Points Of Entry

My tendons stretch the more I think of Bloomberg. My quads tense up when I look at a picture of Clinton. My abs retract when Orin Hatch struts by.

And so then I got hungry. And thirsty.

I made thousand Perot chicken. I fried Christians in a pit of olive-Obama salade.

And after the meal, I brushed my teeth. I stroked those fine bristles over my ivory bones with Romney mustachio toothpaste especial!

And I drank some water. And it rained...and it was good.