’s just say mah clubs ain’t very colorful.”

“Oh, I get it. You really ARE as evil as Momma says.”

“Where IS yer momma, boy? Ah’m pretty shore sumpin’ needs cleanin’ somewhere.”

“That’s funny, Mr. President. Momma says no amount of scrubbin’ll ever get the Oval Office clean after eight years of your filth.”

“Now waitaminnit, boy. A couple o’ seconds ago, you was wantin’ me to be yer daddy. Now yer dissin’ me right ta mah face!”

“Yup, that’s right. I’ve always wanted to bust my daddy in the balls since he walked out on Momma and me. But since you screwed up everything else in our lives, I figured I’d try bustin’ yours.”

“Laura, get this little shit off your damn lap. He’s a plant from Hillary.”