Posts Tagged ‘terrorists’

The New House of Un-American Activities

September 28, 2016

In the year 2021 after the national elections that gave Hillary Clinton her second term, a committee was formed within the Democratic Party dominant House of Representatives called The New House of Un-American Activities. The committee was created to prevent racism, xenophobia, misogynistic and Islamicphobic behavior in the private work place.
Rutherford J. Mann, was hauled in after a questionable speech to shareholders. Mann, a former Marine who used the GI bill to get himself through college, excelled in the workplace and became a CFO of a major fortune 500 company. After a few too many drinks on a day when the stock price for his particular company under his watch, shot up, Mr. Mann spoke freely. He never refrained after that day. His candor lead to problems between he and the government. Why the antisocial behavior? Was it the fact that the stock tripled in a short period of time? Was it that this was the third time he laid his hand upon a struggling company and turned it to gold? Was it because he was an old, white male? Probably all of the above. His manic, plain speaking speech landed him in front of the New House of Un-American Activities.

Rep Jefferson- Good afternoon Mr. Mann… Do you understand why you stand before us today?
Mann- I have an idea why but I don’t think anyone who is forced before this tribunal ever knows for sure.
Rep Washington- Please clarify, Mr. Mann.
Mann- There are many agendas out there and something such as this witch hunt is born somewhere for some reason. Where it originates and why is probably unimportant as it is truly Un-American.

A few laughs from the press and the viewing gallery caused the gavel to be hammered by Representative Adams of New York.

Rep. Adams- Mr. Mann are you now or have you ever been subversive?
Mann- Please explain what that would mean exactly.
Rep. Jackson- One who would be unwilling to temporarily allow refugees from war-torn areas, shelter in one of their many secondary residences when the law specifically states that private property that is not of primary residence, must be made available to house refugees. This is a right afforded all refugees under the law who are in the process of becoming naturalized citizens. I believe it has come to light that you paid relatives to occupy your secondary homes in Maine, Florida, Hawaii, California and Aspen to skirt the law… We have emails regarding payments that were made to various relatives… I quote, “I would just as soon burn down these places than let recruits sleep in my beds.” Recruits? What would they have been recruits for exactly?
Mann- Um… The Democrat Party most likely…
Rep. Washington- The sums of money you have donated to what has been determined to be subversive causes is impressive. Racist, xenophobic fronts abound and as a wealthy donor, you must know that giving to these causes makes you a defacto bigot. A lot has been improved an eliminated over the years. Citizen policing boards to ensure no profiling of any sector of the public ever occurs again within the ranks of our police officers. The Common Access Act which provides that anybody of any gender can and must be allowed access to areas formerly reserved for specific genders… Men only. Women only… This is not much different from colored only. Reactionary subversion cannot be tolerated. We are a tolerant and educated people that take equality for all seriously… So with this said we will read off a list of your charges.
Rep. Harrison- “Stand and piss the way god intended men to do. Piss on the seat, the rim and floor. Let them all know a man was there and don’t apologize for being a man…” This was recorded April of 2018 at an airport in Dallas. “Women get all riled up over the word Cunt… You get a bitch hormonally unbalanced due to bleeding monthly or when the tap gets shut down and we should be able to read a situation at all times or we are oblivious… Is it any wonder dad always looked like a defeated veteran of a foreign war most the time? He went to war daily and lost. He couldn’t discuss it with you because you were idolized by the enemy… Where did women like Margret Thatcher go? You have this crazy cunt giving the farm away and letting anyone steal the crops and claims it’s owed to them…” Which crazy cunt would you be referring to, Mr. Mann? This was recorder June of 2020 in an elevator of your company.
Mr. Mann took a sip of water and winced as if it was cheap vodka going down hard. He ran his index finger around his collar and then replied.
Mann- my people were once farmers. I might have meant my grandmother was giving away the farm as the saying goes but I don’t recall the comment and quite possibly it may have been taken out of context. The urination comment was directed at a man who had disc surgery to his back and could not sit and urinate properly. The comment must be noted that the man to whom I was speaking was in great pain and had difficulty sitting and urinating as is now law but a law which is difficult to police for many reasons… Is that all?
Rep. Washington- Not even half done… Comments here which I must refrain from reading because they are so offensive. Comments about different races, religions, over weight people and the government. You believe and have publicly stated that the government is on the wrong track and that we are all being led down a path to destruction. All are very serious… I am going to recommend that Mr. Mann be added to the growing list of subversives that have already been identified and added to the list. Unless we as diligent Americans step forward and cut out these cancers that surround us, we will return to the way it was back in 2008 and I don’t think any of us in good faith could want that for this country.

So what became of Mr. Mann? He took his severance package and went to live out the rest of his days in Argentina. Years later a reporter for a television show in the United States found the former American on his ranch in rural Argentina. He was hunted down like a former Nazi doctor and questioned from the fence of his ranch as he sat upon his horse. “Do you have a comment for Americans at home that wonder what has become of you?” Mann rubbed his scruff, pushed back his silver hair and said, “If I lived in a house with no windows and only two doors leading nowhere… I’d get the fuck out of that house anyway I could.”


