Michele Bachmann is lounging around the house in a filmy negligee.
BACHMANN: Jesus Christ, I've got a headache. I feel like my whole head is going to explode. It's a good thing I don't have my finger on the button, or I swear I would launch all the missiles right now!
Suddenly, the doorbell rings.
BACHMANN: Who the hell can that be? I'm not in the mood to answer any more gotcha questions from the lamestream media about the Revolutionary War.
Bachmann opens the door a crack. Sarah Palin is standing there clad in a black leather motorcycle jacket and skintight black jeans, looking very butch.
BACHMANN: Sarah Palin! My political idol! What are you doing here?
PALIN: I was driving around in my Freedom Bus, exploring this great country of ours, when I decided to stop by, you betcha. Is it true John Wayne Gacy was born here?
BACHMANN: Well, now is not really a good time. I'm not dressed...
PALIN: That's okay, it's just us girls.
BACHMANN: Plus I have a terrible headache.
PALIN: That time of the month, huh? Don't worry, some good ol' fashion girl talk will help distract you.
BACHMANN: Maybe you're right. We could have a tea party....
Over chamomile tea and cucumber sandwiches, Bachmann and Palin let their hair down:
BACHMANN: Marcus doesn't understand me. He spends all of his time down at the Christian counseling center, trying to pray the gay away. Frankly, I'm worried that some of it is rubbing off. It's been months since he's touched me.
PALIN: I know what you mean. These days Todd's usually off on one of his cross-country snowmobile races. And when he's home, it seems like his nuts are frozen. Some First Dude. More like First Dud. Here, let's turn this into a real tea party.
Palin takes out a joint and lights it.
BACHMANN: Oh, Sarah, you're wicked!
Palin and Bachmann pass the joint back and forth, getting stoned.
BACHMANN (after a long drag): Seriously, I think the reason I get all these headaches is all the un-relieved sexual tension.
PALIN: Oh, you poor dear! Let me give you a massage. Do you have any baby oil left over from all those children you fostered?
Palin starts massaging Bachmann. The two lock eyes. They kiss each other passionately.
BACHMANN (sighing): Oh, Sarah, gay marriage is an abomination before God. I signed that defense-of-marriage-pledge. ...
PALIN: Who said anything about marriage? I just want to drill you like an Alaskan oil field! Drill, baby, drill!
Palin starts pushing Bachmann back on the bed.
BACHMANN: Wait, what's that music I hear--like funky seventies disco?
PALIN: You mean that boom-chicka-wah-wah? Who cares? Let's get it on!
Author's Note: A recent survey reports that a whopping 99.9% of you have looked at Internet pornography at least once, so I don't have to describe what happens next. Besides, my editors won't let me work blue. I'm already skating pretty close to the edge. So let's fast forward a couple of hours. Palin and Bachmann are lying naked together in bed, sharing a post-coital cigarette.
PALIN: That was great! Like Paul Revere, you really rang my bells. Not only the British were coming.
BACHMANN: Me too! And the best part is, my headache is cured. I'm going to have to change my theme music from Tom Petty's "American Girl" to Katy Perry's "I Kissed A Girl." She started out as a Christian pop singer, you know
PALIN: We should do this more often, maybe run together for Pres. The only question is who would be on top of the ticket.
BACHMANN (coyly): Maybe we could take turns.
PALIN (caressing Bachmann): I'm ready to reload, if you know what I mean.
Suddenly, the doorbell rings again.
BACHMANN: Now who can that be?
Donning her negligee, Bachmann answers the door. Hillary Clinton is standing there in a dominatrix outfit, brandishing a riding crop.
CLINTON: I hear you two have been very naughty girls.