"Hi Hill, Deb here. Terrible news....the DNC got hacked and they leaked our emails".
Hillary: "Oh shit! Did they find everything?"
Deb: "Nah...nothing about our lesbian relationship...just the stuff where I suggested how we were going to "burn the Bern".
Hillary: "Well, Deb, ya know we couldn't have won this nomination without the DNC going rogue, and yeah, those Super Delgates were helpful too".
Deb: "What do you expect we should do?"
Hillary: "Well, the first thing I'm gonna do is to call Bill and tell him to go down to the basement and wipe that damn server again".
Deb: "Yeah, good idea....but what are we gonna tell the press?"
Hillary: "How in the world did those DNC computers get hacked?"
Deb: "We used the same IT guys that you used for that basement server."
Hillary: "Oh shit!"
Hillary: "Did they identify the hackers?"
Deb: "Not sure. Wikileaks released it...think it might be the Russkies".
Hillary: "Russia? I thought we had Putin in the tank when we sold him all that damn uranium and gave him that red re-set button".
Deb: "Well, no matter who hacked us, let's blame it on the Russkies".
Hillary: "Do you think that will fly?"
Deb: "Sure...we'll blame the whole damn thing on Trump".
Hillary: "Will the media buy that?"
Deb: "You're kidding right? I'll just send a memo to CNBC, CNN, NBC, CBS and ABC and remind those bastards over there of how many of their wives or husbands who work for the Administration".
Hillary: "Brilliant, Deb". Say, now that the cat's out of the bag, and since you're already "outed", why not just come on board as my campaign manager?"
Deb: "Cool, Hil!" "And thanks so much!"
Hillary: "Okay, we're agreed". "We blame this on Trump and the Ruskies".
Deb: "But what will we do if the press asks us about those "Bernie-Burning" emails? Can't blame that on the Russkies".
Hillary: "Get serious Deb...I got everyone of those liberal bitches in my pocket...and if anyone gives us any lip I'll just show em a pic of Vince Foster and Lafayette Park".
Deb: "Oh yeah!"
Hillary: "So just lay low until after the convention, Deb." "In fact, I gotta little time now...why don't you come on up for a little slap and tickle!"
Deb: "I'll be there in five minutes, Hil". "Should I wear that leather number you like so much?"