Questions to a White Dad from his Black Daughter

July 30, 2016
Every dad, everywhere, is bombarded by questions by their young children.  Sometimes the questions are things overlooked by adults like why don’t we fly or why don’t we breathe water?  Are you the smartest man in the world?  Are you the strongest man in the world?  What were you doing in the bedroom when you pulled the covers up on you and momma, really fast?
At a commercial break on a kid’s show, this dad checked the weather, baseball scores and then put on cable news.  The screen flashed a sound bite from Hillary, her vice presidential candidate Tim Kaine and then Donald Trump.  Images of the murderers of a priest in a church in France flashed and then a Black Lives Matter protest.  The daughter got bored with the soup du jour of the political world.
daughter- daddy?
dad- hmm?
daughter- can we watch the Power Puff Girls again?
dad- of course…  I just get scared when you watch commercials.  I find myself going to Toys R Us too often then.
daughter- do you watch anything else except this stuff about Hillary and Donald Trump?
dad- you know I watch baseball and hockey…  I also watch shows on Cartoon Network with you.
daughter- do you like Teen Titans?
dad- they make me laugh.  Do you like politics?
daughter- nope.  Momma says that only an idiot would vote for Donald Trump.  Are you going to vote for him?
dad- if I vote for Trump, are you going to call me an idiot?
daughter- nope.
dad- if momma votes for Hillary, I wouldn’t call her blind.
daughter- blonde?
dad- yes…
daughter- how can momma be blonde?  She’s a black woman.  Black women don’t have blonde hair.
dad- I think there are black women that dye their hair blonde.
daughter- momma wouldn’t do that… daddy?
dad- yes…
daughter- what’s it like to be a man?
dad- wow…  that’s a tough question.  It’s like being a serious boy.  I still feel like a boy but I know I’m not anymore.
daughter- I would say you act like a boy still.
dad- thank you…
daughter- do you like being white?
dad- oh boy…  You got some deep questions today…  I like being who I am and being a man who is white is okay with me.  I like who I am.  I wish I was more handsome and taller.
daughter- the kids at school said that I’m black because I’m tanner than the white kids.
dad- your dad is white and your mom is black.  That makes you both.  People can say whatever they want but you will always be both.  You are one of the prettiest girls in the world.  I’ve seen a lot of girls so I know what I’m talking about.
daughter- some kids at school are mean.
dad- yes they are.  If you were to tell someone who happens to be white that they are ugly, fat or stupid, they’re feelings would be hurt.  You don’t need to say anything though.  You point the ones out to me when I drop you off at school and I can say it for you.  I’ll say, “Hey chubby-ob-avitch!  How many freckles do you have and do you have them on your ass.
daughter- you can’t say ass.
dad- I can say it to anyone who acts like one
daughter- how did I get blue eyes?
dad- someone in my family and your mother’s, had to have had blue eyes.  My parents were both right handed but I came out left handed.  Someone in my mom and dad’s family had to be left handed.
daughter- daddy?
dad- yes…
daughter- do black lives matter to you?
dad- this is like an interview today…  What happened to asking me questions like why a dog’s tail wags?  All lives matter to me.
daughter- I heard ladies at the hair salon say that if any white people say that all lives matter, then they’re racist…  What’s a racist?
dad- um…  a racist is someone who judges others based on the color of their skin, religion or where they are from…  Like all black people are like this or all white people are like that.
daughter- are you racist?
dad- I like to think that I’m not but someone might think that I am.  I can always say that I was once married to a black woman and my daughter is part black…  I could say like a lot of other white people that because I have a black friend, I couldn’t possibly be racist.  Do you get what I’m saying?
daughter- I think so…
dad- if I saw someone drowning or burning in a building, I wouldn’t be more likely to save someone because they were white.  Any life matters.  I wouldn’t want to die in water or by fire and would hope that my life matters to someone if they could help me.
daughter- did you know there used to be slaves and they were black?
dad- yes, I learned about that too.  It was wrong and sad and white people who didn’t agree with slavery, went to war with other white people that did want slavery.  It was a really bad war where lot’s of people died.  Even President Lincoln was killed over not wanting slavery.
daughter- if you could be an animal, which animal would you be?
dad- now that’s the sort of question I’m used to…  Today I would be a hippo.  I would go in the pool and cool off all day, then get up and eat, fart and go to sleep.
daughter- you fart a lot now.
dad- You do too.  You must get it from me.
The daughter got quiet and watched the television but she wasn’t really watching.  She was deep in thought.  She held one of her stuffed animals from the latest Disney movie in her hands and looked out of the window.  The father turned down the television volume and added one last thing.
dad- do you know what I wish?
daughter- what?
dad- I wish you could stay the same age you are now so that I always could keep you safe and know where you are.  I would never let boys try to kiss you and never let anyone try to give you drugs…  I know it isn’t possible to wish for that and have it come true so my wish is that you grow up happy and stay healthy and have a good job one day and find someone that makes you happy if that’s what you want and you come to see me now and then when I’m old.
daughter- you’re already old.
dad- yup… So don’t forget to visit your old man when you grow up.
daughter- I would never forget about you.
dad-  ok good.  Now we understand each other and the world completely.
daughter- yup…
The daughter curled up in the crook of her father’s arm and went back to watching her show.  The dad thought about being tired, what he had to get done during the course of the day, what bills he had to pay while his daughter reloaded.
daughter- daddy?
dad- yes, baby…
daughter- who are terrorists and where do you find them?
dad- Wow, wow, wow…I think we need to eat first before we answer anymore questions.  Would that be alright with you?
daughter- yes…  Well I am pretty hungry.  I’ll have more questions for you later.
dad- Yes…  More questions…  Of course…  Always.

