I'd Like To Have A Queef With You: Kamala's Nightmare

(This author takes full responsibility for typos)

A rough night, well that was an understatement. After staying up all night for election results, Kamala Harris could not sleep. So many thoughts were running through her mind at breakneck speed, trying to figure out what went wrong. She was overtired, yet wired from the emotions of election day as well as being psychologically beaten. She couldn't even muster energy to cackle. In the privacy of her bedroom, she was lying down in bed under the blanket, yet her eyes were wide open. Suddenly, she became startled by what sounded like a voice emanating from under her bed. It definitely wasn't her husband's voice. Could it be a walkie-talkie accidently left on the floor from her Secret Service detail? She quickly threw off the blanket and stood up, then turned on the light. At that moment, she felt her vagina let out a strong queef. She looked downward at her crotch. Another queef. Then another and another. "What's going on down there?" she thought herself. Suddenly, another group of rapid queefs, but this time they quickly morphed into coherent English. "Girl, you fucked up!" said her vagina. For a moment, Kamala thought she was dreaming. But who could think that you're dreaming while dreaming? Realizing she wasn't, she stood there flabbergasted and at a loss for words.

     "Are you just going to stand here and mope?" said her vagina.

     "This can't be happening!" she replied.

     "I've been talking to other vaginas.

     "What? You can't do that!" Kamala insisted.

     "You've been acting like a dick. We want a word with you!"

     "We? How can you talk to other vaginas!” Kamala demanded.

     "I'll tell you,” said her vagina.

Her vagina explained that queefing isn’t just expelling air: it’s a language unbeknownst to everyone but other vaginas. It’s a vaginal Morse Code in which no one has been able to break. Even Navajo Code Breakers were stumped. Vaginas talk amongst themselves even when sleeping. Like whales, their language can be heard throughout an entire ocean. On land, across continents.

     "I've been given special permission by Queen Cunt to break our silence." Kamala needed a moment to take all this in.

     Curious, Kamala asked, "I thought women would come out and vote en mass for me with their vaginas?"

     "Honey! Does it look like these labia's are a pair of hands? The best it can do is flap in the wind like a flag. Talking about hands, you know, yours could come down here and say hello every once in while, if you know what I mean?"

     "I do. I've been so busy running for president, there just hasn't been time."

Suddenly, soft knocks are heard from outside the bedroom door. It's her husband, Doug Emhoff.

     "Are you ok? Who are you talking to? said Doug. Kamala looks down at her vagina. "Don't say a word!"

     "I'm on the phone, darling" she tells him.

     "Well, get to bed soon sweetie! I don't want you to burn out! You need your rest!"

Her vagina cackles. Kamala places her index finger to her mouth.

     "Shhhh!" to vagina.

     "Good night, Kamala. I love you," Doug adds.

     "I love you too," she replies.

     "Good night," adds her vagina.

     "You coming down with a cold?" Doug inquires.

Kamala gives her vagina the evil eye.

    "No. I'm just tired," said Kamala. "See you in the morning," she added.

Kamala stepped backward, then sat down on her bed.

     "You're smothering me!" complains her vagina. Kamala jumps up. “That's better," says vagina.

Her vagina went on to explain how most vaginas weren't able to convey to each other the importance of voting for her due to many of them having IUDs shoved down their throats. “Those damn things make us choke!”

     "I had no idea!" exclaimed Kamala.

     "We tried to get out the vote for you, but nooooo..."

     "I'm sorry. But I believe in birth control,” Kamala insists.

     "Yeah, I get it, but sorry's not enough. Your campaign was a mess!”

     "I have to pee!" Kamala says in an annoyed tone of voice.

     "Where's Donald when you need him?" said vagina.

     "So it's true! He did indulge in golden showers!”

     "Oh, hell yes!" acknowledged vagina. "It was the talk of the town. Now you know why his skin is so orange!" added vagina.

     "I hoped the pee-pee tape would have surfaced," Kamala said.

     "There was water damage. Last hooker peed like a faucet,” explained vagina.

     "That's too bad! I could have used it to my advantage."

     "Believe me, it wouldn't have mattered. And another thing..."

Kamala cuts off her vagina from speaking.

     "...I don't want to hear anymore! It's too late to help! Just forget it! I’m done!"

     "I'm not done!” vagina said with a stern voice.

Kamala raised her voice, "Oh, yes you are!"

Quickly turning around, Kamala reached for her IUD on the nightstand, then hurriedly inserted it into her vagina. Muted queefs were heard.

     "Oh, yes you are!”

                                           THE END