Halloween Night at the White House, senile Joe Biden sits by the fire in the library struggling to stay awake so as to enjoy another meal and ice cream served by those gentle but firm people in formal attire who always patronize him without being prompted.
Dr. Jill enters and cheerfully inquires, “Say, Joe, why don’t you take a break from your latest nap or perusal of classified documents and turn on the White House outdoor lights, throw open the front door and host trick-or-treaters for our last Halloween as masters of the big executive mansion,” Dr. Jill said, trying to sound upbeat and enthusiastic while wiping a tear from her eye and cursing as her makeup begins running from the incessant trail of bile from her gut.
For a long time – or at least since mid-July – the Bidens had dreaded the coming of fall. Not only would it be the final time the clan could deck out the White House in whatever scary Democrat party adornment they chose, Halloween comes just a few days before the dreaded Election Day, this time without the cantankerous old fart’s name appearing prominently on the nation’s ballots.
“No joke, those dang Founding Fathers purposely planned Election Day to fall right by Halloween,” Joe mumbled to no one in particular. “That way, Democrats could dress up like real human beings and campaign as though they planned to help people rather than win elections by branding their opponents as Hitler, spending lots of big donor money and going around telling whoppers about how they’ll ‘follow the law’ when asked if they want to pay for transgender surgeries for illegal aliens in prisons,” the mind-challenged old coot said.
“Halloween is the one day a year where you can pretend to be something you’re not and Americans will not only celebrate you, they’ll vote for you! Instead of handing out candy, we can distribute already filled-in ballots for revelers who knock at the door. Call up Hunter and tell him to get over here right away. He’s not in jail yet, is he? It wouldn’t be Halloween without ‘im,” Joe added hopefully.
The First pair mounted the grand staircase and slowly (because of Joe) made their way up to the main level expecting to find a mostly empty corridor staffed by a couple Secret Service sentries standing guard, protecting against any MAGA would-be assassins lurking to cut short his final few months at the House. But conservatives wouldn’t even think of political violence, so no guard was necessary.
Instead, Dr. Jill and senile Joe spotted cackling Kamala Harris and hubby Doug Emhoff peering around a doorway right at the Bidens, who didn’t appear to notice them at first. The unwelcome Democrat interlopers were poorly hidden behind a bust of one of the historic figures in the house they’d employed to conceal their presence. But try as she might, Kamala couldn’t stifle a loud giggle, exposing their presence to the landlords.
“Dang, Dougie! I told you not to tickle me when I’m not expecting it!” Kamala complained, still smiling maniacally under Halloween makeup. “Besides, I thought I picked out the perfect costumes/disguises for us. I’m dressed as an illegal alien sex trafficking victim and you, well, you blend in perfectly as a transgender freak with fake boobies. And instead of saying ‘Trick or Treat,’ I would ask for amnesty and a driver’s license, and you would, well, take your top off.”
Doug looked irritated, like he was going to strike the woman, which has been known to happen when the misogynistic playboy was irritated. “Dammit, Kamala,” the possible future second husband paused to readjust his fake rack. “We both agreed that the only way we were ever going to enter the White House was to sneak in to it and avoid detection. Now we’re screwed,” Doug followed up with a frown.
Then, noticing Dr. Jill standing near the door, Dougie impulsively leaned over and planted a lengthy kiss on her lipstick-less lips, startling the woman who wasn’t anticipating the warmth at that moment. This wasn’t the State of the Union address, after all. “Oops, I’m sorry lady,” Emhoff whimpered. In this low light, you looked exactly like our former nanny from my previous marriage. She and I had to run around and kiss whenever the coast was clear, and for a second there, I thought it was.”
Dougie could scarcely contain his raging hormones but did so upon receiving the dirtiest of looks from his Democrat nominee wife, who added a sharp elbow to his solar plexus to emphasize the point – and inflict great pain. ‘That’ll teach him’, Kamala thought. ‘That’s the move I intend to use when he cheats on me.’
