Other Dangerous Historical Events Hillary Clinton Experienced as First Lady.
While Ms. Clinton reads It Takes a Village to a second-grade class, a student vomits on the carpet.
“I remember landing under sniper fire. We dove to the floor as if a tornado-like wind had plowed us down. I covered my face with the book, but others were not so lucky: one girl had to burn her sneakers after the soles were marked with hellish regurgitation. I was able to herd the children out, counting each of their little heads as they passed, ensuring the safety of America’s future.”
Camera malfunctions during photo shoot for Vogue cover.
“I remember landing under sniper fire. The flash from the camera was obviously a mortar attack, and I managed to wrap myself in the backdrop to avoid detection. I stabbed the perpetrator in the back with a letter opener—a skill I learned while president of the Young Republicans at Wellesley—and detained the criminal until the military arrived.”
Waiter trips during reception for the sculpture exhibition in the White House’s Jacqueline Kennedy Garden.
“I remember landing under sniper fire. Because it was bad weather, we were set up in the East Room, but I could see the insurgents moving behind the sculptures. I continued my introductions, though, so as not to upset the assembled art enthusiasts. But when a member of my wait staff was callously thrown to the ground, I acted: I leapt past Rex Scouten and dropped one of the bastards with a one-step reverse roundhouse kick.”
Not enough pitted kalamata olives for Grilled Lemon Mustard Chicken recipe.
“I remember landing under sniper fire. I began cursing, but then stopped and said to myself, ‘Hey, HRC, cool it. There’s a jar of empeltre olives in the cabinet. But people will notice the difference; empeltres have too much of a nutty taste. I’ll have to make Roasted Rack of Lamb With a Pumpkin Thyme Crust instead.’”
Socks misses the kitty-litter box.
“I remember landing under sniper fire. The smell was akin to mustard gas; I covered my face with an afghan and escorted Socks outside. I made sure that nobody, not even the cleaning staff, was allowed to enter the room until the noxious stench had dissipated. Well, almost nobody; I did tell Bill to go in and save my copy of Little Women. He came out and said, ‘Sweet Arkansas, Hill, that’s some mealy excrement.’”
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