The Selection - A bitch's Dream...

A bitch slept like a rock and woke up ready to kick some ass…

2 cups coffee followed by Splenda with a dash of 1% organic milk, 1 Claritin, 2 Sudafed and cigs…

Let’s just jump right in shall we?

The Selection – A Bitch’s Dream...
Last night this bitch’s dreams were filled with drama.

Deep in the bowels of the West Wing a viciously drunk Scooter sat waiting in his bedtime cage. Tears of anger and rage trickled down his face as he alternated thumb sucking with taking long pulls from his bottle of moonshine.

Suddenly, the door opened and Karl Rove entered the room.

“Karl! Let me out! I think I have to use the little boy's room!” Scooter whined hysterically.

Rove, rolling his eyes and silently damning Scooter to hell, approached the cage.

“Jesus, you smell. When was the last time we bathed you? Fuck it. Come on and get your pee on, but don’t get comfortable. You’ve been a real shit and now that you are back on the sauce your ass is staying in the cage unless we need to fly you over another disaster area!”

Scooter, eyes bloodshot and mouth slack, eagerly watched the cage latch. Once it was released he made his move.

“What the fuck? Jesus, get back here you fucking worm!” Karl shouted and made a frantic grab for Scooter, who was out of the cage and to the door in a flash.

“Fuck you! Fuck you hard, motherfucker! I’m the fucking ruler of the free world, asshole! It’s time for me to rule!” Scooter slurred then shot out the door.

Moving quickly despite his inebriated state, Scooter gained access to the Oval Office and locked the door. His minions, seeing that their master had been released, gathered at the desk.

“Those fucking Republicans have turned their back on me. After all I’ve done for them! I gave them a war…shit, they love to kill people. I gave them anti-gay amendments and stuff like that. I refused to talk to that National Association of angry black folks. I’ve cut taxes for the rich and granted countless no-bid contracts. Hell, I’ve signed their budgets too! And what do I get? Huh? Not a Gawd damned thing but grief and backstabbing bullshit!” Scooter ranted.

“Now, these fuckers are distancing themselves from me when I need them most. They criticize the war, even though they wanted it and the government spending that came along with it. They bitch about levees and shit. They are pissed at the deficit, but I never saw a single one of them push back from the table and turn down a plate of pure pork! Assholes! All of them are fucking assholes!” he slurred.

Scooter took another swig of his moonshine and scowled.

“Master, you should punish them! You should make them pay.” A brave minion whispered from beneath his dark hooded cloak.

Slowly Scooter lifted his head. His glassy eyes narrowed and his thin lips curled.

“I know what to do. I’ll nominate one of you to the motherfucking Supreme Court! Yeah…you there. What the fuck is your name? Miers! Get your shriveled up ass over here! You are perfect for the job. You have never been a judge, you attended a bunch of pro-life fundraisers, you donated money to that tree hugging shit Gore and you are female. You are female, right?”

Miers moved forward and knelt at Scooter’s feet. “Yes Master! I am female. I serve at your will, Master!”

Scooter, seeing double at this point, placed his hand on one of Miers heads. “You wanna know what the best part is? Your resume lists one of your organizations as the Exodus Ministries! Half of those motherfuckers attended that ex-gay shit and the other half are going to get a fucking hard-on thinking that you are a true gay hating neo-con. I wish I could see their faces when they realize that it’s not the same fucking organization! Ex-cons, right? Whatever, it will piss them off.” Scooter paused for another swig of Jesus juice. “Democrats will hate you no matter what. But those turncoat asshole Republicans will really hate you. Yeah…payback is a bitch! How you like me now, motherfuckers!”

Miers sat on Scooter’s lap as the minions twirled and danced with glee!

Watching the scene on the monitor in the Situation Room (not to be confused with that unfortunate show CNN has foisted on Wolf Blitzer), Karl Rove rubbed his hands over his face.

“Jesus! I am too old for this shit!” he said softly.

“Should we pump in the gas, my darling?” Laura Bush asked rubbing her hand slowly across Rove’s back.

“No. Let him have this one moment. Our master plan is still in play, baby.” Turning away from the monitor Karl embraced Laura and kissed her passionately.

And a bitch shot up in bed! That was nasty as a motherfucker! This bitch snuggled once again beneath my blanket and sighed.

Drifting back to sleep my ass made a mental note to cut back on the CNN viewing…that shit may be essential, but it inspires some freaky assed dreams…