240 and Counting

July 4, 2016

Independence- 240 years and the descendants celebrate with wings, malt liquor and parades.  Bill of Rights and the rights of the dead, a bullet piercing the side of the head somewhere on the west side, south side, Chicago’s apartheid red line zone where the tourists never go.  But I digress- this is a process of processed food, entertainment and education.  Back when we were all English and white, on paper the ideas seemed right- Liberty and justice for all… or maybe some or none.  Manifest destiny, all for you and me from sea to shining sea.  You’re free above this line and slave below this one.  A war between brothers and in the end freedom with an asterisk- there was a fix.  You give us the presidency and we’ll look the other way for nearly a 100 years til someone refuses to give up a seat, sit where they want when they choose to eat, vote, protest and integrate, separate but equal became the Civil War sequel.  Well I’ve jumped ahead again.  The Kaiser, Sarajevo, trench warfare, mustard gas the rise of the working class.  Comrades in a sea of red, the Czar was dead.  The treaty left them angry and needy after reparations of Versailles a charismatic character, a director, a rector sold the scape goat- many die and why?  A bomb to stop a war and within a few years a little more and a truce that lasts til this day.

Unbridled growth and prosperity, suburbs and the interstate, sock hops and roller skates.  We liked Ike and then came JFK, Bay of Pigs, assassins and then LBJ and the KKK.  Just advisors to advise those who love and cherish democracy, imperial imposition of freedom for Vietnam.  Baby killers, draft dodgers, free love, and women’s lib.  Drugs and Nixon, the fix was in.  Watergate, oil crisis, a cancer on the presidency, end the war with dignity.  Ford, Carter Reagan- morning again in America.  This aggression will not stand- draw a line in the sand, new world order, Perot, Clinton, stained dress, Clarence Thomas/Anita Hill congressional hearings on the hill.  W, 9-11, weapons of mass destruction, mission accomplished, quagmire, Afghanistan/Taliban=Vietnam, Obama, Osama, Arab spring, ISIS, crisis of confidence, we’ll build a wall for our defense, terrorists, xenophobia, first woman presidential candidate, with shadows of doubt…  Stalin, Hitler, Pol Pot… Wait!  This just in…  Citizen Trump

Yelping the 2016 Presidential Candidates

January 14, 2016

Republican presidential candidates -***** – I give the current cast of candidates five stars. I believe it is about time to think outside the box and outside the beltway. Career politicians- you’ve been served. Somebody has to stand up properly to the Iranians, North Koreans, Chinese and work with Russia for sane solutions. I think Vlad understands what deposing another dictator in the middle east will get us and it isn’t democracy. Trump is saying the things that many in this country think but do not dare say for fear of being labelled a backwards racist. We need to bring in throngs of Syrians just so our women can be fondled, robbed and raped at the Superbowl? Build a wall to keep us safe from everything. It’s a scary world and we had all better start taking notice. Would it be wrong to have morals and scrupples again?

1/2*- Unbelievable everyday that the media reports on the ridiculous things Trump says and does. Is this how Hitler made it? It’s like having your racist, drunk uncle show up to a family party and everyone is amused by the shocking things he will inevitably say. Maybe you’re not for Trump. Oh but there are others nearly as ludicrous. And starring Grandpa Munster as Ted Cruz. I say send him back to Canada and let him read nursery ryhmes to the Parliment in lieu of getting anything passed. Uncle Ben Carson, seeking to become the house Negro for the overseer Republican establishment. Marco! Rubio! Sorry, I can’t see you because I’m swimming with my eyes shut through this sea of blind reactionism. I know there are others still hanging on to the idea that they will be discovered and suddenly surge fifty points and become the front runner. Not even their spouses take them seriously. I ran a fortune 500 company, I was the governor of a state that was happy to get rid of me, my dad ran for president therefore I should do the same, yes but my brother and dad we’re presidents! We are a nation of shallow, short attention span people who get their news in sound bites and bullshit via the internet but really who is taking these idiots seriously other than ancient white people who remember the good old days when everyone was white who was somebody and gosh golly- all the presidents were men and white. Most Episcopalian too.

Democratic presidential candidates- *****- I’m not sure at this moment how I will vote but it is certainly a breath of fresh air to have sane, intelligent and civilized candidates who understand that our enemy is not a religion and that people who live in this country are not going anywhere. The elephant in the room is race relations and how the police target people of color on a daily basis. We have more to worry about within our borders than outside of them. Does anyone want to go back to the good ole Bush days? I think not. We are still recovering from the near collapse of our system under Republicans who were lead around by banks and Wall Street on all fours with ball gags in their mouthes. Bernie is not their slave and I think that speaks to the numbers of people out there that are ready for someone who is more of a third party candidate than the run-of-the-mill Democrats. Unemployment at 5%, low interest rates. Things were not this good in 2008. Whether we ultimately elect Hillary or Bernie, America will be in good hands. I’m waiting to see how things go in Iowa and New Hampshire before making a choice. Like the president said last night- we are the most powerful nation in the world and the state of the union is good!

1/2*- I kept trying to give the current list of Democratic presidential candidates no stars or less than that and this damn site won’t let me. Rome is burning and Bernie is playing the violin while Hillary plays cello. So your husband was president and you opted to look the other way on a slew of his indescretions that would get a raised eye brow from the other Bill- Bill Cosby. Benghazi, classified documents floating unsecured and Nixon had to resign? Pinocchio lies so much and so often she doesn’t even know when she’s lying. As long as we get more imbedded potential terrorists into this country in the form of refugees, I’ll go to bed feeling safe that the Iranians won’t make a bomb and use it against us so they can continue to fight proxy wars and terrorize the west. Don’t really care if your president is woman? Think that maybe she is not necessarily the heir to the throne exactly? Maybe you’d like an old time hippy communist who wants to dig deeper into your pockets to tax further and redistribute any wealth this nation might have. Yes comrade, there is a Vermont and if you let him, Bernie will turn the nation into one big Vermont- neo hippy, tree hugging, no deoderant wearing, gluten free, lesbian safe world where we are all use the same gender neutral bathrooms but men would have to sit when they piss so as to not be mysoginistic pigs. Yes everything and everyone equal but maybe some just a tad bit more equal as we will need some among us to run the new politburo. Eight more years of this silliness and we will be practicing Sharia Law and have a St. Lous style arch at the Mexican border that reads, ” Work makes you Free”. That’s if we haven’t been bombed out of our misery first. If Trump isn’t the answer, the right questions are not being posed. Come on!

