Today, on Halloween, let’s take a break from politics and the presidential race to present a make-believe version of what tonight’s holiday celebration could be like for president senile Joe Biden and his family. The past two Halloweens, the first family has entertained various
costumed guests from the Democrat party in their own little place in the universe (Relive 2021 here and 2022 here), sometimes known as the White House. This year, they’re doing something a bit different.
As he often does, senile Joe got bored with the usual run-of-the-mill Halloween parties and handing out candy to politicians who already dole out plenty of monetary treats to themselves and Democrat donors in addition to woke, America-hating interest groups. So, in 2023, senile Joe decided they’ll leave the candy dispensing to the federal bureaucracy and head out to the DC ‘hood to do a little begging themselves. It’s a Halloween trick-or-treat experience unlike any other!
--Upstairs in the White House family quarters, staff prepares themselves for a busy evening.
“Dr. Jill” Biden enters from a side door and sweetly asks, “You almost ready, honey?” For a costume, the chief executive selected from a large rack what looked like a maternity hospital gown tied in back, which exposed his backside each time he took a stride. He looked ridiculous, yet Dr. Jill stifled her chuckle and didn’t say a word in comment.
“Yup, just a minute, doc”, Joe replied, seemingly in a better mood than recent times. Unaware that the matter had already been settled, senile Joe added, “I don’t wanna host a party this year, Dr. Jill. I need to secure the Washington DC vote for me and you n’ Kamala for the next election, so I feel I should get out there among the people and do a little Trick-or-treating myself. You know, show ‘em that I really can handle another four years on the job by surviving not only a robust walk around town, but also dodging bullets in the Democrat controlled and crime-ridden nation’s capital.”
“That’s not a bad idea, honey, though you gotta make sure the Secret Service doesn’t select any of those ‘MAGA terrorist’ houses to hit up, or we’ll be toast.”
“HA!” senile Joe thundered in response. “Everyone knows there aren’t any Republicans living in DC, Why the heck do you think we chose our home city as the place to try that fiend, Donald Trump? Democrats could convict Jesus here if we just pasted a big red “R” onto his robe! We wouldn’t even need evidence! These people are so in-the-tank for Democrats that it ain’t even funny! But if they don’t see me jog around a little bit, they might start to wonder. Kamala Harris is comin’ up behind me, and I gotta be ready for any challenges!”
Dr. Jill smirked at the mention of Kamala Harris. ‘That clown doesn’t even need a Halloween costume,’ she thought, admiring the woman’s permanent cackle and pasted on grin that’s made her so recognizable to everyone who encounters her. “Here, help me put my beak on,” Dr. Jill commanded.
“Babe, why are you dressed like a duck for gosh sakes?” senile Joe asked his wife incredulously.
“I’ve explained this a thousand times, Joe. It’s not a duck costume. I’m a QUACK, you moron!”
The president guffawed and doubled-over at the explanation, thinking it a wonderful idea. “A ‘quack’ of Education, that’s a hoot!” Joe said. “When’re the rest of ‘em gonna be here? I can’t wait to see Hunter’s and Ashley’s costumes. They’re both so creative, almost as though they dreamed ‘em up in one of their hallucinogenic fantasies!”
At that, the couple made their way downstairs where the presidential limo was waiting for them out front, the windows darkened on the rolling fortress but the reinforced armor shining as usual. The engine was on and the Secret Service attendants appeared ready to go. One of them opened the rear door where the first couple immediately spotted a number of smartly clad trick-or-treaters trying to make room for them.
Daughter Haley sat near the farthest door wearing what looked to be large hoop attached to a shower curtain, kind of like the one Mr. Miyagi put together for Daniel LaRuso in “The Karate Kid” – specifically fashioned to disguise her identity, but also convey a point just for her father. “The only way daddy pays attention to me is when I’m in the shower. Don’t you like it?”, she explained. Upon seeing the costume and hearing Haley's explanation of it, senile Joe shushed his daughter and proceeded to make a racist joke about Japanese people being good at inventions and building stuff.
Hunter was next to her, dressed in a neatly tailored business suit. “Why are you dressed for work, son, we’re goin’ trick-or-treatin’” Joe explained, slightly irked that his only surviving son wasn’t yet ready to go. But Hunter’s getup had a purpose. “One of my connections made me a fake ID that says ‘U.S. Department of Justice’ on it. I’m an FBI agent, Pops! I’ve used this outfit over and over, too, since I’ve been on every ‘raid’ on my dad’s house and properties so as to point the dudes in the right direction – away from the incriminating stuff!
“Just for fun, I also did the Mar-a-Lago visit and tucked a bunch of s—t in Trump’s showers and Melania’s unmentionables drawers. I specifically sought out the women’s undies!” Hunter bragged as he rolled down the window and spit out a sunflower seed shell which barely missed “Commander” the dog.
