The Mission
There was a certain irony in what happened next, as Kamala and Hillary sipped cocktails at the Cliff House, looking over the barren landscape that had once been the Pacific Ocean.
Kamala slammed the table with both hands. “What I can’t get out of my friggin’ head is that they were supposed to return from that mission by the end of August, but they didn’t get back until nearly October!”
“Kamala,” Hilary replied, “You know as well as I do that re-entering the atmosphere is a bitch these days. But I heard from a reliable source that Biden found the saucer. His son has been put on the board of the company that is back engineering the technology.”
Kamala drummed the table with polished nails and chuckled snidely in reply. “Number one. You ought to know by now that Billy boy is not a reliable source, girl friend, and, number two, that saucer went down in 2014 near Greenland, just before old ham-hands decided to run for office the first time, and number three, the creatures were extremely rude, highly sexual considering they completely lacked external genitalia, and were covered in fine orange hair! Do the math.”
“I don’t know, Kam,” sighed Hilary wearily, “Donald is a lot of things, but I don’t think he’s a hybrid. Bernie maybe, but not the Donald.”