When Pigs Flew Over Detroit

August 20, 2013

At 4:42 am on a July morning, angry clouds swirled and twisted as the sun behind a curtain of storm cover, began to light the sky. A loud boom and a flash of lightning hit the Fisher Body 21 building and illuminated it like a Christmas tree for a solid ten seconds. It was so beautiful to see the mother of all Detroit structural eyesores, shine as though rapture was going to take place at the site where chassis for Cadillac’s prestigious cars were once made. It has since become a haven for urban dwellers that tag walls and break windows, those who harvest metal to earn money and those without a place to live.
A semi carrying canisters of nitrous oxide slammed into the back of a livestock transporter full of pigs being taken to slaughter to make things like bacon, bacon dates, bacon bits, canned hams, ham sandwiches and so forth. The livestock transporter swayed hard to the left and then back to the right until the back end swung around and knocked the cab on its side. Sparks flew as the two large vehicles slid for the length of two football fields. A motorcyclist hit a large sow that had been released from the carriage and was running toward the motorcycle. It took several seconds for the brain of the motorcyclist to accept that a herd of pigs were running full boat towards him at daybreak, with a really angry sky and cars dodging animals and other cars on interstate 75. The motorcyclist hit a pig and flew over cars, over the barrier wall for the freeway and experienced the sensation of flying down a rollercoaster until he landed on the back of a scavenger’s truck that just happened to be driving under the freeway, filled with metal and a bedbug infested mattress to break his fall and save his life.
A car full of potential terrorists that had flown from the middle east to Canada, had hit some strip clubs and Caesar’s Windsor casino before crossing the bridge to America to punish Americans for infidelity to god, over indulgence and a lack of discipline and morals, for their weaknesses in giving in to cravings and twisted sexual desires and the idiocy of what they have seen on satellite television on Maury Povich’s paternity and infidelity shows. Infidels to be sure.
The church bus on the way to a retreat in the Upper Peninsula hit a two hundred pound plus hog and propelled it through the air and through the windshield belonging to the men on a mission to punish Americans for being Americans. They took it as a sign from Allah that maybe they were doing the wrong thing. They rationalized that if during a severe storm, Allah sends a pig through your windshield, forcing you to touch a forbidden and dirty, bloody animal during Ramadan, and then maybe it would be best to return home or at least back to Windsor.
A notoriously morally corrupt state trooper who had a knack for stopping attractive young women who were sure to be given a DUI for leaving the casinos drunk in the early morning hours, was touched by the storm and ensuing calamity of flying and running pigs, car crashes and leaking nitrous oxide. The truck with nitrous oxide that hit the livestock truck that caused the motorcyclist to fly onto a bed on the back of a beat up old truck, which distracted the church bus driver, who hit a pig that sent the pig through the windshield of wannabee terrorists (you’re not actually a terrorist unless you’re successful) who then hit the state trooper’s vehicle that was parked on the shoulder while he received oral sex from a young woman who could never have afforded the $10,000.00 in fees for a DUI, all exited their cars and watched the former Marine turned state trooper, walk through the pile up of cars with his zipper down and his bloody detached cock in his hand. The youth pastor of the church bus that was on it’s way to bring troubled inner city youth to a place they could have only dreamed of, exited the bus through a window and began to scream at the clouds. The minister truly believed that Christ had returned and took what he needed and had left the rest for Satan to sort out. The minister tried to quickly reason why it was that he had come up short. Was it the underage girl he had a relationship with when he was young and impressionable at the tender age of thirty-four? Was it the years of anti-war protests, LSD and free love back during the Vietnam days?
“You cannot leave me! I have walked the path I was shown and have shared your message for you. I have acknowledged my sins and have asked you to become my personal savior. How could you forsake me?”
The wannabee terrorists, the church campers, the truck drivers all stood around as the skies poured rain, became windy and brought about hail. Within minutes, the skies cleared and the nitrous oxide leaked and was inhaled by all that converged around the trucks. At first a few people near the leaking tanks of laughing gas, began to giggle and then others whose days and lives were temporarily ruined came over to see if the group of people were laughing or crying.
By the time the paramedics arrived, they found a rather diverse group of stunned people laughing and hugging one another. No apocalypse, no rapture, just a really bad start to a day in July. A day when pigs flew over Detroit.

