Hillary Clinton snuck off to visit a fortuneteller
of some local repute. In a dark and hazy room, peering into a crystal
ball, the mystic delivered grave news.
"There's no easy way to say this,
so I'll just be blunt: Prepare yourself to be a widow. Your husband will die a
violent and horrible death this year."
Visibly shaken, Hillary stared at the
woman's lined face, then at the single flickering candle, then down at her hands.
She took a few deep breaths to compose herself. She simply had to know.
She met the fortuneteller's gaze, steadied her voice, and asked her
question.
"Will I be acquitted?"
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