At the other door was a large bald man (John Fetterman) who didn’t look like a family member. The ogre also wore a business suit similar to Hunter’s, which included a Chucky Schumer-style mask, complete with draw string that could be pulled to hear an actual recording of the Senate Majority Leader saying “You have released the whirlwind, Kavanaugh and Gorsuch, and you will pay the price!” It was utterly frightening.
The guests complimented the sensitive Pennsylvanian and tried to leave sufficient room in the space for his 6’8” frame, which wasn’t easy.
The last party participant was presidential brother James Biden who held a bank’s money bag in this grip and was adorned in traditional Ukrainian garb just in case they came across the house of Volodymyr Zelenskyy on their journey. James hadn’t made a legitimate dime in his life so it wouldn’t be a chore to demand candy – and spare cash – from anyone.
The ragtag group in a fancy motorcade then made their way through the wealthiest section of downtown DC to find an appropriate neighborhood to begin their evening. “Stop where the mansions are biggest, will ya?”, Joe barked to his driver. “Those are bound to be Democrats. The MAGA riffraff lives out in them thar hills of West Virginny, don’t they?”
The driver nodded and did as he was instructed, and the group got out, amping themselves up for the pursuit of sweet loot. Noticing her father’s gown opened in back, Haley giggled and remarked, “Daddy, I haven't seen your backside so much since the days we used to bathe together.”
Dr. Jill shot her daughter a dirty look as the first of the gaggle, Senator John Fetterman, reached the porch of the haunted-mansion-style structure complete with cemetery in the yard and a fully constructed gallows, from which dangled a very authentic looking corpse adorned in Trump 2020 garb. A sign drooped from the body and listed, in exceedingly readable letters, “Behold the awful price of insurrection! Protest the government and ye shall pay with your life!” Senile Joe rang the doorbell. The visitors could hear screams and the rattling of chains from inside, but strangely enough, it didn’t sound like one of those child-scaring Halloween recordings from days of old. It seemed almost too authentic to be true, similar to the cries emanating from the January 6 prison gulag they’d passed on the way over. Weird.
The Bidens and company heard footsteps approaching and the door opened agonizingly slowly to reveal a ghostly and bloodless pale man in glasses, donning a medieval Inquisitor’s hoodie. The man was holding not a basket of candy, but a stack of folded papers that looked a lot like court documents – or subpoenas.
“More interlopers and beggars,” the ashen white bespectacled zombie-like owner said. “Joe? That you? Better button up that rear view, or I’m takin’ you in for indecent exposure. ‘The Squad’ came by about 20 minutes ago. They were dressed as Hamas terrorists. Or it could be that they just wore their normal clothes. I couldn’t tell. Same thing. What’re you doing out on this spooky night?”
“Hey Merrick, I didn’t know you lived here!” senile Joe interjected good naturedly, recognizing his Attorney General who kept indictments, plastic restraints and handcuffs at the ready in case he encountered parents leaving school board meetings or peaceful pro-life abortion protesters along a sidewalk. Garland flashed a ghoulish smile (he looks like an undertaker, doesn’t he?) and explained he had lots to give the visitors, but when the crooked lawman began filling goodie bags with arrest warrants and applications for bail bonds, the guests began sweating and convulsing and growling and wheezing like Regan in “The Exorcist”.
“Lookee here, this one says Trump and January 6th on it!” the creepy AG mumbled proudly, trying to pacify the rough crowd. But Garland’s salty gesture got the best of Hunter, who bolted the scene like so many terrified turkeys scrambling from a butcher at Thanksgiving. Garland bellowed his loudest admonition. “Guards! Catch that boy, then stretch him! No! Rack him! Forget that – catch him, then stretch him… THEN rack him!” Thinking it was just part of the act – it wasn’t -- Dr. Jill tried to calm her stepson, but found it very difficult to speak with her costume beak on, just as she always did when her “quack” nature exposed itself. Haley Biden simply pulled her shower curtain shut and John Fetterman tried to kneel down so as to be barely noticeable, a darn difficult task for a man so tall. Jim Biden perused the visible inside hallway for spare checks. You know, his usual behavior.
Satisfied with their first visit, the official looking entourage then made their way to a slightly different part of the capital, towards a rather unspectacular townhouse in a nice but unpretentious part of town. “What’s this place?” Joe asked, wondering whether the occupants in this discreet abode were even Democrats. There were no “Black Lives Matter” signs displayed or other evidence of being partial to government excess and protection, but they decided to try it anyway.
Knock knock! “We're Democrats -- Give me some stuff and candy, will ya?” the gaggle shouted in unison.
This time the door was opened by someone hardly familiar to any of them, but one of Biden’s Secret Service detail whispered into the president’s ear that the man was James Comer, the Oversight Committee Republican who’d been investigating them all this time and had uncovered a lot of bank records and things. A shudder ran up Biden’s spine realizing that someone in the detachment might’ve set them up.
Comer didn’t look offended at the intrusion, instead inquiring of the group if they were ready to turn themselves in – or at least sit for a one-on-one interview so as to answer questions – something they could never seem to get from brainless mouthpiece Karine Jean-Pierre. “Hey, thanks for showing up, guys! I’ve been trying to get all of you – except maybe for half-brain Fetterman there – to come by my office. While I’ve got you here, can we chat?”