Two Men and a Gator or Bombs in Detroit

May 7, 2013

People were sleeping in Detroit when Goose heard what sounded like an explosion, saw a bright light and then felt the shock wave in his chest that reminded him of a double barrel 12 gauge sawed off shot gun going off during a robbery of a party store. Goose had been feeding his pet alligator that was being hand fed catfish in the backyard of his Detroit home on a warm summer night when the explosion occurred.
A fireball, traveling at a speed of 19 miles per second, had blazed across the horizon, leaving a long white trail that could be seen as far as Montreal.
Car alarms went off, thousands of windows shattered and mobile phone networks were disrupted as well as Internet and television. Goose grabbed his four-foot alligator and carried him into the house. His cousin Rakeesh sat up on the couch that served as his bed after midnight and looked at the fuzzy television screen. He asked Goose about the explosion.
“Imma guess one of two motherfucking things; it either the terrorists and they pressure cookers or it’s the North Koreans but either way, Dee-troit is under motherfucking siege. The white folk up north done talked bout this shit and we jus think they crazy but some shit coming down right now. Git all you got which you and follow me. We taking the alligator with us. He too scared to be alone right now. I was in the backyard and seen this light that was as bright as the sun. We mighta been bombed, dog.”
The alligator was found last Christmas Eve in the field behind their home. Someone had put the alligator in a sack and dumped it. Goose saw something moving in the large burlap sack and thought it might have been a dying human. To his surprise, it was a three-foot alligator. Goose adopted the animal as his pet and loved it like a child.
The explosion was a meteorite, which weighed about 10 metric tons and may have been made of iron. It entered Earth’s atmosphere and broke apart 31 miles above ground. The energy released when it entered the Earth’s atmosphere was equivalent to the power of a small atomic weapon exploding.
“I seen this shit on TV once. We done bombed the Japanese to hell. I don’t know why the terrorist motherfuckers didn’t take out Chicago or New York or even LA. They probably was hiding out in Canada… Git dressed!”
The early-morning blast and ensuing shock wave blew out windows throughout Detroit. People were looting party stores and gas stations everywhere. Booze, beef jerky and diapers were in the arms of fleeing looters. Goose walked around holding his gator and Rakeesh walked around with loaded guns expecting to find Koreans or cab driver looking Taliban types but only found neighborhood residents running amok.

One piece of meteorite landed in the Detroit River and caused a wave that hit the GM building ten floors high. Water from the enormous wave covered Jefferson and rolled down Woodward.
Scientists knew that a meteorite had hit Detroit. Due to power outages, none of the residence knew what had occurred. Their minds ran with them and they gathered up as many items from stores as possible. Big black armored trucks with hundreds of police in riot gear surrounded the area off of Joy Road. A mousy woman’s voice came over a loud speaker.
“People… Listen! It’s not what you think. If you have anything in your possession that does not belong to you, now would be a good time to drop it and return to your homes.”
Three large Detroit cops surrounded Rakeesh and Goose who was holding his scared alligator. The cops had weapons lock and loaded ready to shoot Rakeesh and Goose if needed. They looked at the two men with the alligator with flash lights pointed in their faces and lowered their guns. A cop who was a former Iraqi War Veteran walked towards the two men and the alligator shaking his head.
“I thought I saw it all but looting an alligator is something special…”

The Naked Truth

September 29, 2011

Virgil was one of those quiet middle aged guys that would blend in at parties or picnics without notice. All the people who knew of Virgil knew that he worked as a consultant for oil companies that had interests in the Middle East. At any given time, Virgil could be gone for weeks on end and then he would be home golfing and doing wood working in his basement work shop. Nothing unusual.
Virgil and his wife Gretchen, raised twin girls that went to college and were trying to make their way through adulthood. Carter and Reagan were born on Election Day in 1980. Gretchen at the time thought it would be cute to name her fraternal twin girls after the presidential candidates. Virgil went along with this.
Carter was a thoughtful and quiet girl who loved to sing, dance and write poems. Carter always carried a few more pounds than her sister and was not very good at math. Boys found her introverted nature to be odd and so it was rare that Carter dated much during high school. At the age of thirty, her boyfriend whom she had lived with for several years, quit his job to live in a park by Wall Street and protest banks and rich people with other idealists from around the country. Carter considered quitting her job as a kindergarten teacher and joining her boyfriend but changed her mind when she thought about losing her medical and dental benefits.
Reagan was slightly taller than Carter and was thin, vibrant, active and everyone’s best friend. She met Nathan at her high priced gym and had been seeing him for close to two years. Nathan was tall, had a nice smile, full head of hair, stomach muscles, a good job, a condo with parking and a healthy bank account. Nathan loved to fuck a lot and so did Reagan but when they were not fucking, they also liked to jog together, play tennis, eat sushi, watch 30 Rock and take Tango lessons. Reagan suggested marriage and Nathan thought that the idea had some merit and so they became engaged.
