A Beast is Born!
Out at the Maryland animal sanctuary, famed animal whisperer Sebastian L'Arche had been summoned because geriatric cow Megamoo had gone into pre-mature labor. Though well past her fertile years, and without any known exposure to a bull, Megamoo had become pregnant shortly after the Presidential Election. Even those not prone to spiritual beliefs or even mild superstitions were certain this was an extremely unnatural phenomenon, and this had been confirmed by the veterinarian's inexplicable ability to obtain a clear ultrasound of the creature in the womb. Sebastian, for his part, had no doubt on that point since his earlier visit, and had brought to the sanctuary several different items that might kill the creature--though he was not entirely certain if the sanctuary workers would agree. Sebastian did not arrive alone: in addition to his business partner Becky Hartley, the pending birth had prompted the uninvited arrival of Ghost Pippin and her pack of feral feline phantasms, The Gopper Ghost and his pack of canine specters (including the Samoyed Ghost Anatoly), a flock of starlings spying for Ardua of the Potomac, and a raven watching carefully from the barn rafters.
Meanwhile, with Trump absent from the White House, Steve Bannon and his private security staff were running wild: strippers, whiskey bottles, chicken wings, and moon pies were scattered everywhere from the movie theater to the putting green. It was very distracting for conspiracy theorist Glenn Michael Beckmann, who had been smuggled in by security guard Randy "Bubba" Blaylock to get an exclusive scoop for his blog. "Is Bannon the leaker?" asked Beckmann. "Did he spill the beans on Trump's meeting with the Russians?"
"When you make a deal with the devil, he will enforce it!" hollered Bubba, who wheeled suddenly to start shooting at a Turner watercolor he thought was mocking him and his (cursed, whispering) Rolex.
"Is Bannon really Satan?" asked Beckmann, watching a horrified Omarosa kick a groping Bannon staffer in the shin before managing to barricade herself in her office.
"Did Judas serve the devil's purpose or God's purpose?" countered Bubba, opening his fly to piss into a peace plant pot.
A naked woman then ran past them, laughing heartily, as Steve Bannon drunk-drove a motorized wheelchair crookedly in pursuit, wearing nothing but a MAGA baseball cap and a feather boa. Beckmann knocked over the wheelchair and raced off to catch the woman himself.
"Alt-Right One down!" yelled Bubba, zipping his fly back up, then shooting the rebel wheelchair, causing Bannon to erupt in peals of hyena laughter as he crawled away from the American carnage.
Over at the State Department, the Assistant Deputy Administrator for American Carnage (the ADAfAC) was stress-eating an entire bag of potato chips while his pint of ice cream softened up. "I wrote the speech!" he muttered, his mouth full. "It was full of nuance! Saudis, Iran--this isn't stuff for MAGA speeches!" He paused to stab a spoon at the ice cream again, then swore at its recalcitrant hardness. "I told you not to bring me ice cream unless it's softened!" he screamed out the door at "C. Coe Phant", who had become his personal slave in an effort to avoid losing his job to State Department cuts. Phant ran in with a different pint he had been sitting on and silently replaced the hard one on the ADAfAC's desk, not even raising his eyes to acknowledge the presence of triple agent Charles Wu. "What does Tillerson do? Make an asinine, nonsensical comment about free speech. FREE SPEECH! They don't DO it in Saudi Arabia! Do they do it here? NOT FOR LONG! Do they do it in Iran? YES! Up is down, down is up, Obama can't bow, Trump can bow, Michelle should have worn a head scarf. No, she did! Photo shop it! Criticize her for wearing it! Criticize her for not wearing it! The Deplorables will re-Tweet whatever you say. It's a propaganda state now! That's what he says!" concluded the ADAfAC, gesturing out the doorway where C. Coe Phant was presumably still standing at attention. "Do you want some?"
Wu declined graciously, and the ADAfAC went back to shoveling it into his mouth. "It's contraband," he said, his mouth full. "Ben and Jerry's Americone Dream--the Stephen Colbert flavor. Can't eat it while Tillerson's in the house! The cat's away, the mice will play, HA HA HA HA! When he gets back, we have to eat that silly Texas brand."
"Hm," nodded Wu, sympathetically. Every day, Beijing asked him what the toddler in the White House would do next. ("Whatever Jared tells him," was not the most helpful information he could pass along, but it was the most truthful. And Tillerson was just a mouthpiece.) "I do have some Russian information you might find useful," said Wu, who was now getting a floodgate of leaks from the Russians staying at Trump International Hotel, courtesy of reluctant spy Chloe Cleavage.
"Really?!" laughed the ADAfAC. "Something the Russians won't leak themselves to the New York Times? Something Paul Ryan's enemies didn't tape-record and release at an inopportune time? Something which the 95% of FBI employees still loyal to James Comey won't leak to the Washington Post? Something McMaster won't leak to CNN as a warning to Pence's incoming Administration that nobody's saying the Special Counsel would disappear just because Trump gets impeached?"
