“Midterms are coming up,” Joe said as he played in the bath.

“Midterms were last night, Grandpa,” Finnegan said as she peeled a layer of shed skin from his back.

Joe’s shaky, soapy hand lifted out of the bath water and caressed her breasts through the plastic gown she wore.

“I love bath time with you, Ashley,” he said. His breath stank of Ensure and Chewable Centrum Complete.

—–

“We won, Yonny, we won!” Gisele cried as she ran to him backstage.

John grimaced and shuffled toward her, his enormous Crocs squeaking on the floor.

Gisele hugged him, nestling herself between his moobs, his numb left arm coming up to crush her against himself.

“I am so proud of you, Yonny,” she said. “Senator Fetterman sounds nice.”

“Fetterman,” John said. “Senate.” Another grimace, like an infant shitting itself.

Gisele struggled out of the hug and smiled up at him.

“Do you remember you promise, Yonny?” she asked coyly, running a finger down his 6X hoodie.

“Remember,” John said. “Promise remember yourself let me you.”

Gisele clambered on his back like a macaque and pulled his hood down. She began to lick Lump all over; them’s greasy skin tasted like flavor-blasted Doritos.

“Oh, my Cool Ranch amante,” she said breathily. She paused to nibble at they’s apex and the whole flesh potato shivered.

“I want another baby, Yonny,” she said. “I want a Lump-baby.”

Brown and black chunky pus sprayed into her mouth as she bit down.

—–

“I want a press release to go out about my victory last night,” Kamala told Astrid.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“The election was clearly an endorsement of my leadership and popularity.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I may just announce my 2024 campaign.”

Behind her notepad, Astrid rolled her eyes so hard they made audible clicking noises, like the solenoid in a car with a dead battery.

—–

The first Clinton/Cheney 2024 bumpersticker vomited from the printer and curled up on the floor.