Virgil on paper was a mild mannered consultant but what nobody knew about Virgil was that he worked for the CIA and was in charge of questioning suspected terrorists on their ties to terrorist groups from around the world. Sleep deprivation, constant questioning of similar words that were substituted to carefully lure a mentally broken individual into purging themselves was Virgil’s forte. There of course was food deprivation and not allowing suspects to have water but offering coffee and then denying the suspects to use of the washroom. The job was unique and actually Virgil was quite a unique guy and yet nobody really knew this about him and that is how he wanted it.
Now Virgil ran checks upon checks on Nathan and all he could find was that he was a party guy who loved fantasy sports and was treated for a Chlamydia once at age twenty two. Virgil suspected his future son-in-law was a player but could not prove anything conclusively.
Howard, one of Virgil’s drinking buddies from the CIA who had been actively working on a truth serum, felt that he had a billion dollar product that would prove to be valuable to governments and to wives everywhere; an innocuous liquid that makes a person want to spill their guts. Howard and Virgil tested the creation out on a Pakistani cab driver who they rounded up randomly. What they learned from the cab driver was that he had two other wives in Pakistan and several children. He had an orthodox Jewish woman that he was sleeping with on the side, liked to have beads stuffed in his ass and often went into tire stores just so he could smell the tires. Virgil was sold on the product and agreed with Howard that he was well on his way to being a billionaire. After much pleading and prodding, Virgil convinced Howard to attend his daughter’s wedding and administer doses of the serum into the champagne flutes of the best man, who was a life long friend of Nathan’s and into the glasses of Nathan’s parents. Virgil suspected that the wealthy people looked down at Virgil and his family and wanted to hear about it. The serum was slipped into the flutes belonging to Nathan’s best man, a man by the name of Jim but was mistakenly slipped into the glasses of Virgil’s two daughters, Carter and Reagan.
Jim stood during dinner and walked up to the microphone while still chewing his roast beef. The desire to speak became overwhelming like an itch or a burn within him.
“Um, my name is Jim and I am Nathan’s best bud. We’ve been friends since we were six and I’ve always liked Nathan even though he is selfish and pretty vain. Nathan was always better in sports than me and could always get pussy… I mean girls… and so I always rode his coat tails just to get chicks. I don’t know why Nathan wants to be married. He still is getting more ass than anyone I know and probably will always need variety. He could tell you himself about all the chicks that still call him and want to be with him. It really is crazy. Reagan is really hot but is really high maintenance and I give the whole marriage about two months before they are ready to kill each other or divorce. I hope they never have kids because they are both too caught up in themselves to really be selfless parents… Okay, that was crazy but I feel much better.”
Carter then pushed Jim away from the microphone and gripped it as if her life depended on it. Carter was out of breath and flush.
“Wow… Okay, so I just want to say that I have always loved Reagan and always wished that I was her identical twin instead of fraternal. I wanted nice legs, a pretty smile, a vibrant personality, firm tits and an ass that turns heads. I didn’t get any of those things and have always thought it was unfair. I think Reagan is really beautiful on the outside but a train wreck on the inside and I truly believe she will never be happy. I know my parents both favor her and I don’t give a fuck really…”
As Virgil was escorting his daughter Carter away from the microphone and into another room, Reagan spoke into the microphone for about five minutes on how she thought she was fat and ugly and wished that she could sing and write poems like her sister. She hated being insincere and really was scared to get old and ugly. She confided in everyone that she really did not like anal sex but did it because Nathan really liked it and that she really only had one orgasm with him in three years since he is really predictable and rough. Reagan did let everyone know that when her high school boyfriend comes into town, they always have a lot of laughs, dinner, drinks and really good sex. Virgil returned to find a lot of grumbling among guests and crying and screaming among the wedding party. The orchestra tried to smother the debacle by playing Glenn Miller’s, In the Mood. It didn’t work.
When the dust settled, Reagan had come home to live with Virgil and Gretchen again in the bedroom she occupied as a girl. She was in therapy and found that gardening really helped her to feel better in general. Nathan found a new girl and then some other new girls. Jim was not allowed around them. Carter began to speak to men with confidence and exercise a bit more. Her sex life improved as did her self esteem. Howard and Virgil still met for drinks periodically and spoke about things that guys speak about when they work for the Central Intelligence Agency. Both agreed that although billions of dollars would be fantastic and solve many of Howard’s needs and desires, humanity really was not ready for the naked truth. And that is no lie.

