Hobama: A Presidential Affair

a fate more tragic than obamacare (according to some republicans)

He hadn't always loved Obama. He really hadn't. He might have had a hero crush on him the first time they met backstage at the KCAs, but he hadn't known what the chance encounter would lead to. If he had, he might have skipped out on that night all together, or at least, that's what he told himself. Deep down, Harry knew that he and Obama were made for each other, their souls tied together by fate itself, and nothing could sever that tie.

He was startled out of his love haze by a buzz from his pocket. Harry couldn't help but hope that whatever the notification, it would be from Obama. He entered in his password, 4673, code for 'hope', the keyword of Obama's 2008 presidential campaign.

Sadly, it was just an update from the Obama fan account, @barackingnews updating him on his lover's every move. The most recent post detailed the pizza Michelle Obama ordered to the White House. It was a large buffalo chicken pizza with a 2-liter bottle of Mountain Dew from Domino's.

Harry despaired at the thought of Michelle getting to eat such a romantic dinner with Obama. His heart constricted in his chest and he felt his fingers quit out of Twitter and instinctively move to Obama's contact in his speed dial. For a few moments, all he heard was the rush of panic in his ears, but soon he realized the phone was ringing and ringing and ringing again. After a few suspenseful minutes, his call finally went to voicemail. The word 'heartbreak' is an understatement for the pain Harry felt in his chest.

His heart lurched at the same time the tour bus did as it came to a halting stop, but for a very different reason. He knew it. Obama, his soul mate, was cheating on him with his wife, Michelle.

Harry heard the sliding door open as tears sprung to his eyes. He turned towards the wall, shielding himself from the questions he knew were bound to come. Anyone could see it, the tragedy, so clear in the raw emotion that painted his divine, frog-like features.

If he could, he would avoid all his band mates for the next millennium or at least until they somehow completely forgot about the phase in his life that he was gagging for the President of the United States.

As fat, warm tears rolled down his cheeks and landed in his deep dimples, he felt a warm presence cocoon him. He turned around to see who was wrapped around his gangly frame and let out a gasp when his eyes met with the last person he expected to be spooning him on the Take Me Home tour bus.