Hillary Clinton sat in a coffee shop with a a group of supporters in New Hampshire. “Isn’t this nice: Meeting with regular folks. That’s my favorite part of campaigning.”
One man looked at her unconvinced. “Then why do look ready to claw your own face?”
Hillary’s smile started fading. “It’s just…” She paused to collect herself. “I…” Here’s eyes started misting. “I just…” She began crying. “This campaigning had been so… sob… hard on me.”
“I’m sorry,” the man said. “I didn’t mean it. Please stop crying.”
Tears were streaming down her face. “Everyone… sob… has been… sob… so mean to me.”
“Well, we all like you here,” one person said. “Don’t we?” Everyone in the coffee shop agreed. “So there’s no reason to cry.”
“People just think… sob… the worst of me… sob… because all I ever wanted… sob… is unlimited power.”
“No no. We know that’s natural for a woman to want. Please stop crying.”
“It’s just that all… sob… the anger against me… sob… is hard to take… sob… I keep praying… sob… to a higher power… sob… for it to stop… sob… but it never lets up… sob… and I’m beginning to wonder… sob… if there really is a Satan.”
A woman nearby patted her on the back. “There is and he’s listening to you. It’s all going to be okay.”
“People seem to think… sob… I’m some naive liberal… sob… they thought… sob… I was going to accidentally screw up… sob… healthcare in America… sob… with my plan… sob… but really… sob… I was going to destroy it on purpose… sob… to spread suffering.”
“We know that,” a man told her. “We know you’re devious and not naive.”
“And I’ve worked… sob… so hard… sob… to be president… sob… my whole life… sob… and now that’s going to be… sob… taken away from me… sob… by a colored man… sob… with the name of homicidal dictator.”
“No! That’s not going to happen,” another woman assured her. “The country is still racist; they’ll never vote for Obama.”
The waiter came by the table. “Um… Can I get you something Senator Clinton?”
She tried to wipe away her tears. “I’d like… sob… a caramel… sob… macchiato.”
“Oh, um… I’m afraid we’re out of caramel.”
Hillary started crying even louder.
“Is there anything else I can get you?” he asked in a panic. “Anything at all?”
“What I really like… sob… but most places don’t have it… sob… is the blood… sob… of a new born baby.”
“There’s a hospital just a block away and I know where the nursery is. Just please stop crying and I’ll be back in a minute.” The waiter ran out the door.
“I think I better… sob… leave and get… sob… a handle on myself.” She stood up and began to slowly walk away from the table.
Bill O’Reilly ran over and knocked her down to the floor. “Stop blocking my shot of Obama!”
“I’m… sob… sorry.”
“Shut up and stop the crying! You’re messing up the recording of me shouting at people!”
Hillary crawled away into the corner and just sat there crying.
“Is there anything we can do to cheer you up?” one woman asked.
“You could… sob… tell me… sob… a joke.”
“Well… um… what’s black and white and red all over?”
“I don’t… sob… know.”
“A penguin with a sunburn.”
Hillary stopped crying, and soon a cackle began to form inside her and grow until she cackled so loud that small children five counties over began crying for no reason.
The patrons of the coffee shop stood back in fear. “Are you sure you’re done crying?”