Menage a Trois

October 13, 2009

Menage a trois
Filed under: Short Story, obama — blackhumouristpress @ 4:59 am Edit This

Joe and Sara were high school sweethearts. Joe was four years older than Sara and so when Joe was in his last year of high school; Sara was graduating from junior high school. At 26 and 22 years of age, the difference between them was no longer and issue.
Joe and Sara married last year and at about the time of the honeymoon in Freeport, Bahamas, Joe suddenly had little interest in sex. Joe had never had never had a problem with impotence in the past but it was becoming increasingly obvious that his libido was not what it was. Something about marriage brought this about. Sara worried that the issue was that she was unattractive or not seductive enough. She followed all the directions in Cosmo Magazine on the six ways to make him scream. Joe’s Wang lay dormant against his right thigh with every new tactic. He was frustrated and angry at his own penis. Joe seriously thought he had a problem until he attended a wedding with Sara of one of her cousins in Akron, Ohio. It was at the wedding that Sara’s chubby cousin Abby, asked Joe to dance with her. Joe had always liked his thin framed wife who was a running fanatic. Sara had small breasts and thin hips and not much in the way of a buttock. Sara had a pretty face. Abby, who was the same age as Sara but lived in Akron while Sara lived in Cleveland, had always carried a little meat on her. Abby was active but was built like a female softball player. Abby had thicker legs and a round bottom with full breasts. After several glasses of champagne and wine, Joe found that while slow dancing with Abby, he had developed a full fledged erection. It was boner of the first order just like he had every morning as a boy and like he used to have upon kissing Sara on the neck. Joe held Abby close to him and was careful not to press up against her. Abby whispered something in Joe’s ear about how awkward one of the men on the dance floor looked with his gaudy tux and bad looking hair piece. There was no mistaking that Joe was rock hard. Abby was surprised at first and pulled back. She was impressed that she had that kind of an effect on Joe. After all, Abby had always considered herself second tier next to her cousin Sara. Sara was the one the guys always wanted to talk to at the movie theater or the mall when they were younger. Abby was pretty buzzed and was enjoying the night. She pressed herself against Joe and smiled up at him. Joe was slightly embarrassed until Sara teased him about it.
“Joey… It appears someone here has joined the military and is standing at perfect attention…”
Joe blushed a bit and tucked his lips in as he tried not to laugh. Abby kissed him on the cheek and rubbed her crotch against him and whispered in his ear so that nobody could tell what she was doing.
“Joey… That feels so good. If I didn’t love my cousin like a sister, I would take you out to the parking lot and fuck you raw… That sounds so crass, I’m sorry. I would take you out to the parking lot and make beautiful love with you. I’ve caught you over the years checking my tits and ass out. You’re not quick enough to look away before being caught… I’m right aren’t I, Joe?”
Joe just smiled. It was about that time that Sara came over, a bit concerned over what they were whispering back and forth. They both motioned over to the man with no rhythm with the crooked rug on his head in a powder blue tux and white shoes. Sara no longer suspected anything. Joe excused himself and went to the bathroom of the banquet hall. There was a black man hired as an attendant in a tux with tails who had a raspy voice like Louis Armstrong. He hummed Celebration by the Commodores that played loudly on the dance floor while he handed a man a paper towel and asked him if he wanted a squirt of cologne. The white man asked if the Louis Armstrong look and sound a like if he had heard the score of the Cleveland Indians against The Boston Red Sox.
“Well sir, I ain’t hoyd the radio since I come to work. I know they was winning in the thoid an that only is cause they have Sabathia pitchin. If they could pitch him and Cliff Lee everyday, they’d never lose.”
“Amazing isn’t it?” Said the stuffy man who wouldn’t normally talk to a bathroom attendant except for the fact that he was riding high on whiskey sours. “They have two Cy Young winners and not a damn guy who can hit. It’s sad. I love going to watch the Indians. It’s such a great stadium but the team stinks.”
While talk of baseball went on, Joe pulled his stiff member from his pants and jerked away at it. He closed his eyes and imagined Abby’s wide ass in the air and his hands wrapped around her, clutching her large breasts while and kissing her on the neck. He then imagined her telling him to slip it into her ass.
“I know you love my fat ass, Joey. Put it in my crapper…”
Joe came all over the wall. It took a little over a minute and the two men were still agonizing over the Cleveland Indians. Joe mopped up the cum that dribbled on the toilet seat and that was dripping down the wall. He stood there trying to urinate for a good minute. He zipped up, washed his hands and joined in on the conversation about the Indians. Joe then returned to the table where Abby and Sara were talking. They continued to drink and Abby flirted out in the open in front of Sara. As drunk as Sara was, she was taken back by her cousin. Joe’s mind was temporarily clear and so he did not engage in the flirting. About one in the morning, Joe hailed a cab to get them to their hotel. Sara barely got in the cab and closed the door before she started hitting Joe with questions.
“So you two have something going on, don’t you?”
“She’s just buzzed… She’s known me forever and just feels comfortable with me…”
“Yeah? She told me you had a fucking hard on while you two danced. Is that true? You were rubbing your cock on my cousin’s twat? You can’t fucking get hard anymore with me but with Abby, you’re ready to go, huh?”
The cab driver alternated between watching the road and the drama in the back seat. Both Joe and Sara were too drunk to notice. Joe was prone to be honest after drinking heavily and so he told his wife what was so appealing to him about Abby. That night Sara slept on the hide a bed in the living room of their hotel suite. Joe fell asleep pretty quickly but Sara stayed up thinking about the whole thing. In the morning she climbed into bed and kissed Joe until his eyes opened. Joe was surprised. He opened his eyes as he lay on his side and just looked at his smiling wife.
“I’m not mad at you, Joe. I thought about it and know that guys get bored and some times want a different flavor. I’m totally not cool with you having affairs and prostitutes but gave it some thought last night… I think Abby would be totally cool with a three some and I think that is something you would really want.” Said Sara.
“This is a tactic to get me to admit what I really think and want and then you’re going to scream and throw shit, right?”
“Absolutely not. I will allow you anything but fucking her. That is sacred between us… The caveat is that I have to be there in bed with both of you.”
Joe was excited. He wanted her to call Abby. He thought that they could have breakfast and then come back to bed and fuck all afternoon. He pictured himself eating Abby out and maybe even slipping his tongue up her wide ass and when the desire became overwhelming to put it in her, he would pop it in his wife who would be in the corner finger diddling herself. Joe then visualized giving it to his wife from behind and while she licked her own cousin’s cunt and tits. Joe was almost trembling with desire.
“Can you call her now?”

