Mitt Romney strapped his dog to the roof of his car and drove to Canada while the dog “defecated in fear.” Never forget. I feel like people are forgetting.
INT. – CANADIAN VACATION HOME – DAY
SEAMUS THE DOG wakes up on the kitchen floor. He has no memory of anything before he opened his eyes. We see a close-up of Seamus’s eyes.
So who are you?
He sees a reflection of himself in the stainless steel refrigerator.
You’re a dog. OK. Where are you?
He looks around.
You’re in a kitchen. What smells so bad?
He sniffs his own ass.
I shat myself! What the fuck? How did this happen? What is going on here?
A menacing shadow appears in the kitchen door. Seaums looks up at its owner.
Oh my God! You’re Mitt Romney’s dog! You’re Mitt Romney’s dog! RUN!
EXT. – MITT ROMNEY’S MERCEDES – DAY
Mitt Romney and his family ride in climate-controlled comfort on I-93 North. Mitt whistles along to his tape of Wings’ Band on the Run. His children sleep peacefully in the backseat. His wife is glassy-eyed. Drugged? We pan to the roof of the car, where Seamus rides in a pet carrier, shivering from the cold wind and defecating from fear. He whimpers and cries.
What have I done to deserve this? Why is this happening to me?
INT. MITT ROMNEY’S BOSTON HOME – DAY
Seamus wakes up in a dog bed made of scrap metal and garbage. He looks around him to see a house decorated with pure opulence. The finest furniture. Crystal decanters upon a bar made with a solid gold countertop. Servants, maids and butlers scamper through the room.
Whoa! I must have it made. I’m some rich person’s dog! This is great. I bet I get treated so nice. Why can’t I remember anything though? Whatever. I bet I get to eat tuna and handmade treats all day long while a servant fans me and rubs my belly. Wow! But why is my bed so uncomfortable? That’s weird.
Mitt Romney walks into the room.
This must be my master. So handsome! Well-dressed! Is that Armani? What a lucky dog I am!
Here, Seamus. Here, boy.
I’m named Seamus! A grand name, indeed. I must be Irish. Erin go bragh!
Seamus saunters over to Mitt.
You stupid fucking dog. You’ve forgotten your lessons again, haven’t you?
Seamus looks at Mitt quizzically.
Every fucking day, I tell you not to look me directly in the eyes and to fetch me my Wall Street Journal. And every day you forget. Guess who’s riding on the roof again, fuckwad?
One of these days, I’ll be able to beat some sense into you. One of these days, it’ll take.
Mitt begins kicking Seamus as Seamus attempts to cover himself up with his paws.