It was the best of times. It was the Obama of times.I had just finished pasting my face onto a hot body as my pussy, Lay Miserables, was purring in my lap thinking how much Sean Hannity would appreciate the artistry of my work as I appeared again, again, again, again, again, again on his program not saying anything.........so a girl has to give the boys something to do to keep their minds off of my blonde.
When suddenly, a claw came at my door, as if someone scratching, scratching at my chamber door, and only this and nothing more.
Was it tiger tiger burning bright in my bush of the night, seeking to run that raspy tongue over the once virginal quarters of the netherworld as I saved myself for that special someone...........
And then I heard it again.........only this it was meow, now again a short meow, a sort of meow not a bow wow, just a meow not the moo of a cow, to this I saw an eye bow, looking, looking in through the keyhole of my chamber door, only this and nothing more.
I saw that eye, I saw it before. It was the eye of teleprompter lore. It was the eye of my blow up doll. I was the eye of my delight, winking, blinking, nodding sight. Knowing me, not just a Noonan girl. Knowing see, an all term girl.
I cuddled under my sleep comfort bed. The way it is firm and oh what a bed. Warm and tight upon a dew damp night..............
There oh there it came again, all that scratching as if some cat scratching, Meowing, purring, telling me, "Don't ask Don't tell" for this burning kitty.
Then the door it opened forth. It was the devil in shadow form. Slightly not like brown bag, but more like tan in an unbleached rag. There I sat nearly petting. Nearly wetting. Nearly setting. To all my kitty wet to explore, only this and something more.
I said, "Don't I know you from my ballot box?"
Silence breathed as a seducing breath.
I said, "Don't I know you from that hot, sweaty, tight, firm, ballot box?"
Silence breathed a breath to seduce me.
I said, "I'm Ann Coulter".....and my words faded away...........like birth certificates I certified.......like the Constitution as a tampon on a menstrual day.
My what big eyes you have............
My what big lips you have.........
My what big man boobs you have..........
My what big............er Lawrence Sinclair was right.............
Now oh now, I had two Chicago made men. The one a blow and the one a Kenyan.
The coquette I played. The coy vixen blonde. The berry for a rush of eib. The tease for Obama oh say can't you see.
My thoughts were many of Karl Rove puffy lips.........of Sean in burka swimming on the shore......of Limbaugh and Elton on a wedding night grasp........of O'Reilly's buttered bald smooth head.......of George Will as my penis..........of Charles Krauthammer and invalid sex.........of all the Tea Partiers I had f*cked over.......of the Birthers screwed.........of the tapped American Dream.
But this was mine, my tiger bright, my dreams of Obama, in my bush tight................tapping lightly with bullets to Osama's head...........scratching sprightly with Reggie Love in bed.
This was all my all, my Bill Ayers tale........it was my pornographic passion.............it was all about my tail.
Kitty, kitty cat claw..........Obama will he get cha?
Kitty, kitty cat claw.........Betray America you bet cha.
This was, it was our first date............of many dates as of late..........as of early when I first cast my vote..........as of now wearing a safe sex coat.
Oh Bearick, rock that derrick.
Oh Barack, rock that coc..................alligator tears for that Texas border moat.
A poi in the hand is worth two in the bush.
When you are a bony hag there is less cush for the push.
The audacity of the grope..........dreams of rockets launching off it's pad, torpedoes launched homing glad...........of steam engine trains puffing along.........of wheels pumping in rhythm in sultry song.
Oh the geyser, oh that Gulf oil gusher gush, oh that foaming ocean lush............what oh what, can this be..........spurted, softened, wilted..............oh it was only just 5 cc's.
Nevada is filled with prostitutes
LA has it's street walking whores
But only here with Obama in Miss Coulter
Is the hooker's trade and nothing more.
Just one more book to trade on the right........from one more page spread of a lady of the night.....many's the room at the Hotel Obamafornia..........mirrors on the ceiling..........pink champagne on ice..........we are all just prisoners here of our own device..........
Listen to the wind blow
Watch the sun rise
Run in the shadows
Damn your love, damn your lies
And if you don't love me now
You will never love me again
I can still here you saying you will never break the chain
agtG
