I AM SORRY THAT IT HAS TAKEN SO LONG FOR A PART 3.
It was time for the State of the Union address. Paul Ryan was sitting there, minding his own business, listening intently to DeeTee speak. He’s enjoying his seat behind the Pres, and begins to allow himself the thought of himself being the Pres one day, delivering the speech himself. This thought makes him smile, “just remember to make it look natural,” he reminded himself.
Recently, Ryan had discovered a group called ‘Dead Prez.’ He didn’t much like the name of the group. But he did know that a dead Prez would probably get him closer to the Presidency.
He thoroughly enjoyed their music, but not so much the lyrical contents, which had heavily promoted Socialism, dirty, dirty Socialism. He liked Capitalism. He wondered why they couldn’t make songs about Capitalism. He enjoyed it when he saw the exploitative nature of Capitalism show and take away the homes and health care of poor people. He still disliked poor people. But this would change if his donors told him to change his opinion. He loved his donors. They gave him money to make themselves money. He liked money.
20 minutes had gone by. Once again, he had allowed himself to be distracted. “It’s bigger than hip hop, hip hop, hip hop, hip” he rapped in his head. He looked around the room, allowing himself to experience the wonderment the situation. “I AM SOMEBODY,” he said to himself in his head. “I MATTER. I AM IMPORTANT.”
He leant across towards Mikey P, and simply uttered “Who shot Biggie Smalls, if we don’t get them, they gon’ get us all, I’m down for running up on them crackers in their city hall.” P looked back at him and said “excuse Paul? What did you just say? I didn’t quite catch that. By the way, I hate Gay people because I have a fear that I might be Gay myself.” Paul didn’t want to repeat himself. He replied, “it doesn’t matter, I’ll catch up with you later…” He thought for a second. He was tempted to say something else, but should he? He should. “…Homie” he said. Yeah. He was cool. He was so cool.
Towards the end of the speech, he remembered fondly the inauguration. He had dabbed on everyone. “That was a great day,” he thought to himself. But he then began to think, should I do it again now? What better time right? Ryan hesitated. He contemplated the pros and cons, but try as he might, he couldn’t think of one other than it might divert attention away from DeeTee. This would make DeeTee mad, and Ryan didn’t want to be screamed at again. That began to worry him less and less. “Alright, I have to go for this.” He began to count it down in his head, 3… 2… 1…
BITCH DAB.
He dabbed. Just a small dab, however. This wasn’t the correct time to commit fully to the dab. He gathered himself, sat up in his seat, and waited patiently for the speech to end.
Today was a good day.
goodkidweirdpersonfiction 