Realizing that it would be rude for him to expel the possible future rulers of the country on this Halloween night, senile Joe growled and uttered, “As long as you’re here, you might as well stay. You can help hand out treats to the visitors. You’ve got to be good for something, Kamala. You’ve embarrassed us all recently with your pathetic word salad answers and inability to lie convincingly about what you/I did during our time here at the helm.
“I thought it was Trump supporters who are the ‘garbage’ ones. Stop acting like trash, man.“Bend down in your best submissive pose and keep that trap of yours shut and let Jill and I do the hard work, like you’ve been doing since Inauguration Day,” Joe instructed. “Dougie, put your slobbery tongue back in your mouth and step to the side and try to blend in.”
Emhoff dutifully did as he was ordered, used to taking commands from brainless Democrat politicians with oversized egos.
Diiinnngggg-Dooonnnnggg went the doorbell. “Let’s go to work,” Joe yapped at Dr. Jill. She grimaced at the edict.
Opening the door, the first couple saw what looked like a white red neck dressed up in hunting gear. Or was it a football coach’s ensemble? The oddly outfitted man also sported a patch paying homage to Chairman Mao and Xi Jinping. To complete the set, he carried an expensive foreign manufactured shotgun that he was trying hard to load, but failed.
“Ah, Tim Walz! Thanks so much for stopping by!” senile Joe shouted in his usual voice, unable to account for his hearing loss. “Love the costume, Tampon Tim. I notice you’ve got a couple tampons tucked into a pocket for extra identification purposes! Don’t worry. We’re ready in case a transgender female shows up and needs to use the restroom!”
Walz grinned as he threw up his hands in the air and clapped as though he were just entering the space to deliver a speech at a rally, barking like a trained sea lion at an aqua show.
“Very funny, Tampon Tim,” Biden howled. “But this year, we’re not having a party. Just give him his take of checks from the Democrat war chest over there and send him on his way. Since you guys kicked me out of my reelection effort, I’ve declared that there shouldn’t be any more merriment or happiness. Now grab the loot and go,” senile Joe stated and looked around for the nearest exit where no one would notice they were hosting trick-or-treaters.
Just as Biden was about to sit down to save what was left of his energy, the doorbell rang again. Cracking the door this time, the octogenarian Delawarean noticed the figure of a witch, her gnarled fingers held up to disguise her nose that had a large wart on it.
“Say, cute little girl. Come closer so I can give you a hug, sniff your hair and rub your shoulders a little bit, will ya? I love kids. Some people say I love ‘em too much, but I used to help my daughter in the shower,” Biden said matter-of-factly.
Then, finally recognizing the old crone, “Nancy Pelosi, what are you doing here?” senile Joe and Dr. Jill said in unison, both members of the withering power couple disgusted that the traitor who’d engineered the coup that drove them out of power would have the gall to show her face at The White House. “I thought I made it clear that I was never going to speak to you again, Nance. You ruined my legacy. You tanked our party. That cackling idiot over there (gesturing to Kamala Harris) is gonna lose to Trump by double digits. What are we gonna do then?” Joe wondered to the empty space.
“Beyond that, you’re not even wearing a costume and this is Halloween! No Democrat money for you! I hope you get struck by the same kook who took out Paul at your house in the gay bay!”, the embittered old soul raged, not able to suppress his legendary temper at the unforgivable slights.
Realizing she wasn’t among friends there, without a word, Pelosi did as she was told, turned around and exited. Just out of view, she mounted her broom and took off, her silhouette temporarily visible against the full moon. A black cat hissed, frogs sounded off and somewhere nearby, a werewolf was heard, howling. It was spooky. Pelosi did her best sinister laugh, which caused cackling Kamala to add her own witchy impression, honed through many years of practice.
Noting that it was getting late – at least for him – senile Joe was about to kick Kamala and Emhoff out with a warning to not return when just then, Barack Obama and wife Michelle appeared at the opening. The Obamas had always particularly enjoyed Halloween, glorifying in the one night a year where they could purposely obscure their identities – and then scare children and adults without political repercussions.
