3.5 readers while everyone is telling their stories I figured I would finally tell mine.
Hillary Clinton touched my hiney.
The year was 1998. Smashing Pumpkins were all the rage and neon clothing was in.
Why was it ever out? A question for another day.
There I was, wearing my multicolored 8 ball jacket, walking down the street, minding my own business.
I’d been listening to Bell Biv Devoe on my CD Walkman for hours and felt it was time to switch things up to Salt N Pepa.
Alas, I dropped my CD holder. The CDs scattered everywhere.
And then, as I bent over to pick up my CDs, I felt it – the First Lady’s hand all over my firm, supple buttocks.
“Mmm yummy!” the former FLOTUS said. “Mama likey!”
“Oh my God!” I cried. “First Lady of the United States Hillary Clinton! Did you just touch my derrière?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny that I touched the alleged hiney in question,” Hillary said. “And youse better not talk to no one about it if you know what’s good for you, see?”
Hillary, who sounded like a 1930s gangster, ran off into the night and left me with my shame.
I dropped to my knees and shouted to the stars, “Why God? Why? Why have you sentenced me to a lifetime of agony due to having my ass touched by the most powerful woman in the world? Could this day get any worse?”
And so I laid there in the street for awhile until a limo pulled up and a man stepped out.
The suit. The hair.
“What’s this whack job doing in the middle of the road?” the Donald said. “I’m Donald J. Trump and I’m on my way to a very important business meeting which I assure you will be very classy and very fantastic. No one holds a better business meeting than I do, OK? I hold them better than they do in China, that’s for sure.”
“Oh,” I said. “Sorry Mr Trump. I was just a bit hysterical because Hillary Clinton just touched my ass.”
“The Hillary Clinton?” Donald asked. “She and her husband are good friends of mine. Excellent friends. I cut checks to them all the time. I’m sure we’ll be friends forever and speaking of Friends, that show is still on the air because it’s the 90s. Ross will never get with Rachel, that much I can tell you. Ross is a loser. He really is. Very low energy.”
“I’ll get out of your way,” I said.
But before I could, I felt the smallest hand ever on my rump.
“This does absolutely nothing for me, just so you know,” Trump said. “Worst hiney I’ve ever touched, ok? You really need to start working out big league.”
I walked away but remained very sad and depressed for the rest of my life. In fact at the time I was about to become the world’s first guitar playing astronaut but the mental pain was so much I had to settle for starting a blog with only 3.5 readers.
Also, my attorney advises me to say this is all just a joke, not true, and never happened.
Bookshelf Battle 