[Election ‘016 57] Hillary the Memer Episode II: The Memes Strike Back

[Election ‘016 57] Hillary the Memer Episode II: The Memes Strike Back


The humble auditorium of Ford’s Theater was empty, save for the company on stage performing a rendition of Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar and a solitary box occupied by a sullen woman in her late 60s. There were only three seats in the box, one of them draped in an American flag and cordoned off with velvet ropes. Hillary Clinton sat on the far end of the row, surveying the performers below. Each senator plunged a sword into the side of Caesar, whose toga was stained with bright red stage blood. A young man, lean and handsome, with slicked black hair and a freshly pressed suit, walked in and stood nervously behind her, afraid to make a sound. Hillary turned to face him.

“Ah, Julian! Good to see you! Please, sit down.” Hillary beckoned to the young man. Julian hesitated for a moment before joining her next to the off-limits seat.

“You wanted to speak to me, ma’am?” Julian asked.

“Yes, Julian. Have you ever heard the legend of Abraham Lincoln, the Emancipator?”
“No,” Julian said.
“I thought not. It’s not a story the Democrats would tell you. It’s a Republican legend. Abraham Lincoln was an American president who lived many years ago. He was so powerful and so wise that he could use the his words to influence the citizens to create freedom and harmony… He had such a knowledge of politics that he could even keep the ones he cared about from prejudice and hatred.”
“He could do that? He could actually save people from prejudice?”
“Politics is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be… unnatural.”
“What happened to him”

“He became so powerful… the only thing he was afraid of was losing his power, which eventually, of course, he did. Unfortunately, some people were not satisfied with the vision of a unified nation that he was trying to create, and then one night, one of his citizens killed him in this very theater. It’s ironic that he could save others from hatred, but not himself.
“Is it possible to learn this power?”
“Not from the other candidates.”

* * *

Bernie Sanders, Lincoln Chafee, Jim Webb, and Martin O’Malley strode down the hallway of the Clinton headquarters and into Hillary’s office. The room had a wide, ceiling to floor window, stretching out to reveal the entire DC skyline, with the Washington Monument at its center. The large, ornate desk chair in the middle of the office swiveled around to reveal Hillary Clinton, clad in a burgundy pantsuit.

“Bernie Sanders,” Hillary greeted the men. “I take it that Ted Cruz has been disposed of. I must say, you are here sooner than expected.”

“In the name of the bottom 90% of the United States of America, you are under arrest, Secretary.” Bernie and his cohorts unsheathed their katanas.

“Are you threatening me, Senator Sanders?”

“The president will decide your fate.”

“I am the president!” Clinton snarled.

“Not yet.” Bernie readied his blade.

“It’s treason, then.” Hillary reached into the pocket of her pantsuit.

Bernie, Jim, Linc, and Marty charged toward Hillary. Clinton pulled an Uzi out of her pantsuit and shot wildly, riddling Jim, Linc, and Marty with bullets. Bernie dove behind a potted plant, a small fleshwound on his thigh where a bullet narrowly grazed him. Hillary unsheathed the katana that was hidden under her pantsuit and charged at Sanders. The two exchanged blows in a flurry of steel. Hillary lunged at Bernie and swiped wildly, making a space between them. She reached into her pantsuit and brandished a 9mm pistol, but the lightning fast reflexes of Bernie allowed him to slice the weapon in twain before she could fire a shot. In her panic, Hillary stumbled backward, dropping her blade. Sanders pointed the tip of his sword at her neck, but Hillary scrambled backward until her back rested against the windowsill.

“You are under arrest, Madame Secretary!”

“Bro! Bro, it was just a prank, bro! Calm down, bro!” Hillary muttered, cowering before Sanders.

Julian Castro ran in, nearly stumbling over the still writhing body of Lincoln Chafee. Hillary reached her hand out to the young Castro.

“Julian, I told you it would come to this! I was right! The other candidates are taking over the party!”

“The oppression of the establishment will never return!” Bernie said. “You have lost!”

“No… No no YOU WILL DIE!” Hillary pulled out a can of pepper spray and sprayed it in Bernie’s face. “He is the traitor!”

“Oh shit, my eyes! I can’t see! Somebody call an ambulance!” Bernie fell to the ground, rubbing furiously at his eyes.

“I have the power to save the nation you love!” Hillary pleaded. “You must choose!”

“Oh Christ! It burns! Julian, please help!”

“Don’t let him kill me! I can’t… hold him any longer…” Hillary gasped for air and rocked back and forth in place. “I… I am too weak…”

“She must stand trial!” Julian shouted out.

“Wha… what the hell are you talking about?” Bernie said.

“I need her!” Julian picked up Sanders and tossed him through the window into the streets below.

“Power!” Clinton shouted, spraying the rest of the pepper spray into the air. “Unlimited power!”

Julian fell to his knees and looked out the window at the limp body of Senator Sanders splattered across the pavement. “What… what have I done?!”

Hillary pulled herself to her feet and raised the hood of her pantsuit over her head. “You are fulfilling your destiny, Julian. Become my Vice President. Learn the ways of the establishment. There is no turning back now.”

“I will do whatever you ask,” Julian trembled beneath the towering presence of Clinton. “Just help me save America. I can’t live without it. If it falls, I don’t know what I will do. I pledge myself to your teachings. To the ways of the establishment.”

“Good. Good! A powerful Vice President you will become!” Henceforth, you shall be known as…” Hillary smirked. “Darth… Cater…to the hispanic electorate…”

“Thank you, madame president.”

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