WASHINGTON, D.C. – After eight years of trying to sleep while the ghost of Lyndon Baines Johnson stalked up and down the Presidential bedroom, ranting about the size of its spectral phallus, former president Barack Obama is having difficulty falling asleep without it.
“I guess I just got used to him,” said a visibly sleep-deprived Obama. “Now I can’t get any shuteye unless Michelle flicks the lights on and off while shouting ‘Hey you there, black fella, you ever seen a tallywhacker the size of a rotary phone, that’s right, sleepy-head, I’m talkin’ to YOU.’ Frankly, it’s putting some strain on our relationship.”
The Obamas have tried everything from playing whale noises and an Action Bronson record at the same time, to dousing Joe Biden in baby powder and having him whack a sausage against a wooden block, but nothing has recreated the soporific effect of a Texan ghost raving about how he had shot loads that would have made better presidents than Kennedy, who was ‘one of the all-time pencil-dicks.’
“The best was when he would whip it out and start whirling it around while shouting, ‘You gonna fly on that helli-copter tomorrow, Barry, ‘cause I got your Marine One right here’,” Michelle Obama said. “That used to put Barack to sleep like a glass of warm milk and a lullaby.”
Since his death in 1973, Lyndon Johnson has appeared to every sitting President, every night. Supernatural experts suggest he will only find his final rest when the American people elect somebody with a truly ‘Texas-Sized Beef Bassoon.’
At press time, Donald Trump was lying in bed with the sheets drawn up to his chin, being slowly driven insane by Johnson’s endless chant of ‘tiny hands, tiny hands’.