imagine Freedom runs for president because he is old enough to run and has 99.999889898899999999992% approval ratings and its election day
now imagine Freedom sitting alone on a swivel chair, pondering over a glass of whiskey on how Lindsey won. She didn't even compete. She can't even vote yet. She is a freshman. Lindsey has literally cried over anime. How is she president.
why is the whiskey warm. Freedom has been tightly clutching the glass the whole time. Why is the whiskey red. The glass has broken and blood trickles down from Freedom's palm. why does he not feel pain. the pain of defeat is all he feels. he cannot bother with petty cuts and glass now embedded in his hand.
god is dead. freedom is an illusion. america never existed. time collapses in on itself as we all suddenly realize at the same time we are insignificant in the universe. The scene zooms out to reveal a balding television reporter stating that Freedom "Fuckyes" is ahead in the polls by 99.999889898899999999992%