"Something else," nodded Wu. "Something you will want to know before Trump visits NATO."
"Visits NATO?!" howled the ADAfAC. "If by 'visit' you mean read a prepared statement while Melania flashes her spray-tan smile and cleavage around to distract the generals, then start ad-libbing nuggets of Presidential wisdom about things like 'where's the dividing line between the North Atlantic and the South Atlantic? Treaty Organization is such an old-fashioned term! Let's sign a deal, the most beautiful deal in the history of American deals! Why shouldn't Russia be a member of NATO? Wouldn't that help them smooth things out with Ukraine? Speaking of Ukraine, can somebody explain to me about Georgia? Is there a Georgia in Russia? That doesn't seem right. I love Slavs! Slavs are very misunderstood. Usually I prefer blonds, but Melania's hot, right?'"
"Sir," said C. Coe Phant, re-entering the room, "it's time for your afternoon prescription." He handed the ADAfAC a Ritalin pill and a tablet with a porn video pulled up on it.
"Ah," sighed the ADAfAC. "Charles, you can tell him your Russian stuff. I need to be alone for half an hour."
Back at the White House, butler Clio was hunkered down with gardener Bridge in her East Wing office. They knew it would get bad after the Head Usher was fired, but never in a million years could they have anticipated that the acts of debauchery would snowball into an actual booze-filled orgy involving a dozen staffers and a cast of questionable characters brought in to party with them. "To think, I once had my children living here with me!" Clio said, shaking her head as she thought about the years after twins Regina and Ferguson had been born during a White House lockdown.
Oh, they still are, thought Bridge, who knew that Ghost Dennis was fulfilling his father-figure role with a vengeance right now, herding the ghost pre-schoolers away from the excesses. Bridge used to think Reggie and Fergie were the naughtiest things in the White House, but they seemed more angelic every day.
Back at the animal sanctuary, Megamoo gave out one final bellow as she forced the unwelcome resident out of her womb and onto the straw. Everyone stared at the hideous creature, which appeared to be a mixture of cow, lizard, rat, mushroom, and vulture. The nervous veterinarian cut the umbilical cord, then looked around to see what the consensus of the group would be. The Gopper Ghost and Anatoly prepared to maul the evil creature to death, but first Megamoo jumped to her feet and started trampling it herself. Everybody backed away from the dangerous flying hooves, but the creature started snarling, unfurled its wings, and quickly flew out of the barn.
"Pull over now," said Angela de la Paz to her boyfriend, a half-mile from that barn. "It's already loose." She jumped out of the car, spotted it in the sky, held up her hand to it, then watched it crash to the ground. She got back in, and FBI agent Dulles Samuelson smiled at her silently, then put the car back in gear. They still had to dissolve it with the gallon of holy water they had siphoned at the Shrine.
*************************************************************
COMING UP:
Jefferson Beauregard Sessions schemes to incarcerate
10 million more minorities before November 2018!
Meanwhile, with Trump absent from the White House, Steve Bannon and his private security staff were running wild: strippers, whiskey bottles, chicken wings, and moon pies were scattered everywhere from the movie theater to the putting green. It was very distracting for conspiracy theorist Glenn Michael Beckmann, who had been smuggled in by security guard Randy "Bubba" Blaylock to get an exclusive scoop for his blog. "Is Bannon the leaker?" asked Beckmann. "Did he spill the beans on Trump's meeting with the Russians?"
"When you make a deal with the devil, he will enforce it!" hollered Bubba, who wheeled suddenly to start shooting at a Turner watercolor he thought was mocking him and his (cursed, whispering) Rolex.
"Is Bannon really Satan?" asked Beckmann, watching a horrified Omarosa kick a groping Bannon staffer in the shin before managing to barricade herself in her office.
"Did Judas serve the devil's purpose or God's purpose?" countered Bubba, opening his fly to piss into a peace plant pot.
A naked woman then ran past them, laughing heartily, as Steve Bannon drunk-drove a motorized wheelchair crookedly in pursuit, wearing nothing but a MAGA baseball cap and a feather boa. Beckmann knocked over the wheelchair and raced off to catch the woman himself.
"Alt-Right One down!" yelled Bubba, zipping his fly back up, then shooting the rebel wheelchair, causing Bannon to erupt in peals of hyena laughter as he crawled away from the American carnage.
