“But mom,” wondered the young, poop-colored 10-year-old aloud in their native language, as she slowly squatted her hairless vagina down onto Harvard Law Professor Emeritus Alan Dershowitz’s tiny, half-hard Jew penis, “if niggas can’t even strike the root—then why even hack the branches?”
The mother, a Haitian brothel owner, motioned to the ten-year-old’s sister, a 6-year-old whose nose was being pinched closed by former U.S. president Bill Clinton as he fucked her mouth angrily while swearing about how unfair life was—that Barack Obama got a Nobel Peace Prize “just for being a fucking half-nigger” as Clinton put it.
“See how hard this white devil fucks this child’s mouth?”
“I see it, mama.”
As the two were talking in their muddy language, Bill Clinton pulled his erect penis out of the child’s trembling mouth, bent down and began biting on the young girl’s lips until they bled and the child screamed loudly, pulling away and reaching for her mom. But Bill Clinton pulled the 6-year-old back to him, pushed her again to her knees, and thrust his penis back into the child’s mouth, muffling the little one’s tearful cries.
“Tek it eesie, Bill. Don’ hurt da child too much,” she shouted—loudly but passively.
“Shut your nigger mouth, bitch! You’re lucky that my hero KKK Leader Robert Byrd isn’t here to hang all you niggers for no reason whatsoever!”
The mother had no idea what all those big words meant—her limited vocabulary having been built on various Hollywood mind-sewage that the USA inflicted on the rest of the world. So she turned back to her older daughter: “Do you realize how lucky she is?,” asked the young mother.
“Lucky for what? That one of these disgusting pink people has not poisoned her with AIDS—yet?” After the glorious Haitian revolution of 1804, when blacks chimped out and exterminated all their white providers, Haiti had rapidly deteriorated into a miserable, disease-ridden hell-on-earth, albeit black-run, “as hell would be,” whites often said, “but blacks probably could not even manage hell: with niggers’ IQ of semi-functional retardation—they would somehow manage to ruin even white God’s hell.”
“No, dummy!,” the mother snapped. She could be armless and legless in Africa—her limbs hacked off by Ugandan homosexuals and sold to witch-doctors for making those silly ‘magic potions’. Or worse, she could have ended up in the path of white devil’s war-machine for Israel—and be just another of the millions of children murdered for the psychopathic Socialist atheists who occupy Palestine.”
“Of course you’re right, mama,” the ten-year-old conceded, just as the psychopathic Socialist atheist under her began panting and muttering:
“Nothing that I do is ever good enough for mother!,” Dershowitz sobbed while pitifully wiggling his half-hard penis inside the child. “But at least I’m big enough to satisfy this little nigglet!”
After Alan Dershowitz finished his embarrassing, masochistic ritual, he pushed the child off of his sad, little Jew penis, and he ran back to Harvard to feel important again.
The tiny Haitian child then calmly squatted down and let Dershowitz’s tiny drip of ejaculate fall out of her and onto the dirt floor of the small hut made for the Haitian slaves by the Clinton Founation—each one of which the foundation received a million dollars to build.
Just then Hillary Clinton rushed in, red-faced. “Here you are, you nigger-loving freak!,” Hillary squalled ferociously.
“It’s not what you think, Bill pleaded, pulling his penis out of the 6-year-old’s mouth and punching the child in the face. “See?! I’m not sexually attracted to this ugly, little nigger—it was just cleaning my dick!”
“That’s what you always say!,” Hillary shrieked, drawing from a sheath on her hip, a long hunting knife etched with “I’m with her” on one side and “Believe Women” on the other. She rushed up to Bill, who rolled his eyes in anger, knowing what would come next.
With no resistance from Bill, his wife shoved him aside and began stabbing the 6-year-old Hatian girl in the throat. A mixture of blood, tears, and Bill’s pre-cum began dripping down the dying child’s neck.
“Hillary, knock it off, you crazy bitch—the little nigger is already dead!”
“Not as dead as you’ll be if you don’t stop cheating on me with these ugly, little nigger mouths!”
“You always say that, bitch!,” Bill laughed.
“Yeah, well this time I mean it!,” Hillary laughed, then sighed and chuckled, thinking about all the children she had murdered, as she wiped the newest victim’s blood off the blade—using the bright yellow dress that the child had received for her sixth birthday, the day before, from relatives who had saved together for months to afford it.
As the young Haitian mother and daughter held the gasping, dying child—the Clintons stepped out of the marine-guarded tent and onto their private plane, and headed to New York for election-night, hoping Hillary would be chosen by USA’s shadow-government as the United States figurehead for the terroristic, kike-centered foreign policy that would continue regardless which figurehead “won” the farcical election.