I'm interviewing George W. Bush for Satan's Journal. But upon hearing that it's a mag for fags and that the interviewer plans to milk his balls, porkpie isn't having any of it.
"Well, it's not like you're immune to false pretenses. Your entire career has been based on false pretenses," I mutter to myself in reference to porkpie.
Even though I'm interviewing George Bush for Satan's Journal, I'm in the offices of Pus Weekly. And the Secret Service isn't amused that I claimed press cred with Christianity Today, either.
"Shitballs," I tell the Secret Service agent, "you could've tapped my ass long ago, but instead, you just assumed I wrote for Christianity Today. What kind of bullshit is that?"
My immediate boss at Pus keeps making flirty glances at the Secret Service agent, too. This unravels me.
"Nina, he's a Republican! Curb your vaginal impulses," I tell her.

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