Christmas Eve In The White House
T’was the night before Christmas and throughout the White House,
Not much was happening, they were all partied out.
‘Chelles stockings were hung by the mantle with care,
Too drunk to remember just who’d put them there.
Her husband was working, well that’s what he said,
He was instructing the young man sharing his bed.
The sweet smell of Ganja wafted around,
He touched his lips with a finger, listening for sound.
When happy that no one was creeping around,
He continued to toke on the joint he had ‘found’.
The moon shone so brightly, it was pretty but cold,
‘Chelle looked in the mirror “My God I look old”.
“Where is my broomstick?” She asked looking round,
“Start searching, start searching, it has to be found.”
Distinctly fed up and needing a leak,
The first dog cocked its leg as she started to speak,
“Find me my broomstick” She slurred spinning round,
First dog looked surprised as she fell to the ground.
Then all of a sudden came a hell of a noise,
Bill Gates had arrived bringing all the girls toys.
First dog turned its head to one side and then growled,
Not liking the way the Gates creature prowled.
“Ho ho ho” he yelled as he walked through the door,
The first dog just eyed him, as did ‘Chelle from the floor.
“Oh Billy you came” She grinned looking up,
“Who told you?” Said her husband, “Yo Billy wassup?”
“I said Billy not Barry, so, where have you been?”
“Oh just in the bedroom calling a queen”.
‘Chelle got to her feet brushed her hand through her hair,
Swaying and grinning she was too pissed to care,
That the pretty young man with a pout like Monroe,
Was whispering to Barry that he had to go.
“Soon” Said the Pres as he waved him goodbye,
“But Sir” Said an agent, “He’s gay and he’s high
If he breathes a word Sir your goose is so cooked”
“What he’s trying to say” added Bill “Is you’re fucked”
“You can say that again” Said the Pres with a grin,
As an aide passed a glass with a large Jack therein.
“We need to get moving” Said Bill sitting down,
“There’s still plans to make, stop fooling around,
Don’t forget who you are, or forget who I am,
You’re just the puppet, but me, I’m the man”.
The mood was more sombre, ‘Chelle tottered away,
She had guests there tomorrow to share Christmas day.
The powerful, the rich, the great and the strong,
The new era was coming it wouldn’t be long.
With drugs in the water and drugs in the food,
Even the awake would soon be subdued,
They think that they’re safe, hoarding their beans,
But Billy would get them by fair or foul means.
But she knew he was right there was much left to do.
So she left them together, the puppet and master,
To plan for a New year of total disaster.
When millions would die of an unknown disease,
And all of the nations would drop to their knees,
They’d pray for a cure and beg for salvation,
And all would bow low before this great nation.
Soon she’d be leaving for pastures anew,
With Barry, the girls and first dog would go too,
For Europe was theirs, they would live life like kings,
With serfs to do all the menial things.
She’d taken the cure, she’d had the injection,
A new life awaited, enough introspection.
With the virus in place there’d be no big fight
“Happy Christmas dear slaves, thank you Billy, goodnight”
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Contributed by Chris Carrington of The Daily Sheeple.
Chris Carrington is a writer, researcher and lecturer with a background in science, technology and environmental studies. Chris is an editor for The Daily Sheeple. Wake the flock up!