Oh, for an elegantly bound, 100 page literary journal to properly showcase the staggering creativity displayed by your Romney Hamptons fundraiser fan fiction entries.
If ingenuity were dollars, you are all literary Koch Brothers. And like the Koch Brothers, you are all winners. Two final thoughts: One) Our deep and abiding thanks, you guys really are amazing and Two) Rest up. Another fan fiction challenge is on its way very soon. I picked a few juicy ones for this post, but really, I couldn’t possibly go wrong here.
“Mint Throckmorton gunned the engine on her deep blue Lamborghini as she waited, impatiently, for entry to the Romney fundraiser in the best part of the Hamptons. She didn’t do waiting well, though at least she derived some pleasure from the idea that her car - and its wastefulness - would drive environmentalists mad. Nothing made Mint happier than the idea of pissing off her lessers - which to her mind included environmentalists and just about everyone else.
It had been a long road to this point. Tossed from the best schools, aimless in any pursuit, her parents despaired of her. Then an arranged internship at Bain Capital changed her life. Mindy became Mint, for the ice that flowed through her veins as she rose to Head of Acquisitional Outsourcing. She was ruthless in her dealings, utterly callous and stunning in her brutality when it came to upending the lives of anyone and everyone who dared stand in her way. The art of the deal was one thing, but if it came with the bonus of crushing someone else, all the better.
Now she was ready to give back to those who had given her so much. Mint was among her people. She was home.”
Mike in Michigan
As soon as the words escaped her lips, a sudden doubt consumed her.
“Are we really VIP?” she pondered. “Well, of course we are VIP, but in this crowd everyone is Very Important. Are we V-VIP? If there is a V-VIP entrance and we were not informed of it, then perhaps we are not.”
Her gleaming smile faded. Only the Botox injections kept her from a visible frown.
Her anger began to rise as she noticed a BMW two cars ahead of her in the queue. Knowing that these feelings often caused her to blotch, she closed her eyes and requested the volume be turned up on the Bentley’s stereo. No blotches should detract from her perfect Prada neckline. She would only open her eyes to gaze down at her bejeweled wrist. They would quickly realize she mattered in this race. It took all of her resources to maintain this calm when the guard at the gate asked her husband his name. “Who the hell is minding the gate? Does he have any…” She remembered her appearance, checked herself in the mirror and told herself, “Romney will make this all more tolerable for us.”