An asshole, a female incubator, and a doughnut
By 
The man was out at a business establishment with his peers and associates, imbibing liquid refreshment and debating which comestibles were best to ingest.
Then he saw the female. Even from across the room, he could see that it looked fertile. It had hair protruding on top of its scalp, the appropriate location, and was binocular and ambulatory. It looked as though it contained many fertilizable eggs. Seeing it, he had one immediate thought: He had better tell it about the Great Replacement Theory so that it would understand how imperative it was to combine their genetic material. He also would be sure to state that it reminded him of a beauty pageant contestant (it would understand that this was not demeaning, but the only meaningful compliment it was possible to bestow on a woman).
Its eyes were difficult to read, unlike Project 2025, which unwisely had been made available online, but he thought he saw sexual receptivity there.
“Now that one looks as though it contains many high-quality eggs,” he observed to one of his associates, who said “Yes!” enthusiastically, as though someone had just proposed a national abortion ban to him. “Like a carton of Eggland’s Best,” the man added, to show that he was one of the people.
“With that female’s assistance, in a just system, you could acquire many more votes,” another of his associates observed.
“After you reproduce together,” a further associate chimed in, “it will be appropriate for it to enter the teaching profession.”
They all nodded. “Not before,” they agreed.
The man had recently visited a purveyor of sweet comestibles where he had made lifelike conversation for several full minutes. Now he produced one of the nourishing spheroids that he had purchased there and contemplated it lovingly, as though it were a book arguing that progressives were Unhumans that he had been asked to blurb.
I assume there’s a wacky best friend role for Meritocracy Kavanaugh Chua-Rubenfeld in there somewhere.