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Rockauthor
05-04-2001, 09:56 PM
HILARY RODHAM CLINTON


Starring in




The Ghost & Mrs. Clinton
(A ticklish celebrity fantasy)




It was 11:30 at night and the junior U.S. Senator from the great state of New York, Hilary Rodham Clinton, was hard at work, sitting at her desk in her luxury apartment in D.C. She was preparing to propose new legislation on gun control and fatigue seemed to be getting as hard to fight as the Republicans on Capitol Hill.
She yawned and thought, I really need some sleep, but I gotta finish this speech.
Suddenly, a calm breeze blew through the room.
Funny, I don’t remember having the window open, Hilary thought.
The former First Lady spun her swivel chair around and looked to see that the window was open, and then Hilary’s beautiful eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped open as she witnessed a shocking sight before her. A tall, translucent image appeared right in front of her.
The manifestation took on the form of an older man, about 6’ 4”, modest-looking, and wearing formal 19th century attire. The shadowy figure had a playful look on his face and began to moan and wriggle his fingers menacingly at Mrs. Clinton. She was paralyzed with terror. She didn’t know what to make of this. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. It’s a ghost, Hilary thought.
Then the strange phenomenon spoke to Hilary Clinton chanting, “HILARY RODHAM CLINTON, QUEEN OF POLITICAL INVENTION, YOU HAVE FIBBED AND YOU HAVE LIED, NOW IS THE TIME FOR YOU TO BE TRIED, BEHOLD THE FATE THAT HAS AWAITED YOU, I WILL TICKLE YOU AND TICKLE YOU ’TIL YOU TELL ME WHAT IS TRUE.”
The uninvited phantom then disappeared and the attractive dignitary Hilary Clinton rubbed her face and sighed, saying out loud, “ Great! Now I’m having hallucinations about lyrical ghosts threatening to tickle me if I don‘t tell the truth. I better go to bed right now before I totally lose my mind.”
Hilary mocked the whole idea and dismissed it as such; she got up and walked over to her the window, closed it, and then retired to her bedroom. The former First Lady climbed into her plush king-size bed and got cozy, trying to relieve her mind of all her public and private worries.
All of a sudden, Hilary Clinton’s eyes grew wide again and she began to fidget under the covers. A look of panic and confusion overtook her face and she curled her pretty toes locked, tightly, in the cutest little way. Hilary felt something tickling her feet.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HEY! WHAT’S HAHAHAHAHA GOING ON? SOMETHING’S HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE TICKLING MY FEET! HAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHA! OH MY GOD! HOW CAN THIS HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE BE HAPPENING TO ME!”
Dozens of invisible feathers were rapidly swiping all over the distinguished lady’s soft, smooth, creamy-white tootsies.
“...HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE! W-W-WHO’S DOING THIS TO MEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE? HAHAHAHAHA! WHAT AM I SAYING? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I MUST BE GOING INSANE! OH! OH! THAT TICKLES SO MUCH!”
The outspoken Senator was sent into an episode of unbridled ticklish laughter. Hilary tossed about in her bed, begging and pleading and giggling hysterically. And after almost an hour of non-stop phantasm tickle-torture, the former First Lady mercifully passed out.
The next day Hilary Rodham Clinton arrived at the capitol building with two separate dilemmas on her mind:
1. How she was going to spin her way around the reporters’ onslaught of questions concerning the controversial pardon of a known drug smuggler who allegedly paid her brother Hugh Rodham.
2. What the hell happened last night in her bedroom? Did her imagination run away with her or did a ghost really visit her and nearly tickle her half to death?
Whatever she did or didn‘t experience, nothing could possibly prepare Senator Clinton for the flood of flashing camera bulbs, pointed microphones, and interrogating journalists at this scheduled special press conference.
“Senator Clinton, do you believe President Clinton‘s pardoning of the notorious drug smuggler was a quid pro quo?” A young, attractive female reported asked.
“You’d have to ask the President about that because I don’t know about the business that pertains to his executive duties and privileges,” Hilary answered.
“Senator Clinton, were you aware of the alleged pay off to your brother Hugh Rodham in exchange for you having the President to pardon the smuggler?” a seasoned, spectacle-clad male reporter asked.
“I was not aware of Hugh Rodham’s business dealings. I wasn’t even aware that I had a brother named Hugh Rodham,” the Senator replied.
Later that evening, after a long and trying day, the political icon Hilary Clinton was more than ready for bed. As she got under the covers Hilary couldn’t help but have an overwhelming feeling of guilt and apprehension as she tried to get comfortable and go to sleep.