Over at the State Department, the Assistant Deputy Administrator for American Carnage (the ADAfAC) was stress-eating an entire bag of potato chips while his pint of ice cream softened up. "I wrote the speech!" he muttered, his mouth full. "It was full of nuance! Saudis, Iran--this isn't stuff for MAGA speeches!" He paused to stab a spoon at the ice cream again, then swore at its recalcitrant hardness. "I told you not to bring me ice cream unless it's softened!" he screamed out the door at "C. Coe Phant", who had become his personal slave in an effort to avoid losing his job to State Department cuts. Phant ran in with a different pint he had been sitting on and silently replaced the hard one on the ADAfAC's desk, not even raising his eyes to acknowledge the presence of triple agent Charles Wu. "What does Tillerson do? Make an asinine, nonsensical comment about free speech. FREE SPEECH! They don't DO it in Saudi Arabia! Do they do it here? NOT FOR LONG! Do they do it in Iran? YES! Up is down, down is up, Obama can't bow, Trump can bow, Michelle should have worn a head scarf. No, she did! Photo shop it! Criticize her for wearing it! Criticize her for not wearing it! The Deplorables will re-Tweet whatever you say. It's a propaganda state now! That's what he says!" concluded the ADAfAC, gesturing out the doorway where C. Coe Phant was presumably still standing at attention. "Do you want some?"
Wu declined graciously, and the ADAfAC went back to shoveling it into his mouth. "It's contraband," he said, his mouth full. "Ben and Jerry's Americone Dream--the Stephen Colbert flavor. Can't eat it while Tillerson's in the house! The cat's away, the mice will play, HA HA HA HA! When he gets back, we have to eat that silly Texas brand."
"Hm," nodded Wu, sympathetically. Every day, Beijing asked him what the toddler in the White House would do next. ("Whatever Jared tells him," was not the most helpful information he could pass along, but it was the most truthful. And Tillerson was just a mouthpiece.) "I do have some Russian information you might find useful," said Wu, who was now getting a floodgate of leaks from the Russians staying at Trump International Hotel, courtesy of reluctant spy Chloe Cleavage.
"Really?!" laughed the ADAfAC. "Something the Russians won't leak themselves to the New York Times? Something Paul Ryan's enemies didn't tape-record and release at an inopportune time? Something which the 95% of FBI employees still loyal to James Comey won't leak to the Washington Post? Something McMaster won't leak to CNN as a warning to Pence's incoming Administration that nobody's saying the Special Counsel would disappear just because Trump gets impeached?"
"Something else," nodded Wu. "Something you will want to know before Trump visits NATO."
"Visits NATO?!" howled the ADAfAC. "If by 'visit' you mean read a prepared statement while Melania flashes her spray-tan smile and cleavage around to distract the generals, then start ad-libbing nuggets of Presidential wisdom about things like 'where's the dividing line between the North Atlantic and the South Atlantic? Treaty Organization is such an old-fashioned term! Let's sign a deal, the most beautiful deal in the history of American deals! Why shouldn't Russia be a member of NATO? Wouldn't that help them smooth things out with Ukraine? Speaking of Ukraine, can somebody explain to me about Georgia? Is there a Georgia in Russia? That doesn't seem right. I love Slavs! Slavs are very misunderstood. Usually I prefer blonds, but Melania's hot, right?'"
"Sir," said C. Coe Phant, re-entering the room, "it's time for your afternoon prescription." He handed the ADAfAC a Ritalin pill and a tablet with a porn video pulled up on it.
"Ah," sighed the ADAfAC. "Charles, you can tell him your Russian stuff. I need to be alone for half an hour."
Back at the White House, butler Clio was hunkered down with gardener Bridge in her East Wing office. They knew it would get bad after the Head Usher was fired, but never in a million years could they have anticipated that the acts of debauchery would snowball into an actual booze-filled orgy involving a dozen staffers and a cast of questionable characters brought in to party with them. "To think, I once had my children living here with me!" Clio said, shaking her head as she thought about the years after twins Regina and Ferguson had been born during a White House lockdown.
Oh, they still are, thought Bridge, who knew that Ghost Dennis was fulfilling his father-figure role with a vengeance right now, herding the ghost pre-schoolers away from the excesses. Bridge used to think Reggie and Fergie were the naughtiest things in the White House, but they seemed more angelic every day.
Back at the animal sanctuary, Megamoo gave out one final bellow as she forced the unwelcome resident out of her womb and onto the straw. Everyone stared at the hideous creature, which appeared to be a mixture of cow, lizard, rat, mushroom, and vulture. The nervous veterinarian cut the umbilical cord, then looked around to see what the consensus of the group would be. The Gopper Ghost and Anatoly prepared to maul the evil creature to death, but first Megamoo jumped to her feet and started trampling it herself. Everybody backed away from the dangerous flying hooves, but the creature started snarling, unfurled its wings, and quickly flew out of the barn.
"Pull over now," said Angela de la Paz to her boyfriend, a half-mile from that barn. "It's already loose." She jumped out of the car, spotted it in the sky, held up her hand to it, then watched it crash to the ground. She got back in, and FBI agent Dulles Samuelson smiled at her silently, then put the car back in gear. They still had to dissolve it with the gallon of holy water they had siphoned at the Shrine.
*************************************************************
COMING UP:
Jefferson Beauregard Sessions schemes to incarcerate
10 million more minorities before November 2018!
posted by washingtonwaterwoman | 2:16 PM
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