Dear Penthouse Forum,
I am normally not the kind of person who would write in, but a recent steamy experience with America’s number one sexpot bigot was so hot and sultry I just had to share it with your readers.
It was a cold, rainy April morning, and I had gone into IHOP for some waffles. While I waited for my food I tried to focus on the front section of my Philadelphia Inquirer. Bad news was plastered all over the page, huge retractions of the economy, more Arab war, berserk monkeys being shot dead in the street by police. It was more than I wanted to read and I folded the paper up and looked out the window over my fellow patrons.
It was a quiet morning at this particular IHOP, and the clientele was typically discrete; but one women caught my eye. She was very gaunt and angular, a wiry blonde bag of bones picking distractedly at a fruit salad. She was wearing a white blouse, and there was something very familiar in the way she looked. “Ye, Gods!” I thought. “That’s Ann Coulter!”
I couldn’t quite wrap my head around what this bilious woman was doing in an IHOP at 10 am on a Thursday outside Toledo, OH, but I was bored and thought I might flirt with her a bit. I slowly got up and walked over to her booth. She flicked her eyes up and down my body as I approached and quickly looked away. A positive sign, I thought.
“Hello there,” I said. “I ran out of syrup for my Belgian Waffle, I was wondering if I could borrow yours.” She smiled coyly and let her fingers run ever so subtly across the hem of her open blouse.
“Of course,” she replied. “Take as much as you need.”
“What has you so distracted over here,” I asked. “You seem like you have something on your mind.”
“It’s just these fucking sissy liberals and their stimulus package have me in such a huff.”
“Yeah, but sometimes we could all use a pork-laden stimulus package. Thanks for the syrup.” I could see a visible shutter run through her body at my witty entendre before I turned away and returned to my booth Ann Coulter’s syrup for my waffle
[Writer’s Note: This seemed like a funny idea when I woke up this morning, (especially given this report), but I have no desire to write the next part of it now, I just don’t feel up to it… the rest of my notes are below, which gives some crude indication of the direction this was going to take. But screw it.]
Hold on, I want to film this.
I’ve been in a deflationary period
“I’ve just been thinking about pork-laden stimulus packages,” she said as I caressed her breast.
As I thrust her over the IHOP’s bathroom sink from behind I leaned over and whispered into her ear “I believe in a progressive taxation schedule.” This threw her into a frenzy, but I held on
I know what this racist pig wants,