Sara had more class than that and her ultimate idea was to bring zest back into their bedroom. Sara discussed going to their grandfather’s cottage near New Buffalo, Michigan, right off the shores of Lake Michigan. Sara set it all up. Sara had started menstruating on Monday and by Friday; she was already for action again. Joe went into her bathroom to see if there was another X on the calendar in her bathroom. It was a calendar of various cats. Sara loved cats. The cat of the month was a Siamese. All Joe could think about was climbing all over Abby. It was going to be great. The only thing that might ruin things is if Abby had her period. Joe brought it up to Sara and Sara asked Abby. Everything was clear. Joe tried not to look too excited by that news but he was jumping up and down inside.
Joe and Sara picked up Abby on a day that had a clear fall day with a hot breeze. Joe took the top down to his Jeep and packed the cooler with sandwiches and beer. Abby got in and sat in the back and said barely a word as they headed west towards Lake Michigan on the Indiana Toll Road. Joe tried hard not to speed but if he could have gone a 100, he would have. Joe began to notice Sara and Abby were unusually quiet and feeling awkward. They both had their arms folded and were staring out of their sides of the Jeep. Joe saw signs for wineries and decided that he would hit a few of them with the girls. Both girls were happy to sample some reds and whites. They hit four in a five mile area and were beginning to get giggly. At the last one called Hickory Creek; the older man opened up a bottle and gave them all a healthy pour and then poured another for them and poured one for himself. The older guy with a gentle smile discussed the wineries he visited all over the world and was most satisfied in Michigan of all places. Joe bought six bottles of assorted red and rushed to the cottage. The girls carried in their back packs and Joe carried in the cooler and case of wine. They stood in the living room and looked at each other and laughed. It felt very junior high to them all at that moment. Joe attempted to down play the whole thing and he was buzzed enough to do it.
“Okay… We’ve all had sex before but just not with each other. I think we know one another to be cool with this…”
Joe went to one of the three bathrooms and washed his nuts, cock and armpits and popped some mints into his mouth. He emerged from the bathroom ready to go. Sara asked him to go down to the basement to get the extra pillows that her grandfather kept in storage. Joe pulled the light chain and jogged down the stairs. It was dark in one corner but it looked to him like there were people sitting on the couch. It scared him. He pulled the next chain to illuminate the entire basement. Sitting in the corner on the couch were two Indian looking men with large beards. These weren’t the Indians that Columbus found when he landed on the island of Hispaniola or modern day Haiti and Dominican Republic, these too were not the mini mart “hello my friend” Indians. They were Pakistani convicts that had lived two years in Guantanamo Bay Cuba. They had been Cricket players that had given large amounts of money to a mosque in suburban Detroit to help build schools in Pakistan. The money was placed in an account to help fund terrorist activities and training in Afghanistan. Amir and Amal had no idea that their money was being used to fund terrorism. They were born and raised in Pakistan. They had played professional Cricket for Pakistan and were supposed to marry identical twin girls who were also Pakistani in the states. They arrived at O’Hare Airport in Chicago to meet their future wives. There they were; two clean cut Pakistani athletes who happened to be identical twins, meeting their future wives who were also identical twins. As they cleared the door way, they saw the two women that were to be their wives. They wore different color head scarves to differentiate them just as Amal wore black and Amir wore white. The moment they stepped off the plane in Chicago, several white men in suits with ear pieces and sun glasses, hustled them away. They had a bag placed over their heads and when the hoods were removed they were in Cuba. For two years.
President Obama got the idea to close the base and scatter the prisoners all over the country. Amir and Amal wound up in a prison near Benton Harbor, Michigan. They were in charge of cooking and were helping the delivery guy load cheese and meat in through a service door. The guard responsible for watching them, was fighting with his wife on his cell phone when Amal and Amir, held a box cutter against the neck of the delivery driver. They tied him up and dumped the truck near Stevensville, Michigan before they stole a car at a gas station. They then parked the car and took off on foot, wearing surgical colored clothes. The luck of the draw brought them to the same cottage that Joe, Sara and Abby were going to have their ménage a trois. The give away that the place was vacant was the sign on the window to the mailman to have their mail diverted back to the girl’s grandparent’s winter home in Florida.
Joe stood there motionless in his Ohio State t shirt and Indians hat. The Indians hat had the ridiculous image of a big nosed smiling Indian in the center of the cap. It looked a lot like Amir. Amal laughed at the hat and told his brother in their language that he resembled the figure on the cap. He poked his brother with the shot gun barrel and told him to shut up.
“Take that fucking hat off your head,” said Amir.
“If you yell, I vill kill you. If you reach into your pockets, I vill kill you… Do you understand me?” Said Amir.
The two bearded men lead Joe upstairs into the bedroom where Sara and Abby were naked, kissing each other in the bed while drinking red wine from the bottle. They hadn’t stopped to acknowledge Joe or the other two men standing behind him. Amal yelled out.
“Put on your clothes… Now!”
The two identical twins had become more religious in Cuba. They had gone from rather secular people to believing that America and Americans were pure evil. Upon finding out that Abby and Sara were cousins, ready to partake in sex with Sara’s husband they were convinced that evil reigned supreme among the average American. Case in point; naked cousins, drinking and having sex with each other. While getting dressed, Sara pushed 911 on her cell phone. She coughed when the woman came on to address her. She started asking the men if they were going to kill them.
“Are you going to kill us? If so, just go ahead and shoot all of us. We just ask you not to cut our heads off and put it on Youtube. We don’t want to be part of some martyr crusade to kill innocent Americans. We just came to have a nice weekend at our grandfather’s cabin, Pete Miller who lives in Florida and comes here to New Buffalo for the summers. We don’t want to die… We have nothing against you people…”
The dispatcher quietly dispatched police to the cottage and listened as Sara spoke to the twin men.
“Shut your mouth… Shut up! You people, You people… Vat dee ell does you people mean. Terrorists? Vee grow beards and vee are obviously terrorists, right? Vell Vee are not terrorists and ve are going to get to Canada and find our way back to Pakistan. So as they say here; shut the fuck up, bitch.”
Amir and Amal duct taped the three of them to chairs and grabbed the keys to Joe’s Jeep and headed out on the highway. The two men’s beards rippled in the wind. Tire spikes popped the air out of the tires and the Jeep nearly tipped over. Michigan State troopers and local police swarmed to the scene. The two brothers were taken back to the prison. The official word was unofficial and the prison authorities fabricated a storey for the press. Nobody knew that accused terrorists were living on American soil. They knew that was the plan because it was being thrown around as an idea even though it was already being done. Luckily it was kept under wraps. Nobody knew about Amal and Amir. The cops cut the tape off of the three of them and questioned them for several hours. About midnight, they were allowed to go back to the cottage. Joe knew that the escapees had killed the mood. He was hoping that a glass or two of wine would bring back the feeling. Joe hugged both women at the same time and Abby pushed them both away.
“Look, I love you both and I was willing to do this more for both of you and whatever hang ups you both have… I really believe this was a sign from god to not do this. I mean, god sends us clues and this was a really big fucking clue. We could have been executed by those two freaks… I’m sorry but I can’t go through this,” said Abby.
Sara chimed in.
“You’re totally right, Abs… I really think this was a message to all of us. It’s just too weird and I’m sorry I suggested it… What do you think, Joe?”
Joe was too disappointed to say anything and knew that this whole episode would make his member turtle up for some time to come.
“I don’t know what to say… It’s definitely bad karma…”
At the same time, Amir and Amal thought the same thing. It was a day of dashed hopes for all by coincidence or possibly divine providence. It all depends on what you believe.

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