Suddenly, that familiar whistling of wind blew through her bedroom. Mrs. Clinton’s lovely eyes grew wide again and she shook under the covers, curling her pretty, pedicured toes locked.
Once again that unwelcome ghoul materialized before the Senator, moaning and wriggling his transparent fingers at her.
“HILARY, HILARY, DON’T YOU CARE, I WAS THERE AT YOUR AFFAIR, A SENATOR WHO INSISTS ON DECEPTION AND SPIN, HAVEN’T YOU GRASPED THE TICKLISH SITUATION YOU ARE IN, TONIGHT THE PUNISHMENT WILL BE DOUBLED ON YOU, FOR I WILL TICKLE YOU AND TICKLE YOU ’TIL YOU TELL ME WHAT IS TRUE.” The ghost chanted, then disappeared.
Oh no, not again, Hilary Clinton thought. But then she began to really panic when it donned on her that all this was very much real; she felt ten invisible fingers methodically and skillfully explore every sensitive crevice of her EXTREMELY TICKLISH bare feet.
Hilary Clinton went ballistic!
“AAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! AAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHA! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! W-W-W-WHO ARE YOUUUUUU! OH! OH! STOP! STOP! HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE! EEEEEEEEEEEK! AAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! PLEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEEEASE STAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAP TICKLING MEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEE!”
The hysterical woman kicked her legs and stomped her feet under the covers, rocking back and forth in her king-size bed, and pounding her fists against the mattress. And after another hour of cruel foot-tickling, the phantom tickler dissisted. The former first lady lay in a pool of perspiration, gasping to catch her breath.
“WHO ARE YOU? WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?” Hilary asked, looking up at the ceiling.
“ YOU WILL NEVER NEED TO KNOW, THE IDENTITY OF THE PRESENCE WHO WILL NOT GO, BUT IF YOU MUST PROBE AND QUERY, WHY THIS TICKLISH BURDEN YOU MUST CARRY, I, TOO, HAVE PERJURED AND CONSPIRED, NOW I MUST SAVE YOUR SOUL FROM A FATE THAT IS NOT DESIRED, SO CONFESS YOU WILL IF YOU KNOW WHAT IS GOOD FOR YOU, BECAUSE I WILL TICKLE YOU AND TICKLE YOU ’TIL YOU TELL ME WHAT IS TRUE.”
“ BUT I DO TELL WHAT IS TRUE! HONEST! PLEASE, DON’T TICKLE ME ANY-MORE! I’M TOO TICKLISH ON MY BARE FEET! I DON’T TELL LIES, I SWEAR! YOU MUST BE...”
But before the former First Lady could continue, the ghostly digits of the tickling wraith started their tickling assault again, digging ever so delicately under and between her super ticklish toes.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NO! NO! NO MORE! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAP IIIIIIIIT! HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE! THAT TICKLES! THAT TICKLES! OH! OH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! YOU’RE KILLING ME! STOP! STOP! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I’LL HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA CONFESS! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA I’LL CONFESS! PLEEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEEEEASE STOP! THAT TICKLES!”
And after about 15 more minutes of tickling for good measure, the ghost gave Hilary Clinton a rest. Once the Senator was able to catch her breath she looked at the spirit who reappeared before her and said, “OKAY, I ADMIT IT! I LIED ABOUT NOT KNOWING ABOUT THE PARDONS! I LIED ABOUT WHITEWATER! I KNEW ABOUT THE WHOLE THING! I WAS INVOLVED IN THE MACHINATIONS OF ALL OF THOSE THINGS! AND THAT’S THE TRUTH! NOW PLEASE STOP TICKLING ME!”
“HILARY RODHAM CLINTON, QUEEN OF POLITICAL INVENTION, YOU HAVE TOLD THE TRUTH AT LAST, AND ARE NOW FORGIVEN FOR THE SINS OF YOUR PAST, FOR YOUR CONFESSION HAS COME FROM THE HEART, SO NOW THIS SPIRIT WILL QUICKLY DEPART,” the ghost said, then disappeared.
Hilary Rodham Clinton was relieved the whole ordeal was over. The former First Lady still had her toes curled locked under the covers. A chill ran up her spine as she thought about the spook and his tickling of her feet. But most importantly, Hilary felt a sense of redemption and turned over a new leaf. Senator Clinton decided from no on that she was going to be the most honest and most respected politician that she could be...NOT!









THE END

SlaverTickler
05-06-2001, 12:28 PM
Rock you are defenetly the man when it comes to celeb fiction. Keep up the good work bro.

Rockauthor
05-06-2001, 03:45 PM
Hey, thanks man. I appreciate that.

Scooby112211
05-06-2001, 04:24 PM
I agree. Have you ever thought about a Josie and the Pussycat's story? Maybe Tara Reid get's a little jealous of Rachel Leigh Cook getting all the attention...:D I would definately *pay* to see that :cool:

Rockauthor
05-06-2001, 06:34 PM
Thank you very much. Cool idea! I'll see what I can come up with in the weeks to come.