October 12, 2016
“Now, as you know, this show prides itself on helping our viewers become more informed and active in the political process by exposing them to a wide range of guests who toe the liberal line,” said Neil Neilserson, the talk show host I just made up. “To that end, I’d like to welcome our next guest, presidential candidate Jacob Stanton.”
Jacob went on stage, waved to the crowd, then shook the host’s hand and gave him that phony hug that guests always give late night talk show hosts. Then they did that stupid faux joking around shtick and Jacob sat down.
“How are you this evening, Mr. Stanton?” the host asked.
“I’m good, Billy,” Jacob responded.
“The name is Neal,” the host said, spelling his own name wrong and apparently not realizing that he was an unimportant side character only added to advance the plot and that his name could be changed by the narrator on a whim and was now Dickhead McDickerson.
“Whatever,” Jacob said, also not caring about Cockhead’s name.
“So, did you have a good trip?” asked the host.
“It was alright, but traffic was a little backed up on the bridge coming in.”
“Oh, yeah, there was a fire on it about a week ago. I think they’re still down to one lane.”
“It’s a pain in my ass.”
“Well, the important thing is that nobody got hurt.”
“I don’t know,” Jacob said. “That’s what they said about 9/11.”
The host stared at Jacob for a solid minute. “What?”
“Yeah, well, you know. That’s what they said after the 9/11 attacks, but then years later all these people start developing emphysema or some shit. So, it turns out that people did get hurt after all. It just took time to realize this.”
The host stared at him for a good minute. “Moving on. Now, your campaign was recently hit by some controversy in the form of a twitter war, is that correct?”
“See, I told you. Gotcha journalism,” Jacob said, standing up and ripping his microphone off. “I come on your show, and you bust out the ambush about all the prostitutes I’ve slept with. You people make me sick.”
“Uh, Mr. Stanton,” the host, Billy Bilsonhost or whatever, said, “your campaign manager specifically asked us to bring that up. The whole reason you’re on this show is to give you an opportunity to address this issue. Remember?”
“Oh, right,” Jacob said, sitting back down. “What were we talking about?”
“Your twitter fight with an alleged prostitute.”
“Not alleged. She is a prostitute. Anyway, she was all on twitter, talking about our relationship and claiming that I hadn’t paid her the last time.”
“And of course, since there was no relationship, this offended you,” the host said, completing Jacob’s thoughts.
“No, that’s dead wrong, actually. Of course we had a relationship. Who hasn’t used at least one prostitute at some point in their life?”
“A lot of people, I would imagine.”
“And it’s possible I didn’t pay her. I will admit to that. I was so high on so many drugs that night, I don’t think I knew which way was up. But I always make good, eventually. There are like three girls, all through the same agency, that I like. I’m obviously not going to torpedo my relationship with them. I mean, what am I going to do? Have sex with my wife?”
“Right, well, these are some high end girls. It’s not like I was banging some Lady Gaga lookalike on the street corner. They have agencies, so they were going to get paid eventually. But then she starts running her mouth about having a sex tape with me.”
“And this upset you?”
“Well, the fact that she had the tape, no. I knew that. After all, I’m the one who sent it to her.”
“Sure. I sent one out to everyone last year. I was wearing a Santa hat, so I sent those instead of Christmas cards. I got one, Rock got one, my wife got one. Shit, I think I even sent one to great aunt Bernice, and I don’t even have a great aunt. I just sent it to some random old lady in the nursing home.”
“Okay,” said the host, taking a deep breath, “so what was the problem then?”
“First off, she called the sex tape ‘Bill Cosby-esque’. It was nothing like a Bill Cosby sex tape. She was conscious the whole time. Secondly, she was releasing an abbreviated version. It was like five minutes long. That’s slander. I can’t have people thinking I’m some sort of minute man out there.”
“I understand,” said the host, though he didn’t. He just thought it would make things go smoother to say that. Scumbag media. “After all this, why should people still vote for you?”
“Come on, nutsack. Voters know they can’t trust Hillary.”
“Bitch is left-handed. How can you trust someone who’s left-handed? You know who else was left handed? Hitler.”
“I don’t think there’s any evidence to support either of those assertions, and even so, it would be irrelevant.”
“That’s exactly what I would expect from the leftist media’s propaganda machine.”
“Either way, there’s still Donald Trump.”
“Jason, Jason, Jason,” Jacob said condescendingly, shaking his head. “You know he’s hiding something. Now I’ve released my sex tape. Everyone knows the size of my cock. He won’t release his. What’s that tell you?”
“He doesn’t have a sex tape?”
“Or it isn’t as big as he says. Either way, he can’t be trusted until he releases his tapes. I’ve released mine.”
“A prostitute did, but anyway, that’s all the time we have. A special thanks to our special guest, Mr. Jacob Stanton.”