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"Man! You're trash!" yelled Trump, laughing at Obama after he placed second in the previous match.
"Yeah! That guy was dogshit too," chimes Biden from across the room.
"GUYSSS WHAT THE FUCKKKK," complains Obama, trying (but failing) to defend his utterly pathetic loss.
As for me, I'm sitting on the couch of the Oval Office, phone in hand as I idly play League of Legends (I'm a fucking loser). As the boys start to ready up for the next game, I hear the familiar ticking of party hips playing on the TV. I glance up at the screen, only to see Obama’s character shaking those luscious hips, and my train of thought goes completely flying out the window. I stare, drool running down my chin, and my eyes bulging out of my head, as I take in everything about the voluptuous fortnite girl.
She has her hair messily pushed back into a backwards baseball cap. It’s black, along with the rest of her outfit. She sports a pair of sunglasses and a mask that covers almost all of her face, and it just makes her allure even stronger.
But...
The booty...
The scrumptious...
Delicious...
JUICY BOOTY.
It’s a sight to behold. Even Tom Holland himself would quake in the presence of this luscious dumpy. And when she gets down and dirty in a mud puddle? Dear God, I just ascend. The way the mud sticks just right to every curve, highlighting her majestic cheeks, making them glisten in the soft glow of the pixelated sun. It’s enough to make me go weak in the knees. But nothing lasts forever. As I’m salivating over this four-course meal, I feel the edges of my vision start to fade. Before I know it, everything goes dark.
BEEP...
BEEP...
BEEP...
“...Huh?” I mutter groggily as I start to come to my senses. I’m in fucking hell. And I don’t mean Britain. “Paige, you’re finally here!” The Queen yells happily, dapping me up.
“What happened to me?” I asked her.
“Paige...” she responds.
“You had a heart attack and now you’re in hell.”
Huh.
I guess looks can kill.