Bill came in first, then Hillary. Hillary spoke first.
“Aiight nigga, it’s over,” she said.
“Look Bernie, you’re a nice man,” Bill added. “We appreciate what you did for the party, you really galvanized a lot of support among the young people…”
“Take all your campaign shit down,” Hillary said. “Put it in these boxes I’ma have some movers bring in.”
“A lot of your ideas were really revolutionary,” Bill said. “We were impressed with your moxie and your spirit and your ‘Never say die’ attitude.”
“The only question left,” Hillary began, “Is do we do this with $10,000 or do we do this with Luca Brasi?”
Bernie struggled to speak. He cleared his throat. Finally, he asked hoarsely, “Where’s Barack?”
“He’s out in the hall,” Bill said. “He doesn’t like to be around if things look like they’re going to get messy.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Hillary interrupted, “It’s been that way for the past 8 years. So what’s your answer gonna be, Bern? Are you a ‘Reasonable Man’?”
“We really do have exciting plans for my wife’s administration,” Bill said.
“Perhaps the Vice Presidency for me then?” Bernie asked hopefully.
“Fuck no,” Hillary scoffed. “I’m tryna win.”
“We were thinking Michelle Obama but she’s taking a while to convince,” Bill said.
“So what happens to me?” Bernie asked, his nerve returning.
“That all depends on you,” Bill said simply. “You see Bernie, may I call you ‘Bernie’?”
“Bernie”, Bill continued, “When our friends are loyal, we’re loyal in return. With other friends… like, lets say for example, we once had a friend named Vince Foster…”
“I was just trying to make sure that Bernie knows how serious this is,” Bill said.
“He knows it’s serious,” Hillary said. “Chelsea’s got his whole campaign team at gunpoint.”
“Guys,” Bernie said in a low voice, “what is it you need me to do?’
“Get us some of your voters,” Hillary said.
“Doesn’t have to be them all or even, really a lot,” Bill added. “Just enough to keep Trump off balance and to keep all the talk of radical changes be about our campaign.
“What if Trump does something radical?” Bernie asked.
“What?” Hillary snorted. “Show up in public with out his toupee?” — which she pronounced “toop” like it was “poop”, “coup” or “soup” with a ‘T’.
“Yeah,” Bernie said flatly.
“Thought about that,” Bill said quickly. “We’ve got a man in the Trump campaign that’ll either shoot a dry hunk of hair aboard Trump’s top the moment he loses his sky…”
“Or,” Hillary interrupted. “We’ve got a graffiti guy with orange spray paint that can airbush anything even hair follicles. He’s Trump’s head of security. We can’t afford to have the Republican Candidate look bad.”
“No,” Bill agreed. “That would get him sympathy votes. Prove the ‘liberal media was out to get him’ by even playing in his hair.”
Bernie eyed them both.
It was clear that they had finished talking.
It was time for him to make a decision about an offer he couldn’t refuse.