Besides, Barack figured, if he could get a rise out of Biden, he might feel better about the way his old chum was summarily booted out of the Democrat nomination at his insistence. But getting a reaction from Biden was easier said than done these days, the bitter career politician still livid and delusional at being denied his chance to challenge Donald Trump again – and beat him to preserve his lifelong perfect election win record.
“Trick or frickin’ treat, Joe,” the tall graying man said in greeting. Me n’ Michelle were trying to figure out what to do tonight and we thought you might appreciate a visit on your final Halloween in this drafty old haunted house. Where are the cobwebs? Sheesh, we used to not have to decorate much it was so rundown when we were stuck living here.”
Then, Michelle interjected. “Barack, what’s the deal? Why are ghosts always depicted as white? That’s racist. Didn’t you see (the movie) ‘Ghost’? There were lots o’ ghostly brothers and sisters in that flick, and I’m not even talkin’ about Whoopie Goldberg. We need to diversify spook-dom a little bit. Or a lot. We need transgender ghouls, Asian zombies and banshees that have pigment, too. Or how about ‘Queers for Palestine’?
“What did Bibi Netanyahu say? That’s about the same as having something like ‘Chickens for KFC?’ Michelle concluded serenely.
Barack looked irritated when his wife spoke out of turn, like she always does in their retirement. “KFC? That actually sounds yummy, honey. Let’s blow this popcorn stand and make like a tree… and get outta here.”
Barack Obama is so “woke” he could even make nerd language sound cool.
Senile Joe just stood there with his mouth open and the others present couldn’t tell if he was just making his usual catatonic stare or his brain had finally locked and it was time to remove him to the care facility a few months ahead of his initial check-in date, which is January 20, 2025.
Just as Dr. Jill moved to slam the door shut, they discerned what appeared to be a vagrant woman struggling towards the mansion. “Quick! Hurry up! We don’t want any, okay?” Senile Joe leaped from his stupor, not wishing to extend the evening any longer to help another destitute victim of Biden-omics.
The hooded woman approached undeterred, threw off her covering and revealed what appeared to be a grotesque Kamala Harris mask complete with spoiled word salad remnants and a grin so twisted the face seemed like it was in its electoral death throes. In a voice vaguely familiar to them, Hillary Clinton continued “Trick or treat! I’m Kamala Harris! She’s gonna lose the election, just as I did, and it was too tempting to keep away tonight. What government goodies do you got for me? A $25,000 check for a house? A voucher for a taxpayer funded abortion? A bag of loot to pay for a transgender surgery for an illegal alien prisoner?”
Kamala and Dougie chafed at the old woman’s insinuation that dressing up as Kamala Harris implied that you were a loser. How nervy of the 2016 Democrat nominee! Just because she’d been campaigning for the Harris ticket doesn’t mean they’re all friendly now. Far from it.
“If you wanted to be a winner,” senile Joe expounded, “You shouldda wore a Trump mask. That’s all the treat you’d ever need, Crooked Hill. We’ll find out what it feels like to have Donald Trump retake this house in a little less than a week.
“For now, it’s past my bedtime. Hillary, Kamala and Dougie, you gotta vacate the premises, or we’ll sick the Biden dog on you. Or Hunter. Either way, you’re gonna end up with bite marks on your rear end. No joke. We’ll see you all for the Election Night non-celebration. Show them out, Karine (Jean-Pierre).
“Happy Halloween!”
Joe Biden economy
inflation
Biden cognitive decline
gas prices,
Nancy Pelosi
Biden senile
Kamala Harris candidacy
Donald Trump campaign
Harris Trump debates
J.D. Vance
Kamala vice president
Speaker Mike Johnson
Donald Trump assassination
Donald Trump
2024 presidential election
Tim Walz
I know this is supposed to be satire but I could actually see every last bit of this happening. It sounds almost too realistic to be satire.