“Senator, this new bill, will you please consider it?” shouted Clancy to Mr. Wilkes, the noble senator from Long Island . The senator liked to ignore Clancy, and this would prove to be no exception. “Senator, I need your help with this new anti-pain bill! I need your support, there is too much pain in the world, can I have your support?!”
To this, Wilkes looked up from his desk, visibly annoyed, “What on Earth could you want from me, you gigantic douche?”
Clancy looked panicked, and started sweating more profusely than was probably necessary. It was a hobby of Clancy’s to sweat a lot. It kept him safe, at times, but at other times it made him seem overly nervous and annoying. Today would prove to be no exception! Alas! The senator from Long Island was pissed! Indeed, there should be no senator from Long Island . Rhode Island Long Island came from, yes sir! The senator, whose first name was most certainly NATHAN, enjoyed thinking about nostalgia, wishing he were back in his old country-home in the good old swamp-lands of northern Long Island. Yes, there were swamp-lands there—not now, you understand, but back in the day, back when a man was a man—there were most CERTAINLY swamp lands in northern Long Island .
“Clancy, do you remember when I hired you?” asked NATHAN.
“Yes, I do, Sir. Do you?” asked Clancy.
“Ahh, yes, I CERTAINLY do!” said Nathan, and it was most definitely a lie, because it was ten years ago, and it was a time when the good senator from Long Island was almost constantly inebriated from pepto-bismol (back when they put liquor in it….you know, ten years ago...)
“Yes, I remember ten years ago… the year was 2000…. And oh, what a time to be alive, it was!” spoke the wise senator from Long Island . At this point, Clancy realized that the senator was going to go into one of his long-winded memory-sessions, where the scope and exaggeration of his memories is matched only by the size of his ego. And by ego I mean his ego. Damn, he had a big ego.
“Yes, it was the year 2000, let’s see… Eminem was in the early part of his career, we had just elected Bush, cocaine had been temporarily legalized, and no one ever wore any pants! Oh, it was terrific.” But in actuality, the good senator had probably exaggerated a few things in his head, as people still wore pants back then… But, to be fair, NATHAN never wore pants. So, at least for him, he was speaking the truth. His 2000 was comprised of a lot of pantslessness. Yea, pantslessness. Yea.
“I heard women were allowed to vote, back then, is this true, senator?”
“Not on my watch, it wasn’t!” spoke the senator, who most definitely HATED all women of all shapes, colors, and sizes, but especially of the Caucasian variety. As a matter of fact, his unadulterated hatred of all women was matched in scope and size only by the sheer magnitude and intensity of his ego. Yes, his ego was so massive, it was like Paul Bunyan’s father. That’s how fucking big it was. My god, his ego. And, again, to clarify, when I say ego, I most CERTANLY mean ego.
“Clancy, these are horrible times that try my soul, and I need a sandwhich. And on this sandwhich I need the most fanciest of lunchmeats, yes! And I need this now, you understand, right now, because my stomach is telling me that I am hungry. So hungry, in fact, that if I do not get that which I request – in this case, a mere sandwhich – then I will smite you! And by smite, I most CERTAINLY mean assassinate and…if there’s time, rape. Yes, you don’t stand a chance, Clancy, you’re in deep waters now, you are! Ooooh, Clancy! Oh, shit!”
“Gee, wiz, you sure are angry at me, would you like me to get your hitting stick for you? I will deliver to myself one hit from the hittin’ stick, if that’s what you request!”
The senator looked like he was about to explode with anger. But then, at the last second, the senator decided to explode with happiness, instead.
“Ahhhhhh! I am happy.” Exclaimed the good willed senator.
“Oh, boy! I hope so! Because you were getting pretty explosive there!”
“WHAT?” barked the senator, “what is that supposed to mean? I have been cordial to you, you are nothing but a weak puppet! You are lamer than Captain Planet!”
To this, Clancy looked quite ashamed. But NATHAN ignored this shame and kicked Clancy in the face, knocking the poor man’s head right off his neck. Dead.
“Oh, shit! Did I really…just…. Hmmm..” the senator realized he had just fucking killed a man with his foot, which was most CERTAINLY bad. Yes, how would he get out of this one?
He sat there for minutes on end, just trying to think of what to do…
..But he couldn’t of think of, like, anything. So he ran
away, as fast as he could. He ran and he ran and he ran. He was excellent at running. The only thing stronger than his running abilities was his ego. He ran and he ran, and then he stopped. He was panting, and completely exhausted, as he had ran about a mile and half.. but he was still in his office, which was about 40 feet long, so he was basically running around in circles for about ten minutes.. But he now knew what to do. He went back into his main office, grabbed a piece of printing paper, and a marker, and tried to think of something clever to say about suicide…
ONE MONTH LATER...
Barack Obama was standing on a stage, in front of Nathan, and behind them both were a sea of fans, maybe tens of thousands of people, watching and waiting. This was a celebration, to be certain!
“NATHAN!!, you have done quite good, young man!”
“Thank you, Mr. President.”
“No, thank you! You single-handedly saved our economy, and you were able to stop most forms of terrorism, all because of your huge and gigantic and always friendly ego. Which is great. And on top of all that, you had to deal with your little bitch of an assistant, Clancy, killing himself and writing on his suicide note that he wanted you to have everything he ever owned. Which, as it turns out, was a lot! He was loaded, and you just gained a gilligan’s trillion in U.S.
“Why, thank you, Mr. President. Even though Clancy’s horrible suicide made everything so much harder for me, I was still able to conquer fascism and end world poverty and stop AIDS, and destroy all the pyramids. And do you want to know how?”
“For god’s sake, NATHAN, yes!” screamed Barack Obama, visibly quite upset.
“Oh well, it was because of my huge ego!” And see, this whole time, when I’ve been saying EGO, I really meant his dick. See, cuz his actual ego is fine... but… like, so he’s got, like, a HUGE dick.
THE END
