March 15, 2010
Drone Wars: Time Wounds All Heels
At the local airport transvestite gunmen swiveled large caliber machine guns mounted on black electric Humvees. Cross-dressing snipers surveyed the ground from rooftops. Bomb sniffing dogs with spiked collars strained against leashes. The young President had never visited Concord, New Hampshire, before. Transsexual soldiers lined the streets and guarded the hotel where he held his press conference. Security was extra tight.
"What do you want to be when you grow up?" the President asked the young girl next to him.
She answered in Spanish.
"What the hell did she say?" he looked blankly at the translator.
The man flipped through his dictionary: "An assassin, sir. Or more exactly: A paid assassin."
It was a pornographic reenactment of the news. The President had just flown in from the nation's capitol to save the little girl from a child molester -- played, despite his vigorous protest, by anchorman Michael Michaels.
No one, however, was really all that surprised by how quickly the news-anchor warmed to the villain role. He took to it like a fish takes to water. Best of all he liked hiding behind bushes and spying on little girls. The setup was perfect. Michael Michaels' character was a janitor at the local elementary school. Across the parking lot was a recreation center complete with outdoor swimming pool. He knew the little girl. She almost always cut across the school grounds to get home. It was much shorter than walking all the way around the block. The sun was coming down. A cool breeze blew out of the north, and the air was as clean and clear as the sharp chime of a silver bell. It was just a matter of time before she would show up, so he made himself look busy by pretending to work on the sprinklers.
When she finally came listlessly ambling along the path with her heart-shaped sunglasses on Michael Michaels popped out from behind a tree and in the creepiest voice he could muster asked her if she wanted to get high.
At the edge of a sand trap off the 10th green of the public golf course they found a little secluded place to sit. She was expecting the janitor to spark up a joint, but he popped the cork off a menacing looking brown bottle instead and poured some of the contents over a white rag. "Hold it up to your nose," he instructed her. She brought the soaked rag close to her face, like she was told, but snapped her head back with disgust as soon as she got a good whiff of the harsh chemical fumes.
"I tried to hand the rag back to him," she sheepishly told the President, still a little nauseous from having been drugged, "but he shoved the rag into my face and held his hand over it until I passed out. I went in and out of consciousness. The first time I woke up everything was hazy, but I remember my jeans were unzipped and he was pulling down my underpants. The next time I came to, I don't know how much time had elapsed, but he was leaning over me, about to do something else to me, something awful, I'm sure. Thank heavens you arrived when you did, Mr. President! You showed up just in the nick of time! I feel a great debt to my country. Thank you so much, Mr. President! How can I ever repay your kindness?"
"If you are even half the patriot I think you are, little girl," the young President looked her deep in her eyes, "I think I know just how you can help the national cause."
The porn star's pubic hair was flocked white to make it appear more presidential. The young girl did a fantastic job in her role. She was supposed to look awestruck by the size of his Presidential member. And so she did. The idea was that his oversized organ was a challenge to her delicate womanhood, and the young sex worker clearly went about her job voraciously.
The administration wanted to make a show of force in New Hampshire. Against the protests of the anchorman they insisted the network use a ringer for the lead role. They were very clear about their conditions. Basically, they had The Incredible Hulk in mind. "We want a big green elephant dick," they demanded in no uncertain terms. Their press people also insisted that the little girl look "virginal, fair skinned, and be a natural blonde." President 'Marshall Law', as the media dubbed him, wanted the citizens of the "Live Free or Die" state to know how serious the Administration was.
All it would take to bring Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine back into the fold, administration insiders believed, was a little tough love from an angry superhero and who better than The Incredible Hulk?
"A little roughhousing in the rumpus room," the President's Chief of Staff insinuated, "Get my meaning?"
The Michigan secessionist movement would fall next as would those in the surrounding outlying states. After the President saved the girl from the evil child molester, a feat of bravery that clearly made him out as the champion of the narrative, Federal government officials figured all it would take was a little hard green on white interracial anal sex to swing public opinion in their favor.
"The dissident insurgents will see themselves as the perverted sexual deviant janitor," the Chief of Staff explained. "The breakaway states will see themselves as the young white girl splayed on the floor pinned on her stomach under the weight of The Incredible Hulk."
In Version XXVIII of Drone Wars New Englanders would get the message that they were up against a giant green hammer of a dick in the White House, and after a little bit of unrelenting hard action, after several dozen enthusiastic, dynamic, and forceful thrusts, say, those states would grab their exposed pink sore asses and beg to be allowed back into The Union.
"Look at her go," the anchorman drooled enviously. "Little Vaseline," he called her.
No one could blame the young sex worker for not doing her job. Out on the set she was a little firecracker. Even Michael Michaels commented how cute she looked in her pigtails and what a hard worker she was. In fact, seeing her in action like that he began, all over again, to complain loudly about the decision by the network to cave to Administration demands and not to let him play President 'Marshall Law'. Despite the young girl's care and attention, the green Commander-in-Chief, who bulged in every other regard, was struggling mightily under the hot spotlights with the 'task at hand'.
"Could be me out there," Michael Michaels harangued his producer, "you know, good old Mr. Reliable in the sack. Just paint my dick green," he protested.
"I could be wrong, but somehow, even if the flaccid member does look environmentally friendly, I really don't think erectile dysfunction is the message the White House wants to put out there right now," Michael Michaels refused to relent.
"And, furthermore, if I can speak my mind plainly, may I say," the anchorman reflected, "I think the Administration is in over their heads with this latest campaign. They are sending so many mixed signals they might easily bungle the whole thing. For starters take The Incredible Hulk as example. He is such an odd choice for the protagonist. As superheroes go, he's not much of a joiner. He's more of a tortured loner. Besides the fact that the guy the Administration insisted play the Commander-in-Chief doesn't even look like The Incredible Hulk. He looks much more like The Jolly Green Giant, and, I ask you, who in their right mind wants to think of interracial anal sex when they eat their peas and corn?"
--Daniel Mendel-Black, copyright 2010