The Bidens reacted in horror at the mention, Hunter the most outwardly distraught at the notion he’d have to tell the truth to someone. “Where’s my crack pipe and my piece?” he asked to the open air, not realizing that he’d just confessed to drug and gun possession crimes right in front of his investigator. Dr. Jill hastily attempted to shoo the Trick-or-treaters off the sidewalk and senile Joe began wandering in the wrong direction, whereby he fell off the curb, landing flat on his nose.
At that point a half dozen Democrat aides came out of nowhere, threatened Comer to stay away from the Bidens or risk a years-long probe targeting him and pushed the gaggle towards the limo again.
Comer said as the Biden group fled the scene, “Didn’t you want to stay long enough to get a Reese’s piece? They’re chocolate and peanut butter, which wouldn’t seem to go together, but it works! It’s kind of like Democrats and honoring their duties or the law, only this time someone really thought up making the combination!”
Seeing Biden’s brother hovering in the background trying in vain to hide behind a very skinny tree sapling, Comer said, “Besides, what were you really looking for, a check for 200 Grand?”
Realizing they only had time for one more stop, the driver was instructed to pick someplace special, so the car headed to another tony part of town to hopefully score some better, tastier treats this time.
A short time later the limo passed through a tightly monitored guard gate and the personnel seemed to recognize who it was. The revelers then spotted a Victorian-style house that, for some reason, looked even more familiar to senile Joe and Dr. Jill. “Say, homies, isn’t that the Naval Observatory? I used to swim naked in the pool there. I know every inch of that place, but why would we come here when we could do Obama’s joint instead… or Nancy Pelosi’s?”
Rather than complain further, the happy trick-or-treaters made their way to the front door, which was all decked out in Halloween decorations, including a scary looking decomposing mummy with loose bandages that some in the group recognized. It must’ve been purchased from Costco, since it’d been on display there for months.
Ding-dong! A nicely adorned woman with a demonic grin and unmistakable laugh appeared, glad that someone had finally slipped past the protective posse and made it all the way to the foyer. Or maybe it was that nobody wanted to visit this residence. That could be too.
“Trick-or-treat!” the bag holders roared in unison. “Oh, how nice!” she replied. “Gee, there’s a duck (“I’m not a duck you idiot, I’m a QUACK!” Shot back Dr. Jill), there’s a ‘Karate Kid’ shower – don’t worry, I won’t chase you and beat you up -- and a young man in an FBI suit. How quaint!” Kamala Harris grinned from ear-to-ear just glad for a chance to be herself again. “And nice to see you again, Chucky Schumer. I sure miss our days in the senate where we didn’t have to beg for treats, they just brought ‘em to us!”
The vice president then reached down into her overstuffed basket of tasty treats and pulled out a half dozen or so candied apples. “I made these myself! The Secret Service wouldn’t let me wrap ‘em, so maybe you should eat on the front veranda there. I promise, I won’t tell anyone. They wouldn’t believe me anyway!”
“No way, lady”, said Dr. Jill in her shrillest ‘I’m warning you’ voice. “I know you’ve been plotting to get rid of my husband. I wouldn’t put a poisoned candy apple past you – you’re from California, aren’t you? If you don’t get us some wrapped treats, we’re leaving!”
“Okay, okay," Kamala answered back, visibly put off by Dr. Jill’s reference to California. “I’ve got some weed laced brownies back there coated with Saran Wrap somewhere if these won’t do.” Hunter beamed an approving look.
“Right from the Golden State itself. Maybe if Joe won’t take a shot of booze or drink a beer he’ll at least go with a weed brownie. Maybe we can even add it to ice cream, Joe!” The vice president did a little dance and twirled around a couple times, thankful for her brainstorm – or any original thought at all.
As would be expected, Hunter took particular interest in both the candied apples and the weed brownies. He’d ingested enough toxins over the course of his lifetime, so he figured even if the apples weren’t wrapped that he’d be immune from whatever’s in there. Since the group didn’t want theirs – the apples or the brownies – he simply gobbled them all and slowly drifted backwards, falling into the usual, and welcome, self-induced high coma.
Just like he did at the ceremony to meet the Afghanistan casualties, senile Joe glanced at his watch and semi-panicked as he recognized they’d already been out over a couple hours already. The Bidens realized, as every wealthy Democrat schlep does, that it isn’t safe to be out past dark in DC no matter how many guns are guarding you.
“Lets get outta here!” Joe screeched as he thought he saw a horde of rioters heading their way, but it was really just a collection of illegal aliens fresh off the bus from some red border state, setting up their tents on Kamala’s lawn.
“Oh good, compassion works”, senile Joe stuttered. “There’re more Democrat ballots. I hope they get signed up in time to vote next year!”
Thus endeth the Biden Halloween, 2023.
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