Washington Horror Blog

SEMI-FICTIONAL CHRONICLE of the EVIL THAT INFECTS WASHINGTON, D.C. To read Prologue and Character Guide, please see www.washingtonhorrorblog.com, updated 6/6//2017. Follow Washington Water Woman on Twitter @HorrorDC ....

Saturday, January 21, 2017

Resistance!

Militiaman and conspiracy blogger Glenn Michael Beckmann was feeling completely out of his element, having been dragged to the Women's March by his roommate, Brittani.

"Come on, Glenn, smile!  This is resistance!  You hate Trump!  You spent hours yesterday blocking that security point to keep his supporters from going to that parade!"

"I wouldn't have bothered if I had known how few people were coming for it!" he replied.

"Isn't this fun?" she teased.

"I don't see why I have to wear this pink hat," he replied.

"Because your camouflage clothes would have scared people without it!" Brittani retorted.

"Ashley Judd did kick some ass in that 'Divergent' movie, but her speech here was a little over the top, don't you think?"

"We all need to go over the top every now and then!" laughed Brittani, who was still a silly 15-year-old girl in many ways, but needed to grow up fast after the Nazi lunacy and demonic traumas she had witnessed in 2016.

Beckmann was armed with two guns, three knives, and four hand grenades, but he had never been more confused in his life about what his militiamen should be fighting for.  And now he was reading a sign saying vaginas were stronger than balls!  "Can we go home now?  I think it's gonna rain."

Meanwhile, Coretta Rosa McIntyre, Goode Peepz law firm's newest Harvard Law hire, was sorry to miss the Women's March, but she was not yet done preparing all the Freedom of Information Act requests and court filings the firm wanted to do a press conference about Monday morning.  The only visible sign that she had taken any break at all was a color-printed screen-grab she had pinned to her bulletin board:  "The arc of history bends slowly, but it bends toward punching Nazis"--complete with a still frame of Richard Spencer's being punched on live television.

Over at the Arlington Group Home for the Mentally Challenged, social worker Hue Nguyen was taking a dimmer view of physical assault.  The Home had long prided itself on being co-ed and inclusive, but things had taken a sudden turn after the inauguration, with all the women complaining that Larry and Buckner were groping them whenever the social worker on duty was not around.  Larry insisted it was a lie and that the women were just riled up about the Women's March in DC, while Buckner claimed he was only trying to be a macho man like President Trump.

"Don't say 'President Trump' in here, you Russian traitor!" cried Cedric, clutching his teddy bear Aloysius.  "As soon as he visits the CIA, whammo!  They have a hundred ways to kill him and make it look like an old man with blubbery cholesterol died a natural death!"

"Cedric!" exclaimed Hue Nguyen, the social worker on duty.

"Or the Ghost CIA will just scare him to death!  Ghost Henry gets scarier every time I see him."

"Killing is never the answer," said Nguyen.

"It is if you're defending somebody else from getting killed!" said Theresa.

"Like that Nazi who got punched during the ABC interview!" giggled Melinda.  "Bam!"

"Only the appropriate law enforcement authorities--" began Nguyen.

"He controls them all now!" said Buckner.

"Shut up, you groper!" exclaimed Theresa.

"Yes, this is what we need to discuss," said the social worker.  "Private parts are private parts here.  If we cannot maintain these simple rules, you might all end up in a living arrangement you like a lot less."

"It's not like I whipped my private parts out!" protested Buckner.

"You grabbed mine!" cried Melinda.

"You still had your clothes on!" retorted Buckner.  "It's just locker room fun, like our President said."

"Stop calling him that!" exclaimed Cedric.  "You're upsetting Aloysius!"

It was then that the group home's helping dog Millie decided to take things into her own hands--or, rather, her own jaws--clamping her mouth down on Buckner's genitalia.  The man yelped in pain, causing Theresa and Melinda to laugh and clap their hands.

"Millie!" cried the social worker, but the dog held on.

"Now, how does it feel?!" Melinda taunted Buckner.

"Alright, alright!  I'll stop grabbing your pu--"

"Don't say it!" admonished the social worker.  "Larry, what about you?"

"I never groped anybody," he lied, causing Millie to let go of Buckner and wrap her teeth around Larry's private parts.  "Ow!  Alright, alright, I'll stop!"

"This is an important issue," said Freddy Ritchings (AKA Brother Divine of the International Peace Movement).  "I must preach on this tomorrow during my Church of Twitter service!"

"You mention my name on Twitter, I'll kill you!" exclaimed Buckner.

"The names will be changed to protect the innocent!" said Freddy.  "The times will be changed to protect the reticent!  The colors will be changed to protect the indigent!  The flowers will be changed to protect the magnificent!"

"That makes no sense," said Theresa, now petting her protector, Millie.

Does it ever? asked Aloysius.

Over at the White House, reluctant CIA agent Dr. Ermann Esse had made unexpected progress in getting close to President Trump.  Though his undercover identity as fashion designer "Gunther Zimmer" had not gotten him very far in October, it was a different story now that it was clear how many fashion designers were refusing to make clothes for Melania.  Suddenly a favorite of the First Lady, the psychiatrist now found himself frequently having bizarre conversations with her and making crazy dress sketches to capture her whims--sketches he would get to his CIA handlers as soon as possible so that they could get the clothing actually made.  And now she was advertising the fashions on the taxpayer-funded White House website!  "Isn't that illegal?" he had asked his handlers.

"You let the sequestered FBI Grand Jury deal with that," they had replied.  "Your job is hypnotism!"

And so "Gunther" desperately tried to psychoanalyze the First Lady, whose Slovenian psyche and shady rise to the top made for a far different patient than any he had ever had before.  The shrink could not hypnotize her until he understood what her soft spot was, and that he still had not found.

Back at the Women's March, Dr. Khalid Mohammad kept turning to look at the face of his wife, Yasmin, who was enthralled by the speakers.  Khalid had done the one thing you are never supposed to do--marry somebody in hopes of changing them--but Yasmin really was changing.  She kept touching her pregnant belly and smiling, proud to be a woman and happy to be in a huge crowd where Muslims were welcome.  (She no longer wore a head scarf, but was happy to see some women did.)  "This is the best thing I have ever done!" she exclaimed, turning to kiss her husband, and Khalid smiled, wondering who this woman was.

***************************************************
COMING UP:  The State Department's Assistant Deputy Administrator for Hope 
has a new title-- 
Assistant Deputy Administrator for Carnage!

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