"Huma, have you seen this?"
"The Instagram from Putin: I saw it."
"It's a cucumber."
"I think it must be a Russian cucumber."
"He knows."
"Hillary, there is no way that he can know."
"The Russians -- they have cameras everywhere. And microphones. Maybe smellphones. Maybe they've smelled the cucumber."
"They haven't smelt the cucumber, Hillary."
"It's been in my ass, you put it there: of course they've smelt the cucumber: Putin has smelled the cucumber: he knows."
"So what if he knows? I'm sure Russian girls put cucumbers up each others' ass all the time."
"That's potatoes."
"It's not just potatoes, Hillary. Russians put cucumbers, potatoes, gourds, geraniums and who knows what else up the ass of their women."
"Huma, I really tried."
"The Reset Button: I know."
"Now when I am President every time I talk to Putin he is going to make cucumber sounds."
"Hillary, cucumbers don't make a sound."
"Huma, you damned well know that when you put a cucumber up my ass that I make a sound."
"That is you making the sound, not the cucumber."
"So now you're going to parse me?
"No, Hillary --"
"I'm done being parsed. When someone tries to parse me my parse is as dry as a Texas prairie."
"We don't mention Texas, Hillary: them are Bush folk."
"Ohh, Huma: YOU are my 'bush folk..."
"Hillary, I always am: even shaved."
"But Putin STILL smelt the cucumber."
"We'll then: we'll change from cucumbers to narrow pineapples."
"Huma, that's why I love you: my ass will never be empty..."
"Hillary, I will always make sure your ass is packed with something that is not a male cock..."
I am Laslo
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