George Bush: My Night With Santa
His voice came over the telephone, gruff, assured.
"Santa here," he intoned, "is this the White House?"
I was flummoxed and a litte intrigued. I might be the President of Amurrica but I'm still a little boy at heart.
Or a naughty teen vixen.
"Y-yes, this is President George Bush," I stammered, overwhelmed. I found his cologne oddly stirring.
"Well, George, word is up here that you've been a real stinker this year," Santa cooed manfully, "a real Naughty Scottie".
I shivered. "Am I going to be punished, Santa?" I squeeked ineffably, drawing my knees up to my chest and tracing the pattern on my bobby sock.
Santa laughed, ho ho ho. "Why yes, saddlepal, looks like you're in for the full treatment. Ho ho ho."
Santa. I shivered. His beard would feel like cotton candy against my cheek.
HA HA HA HA! All right, man, I can't continue this post, as funny and utterly bereft of redeeming qualities it may be. My mom reads this shit.
ha ha ha ha.
posted by Bobby Lightfoot at 22:02
6 Comments:
I love you Bobby. You're so dissolute.
I couldn't wait for Santa to feck Bush's man-pissy soooo hoard.
Please finish it!
I disagree, please don't finish. I like the unfulfilled sexual tension, the never-existing tender kisses, the unheard Clausian grunts and W-ian dainty squeals.
Your mom reads your blog? My mom won't go near mine. How do you get mom readership?
Saddlepal.
You are too funny...
dear god - if it will make the mental images stop, PLEASE finish this.
C'mon you guys ... you know Santa would get George all hot and bothered and then really punish him by not doing what he wanted.
And I would pay good money to read Bobby's version of that.
tskorzue (what you say to yourself when you're out of orzue again)
Oh my god I am so in love with this post. Please finish it! I will post it on my blog, so you can piss of my mom instead!
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