Twists and Turns
My daddy taught me not to make fun of nor pick on the disabled, the
infirm, the poor, and especially those with twisted mental capacity, so
I won't be mentioning any names here. Our hero, who shall remain unnamed,
and definitely does not believe in democracy or he would have said, "the
jobs yours, Al, you got half a million more votes," is in a hypothetical
state of inebriation forced upon him by the duties and stresses of his
particular brand of leadership. That'd be "delegate" for them that's
uninitiated, or a masterful way to shift the blame for miscues, misstatements,
malapropisms, minor alterations of truth, and outright lies. What with
the press and all, you might think this behavior is a little risky. Let
me tell you a little story. Our hero, who was born with a silver spoon
up his arse, has recently acquired a minor problem in this area. The
three bowls of five star Texas chili combined with the highly alcoholic
toxins which usually result in a thorough cleansing of the abdominal
tubing, all the way from the sweet-smellin' end to another end, that is
often a name used in jest to refer to our hero, is creating problems with '
international communications. A gas pocket, which was trappped close to
tubing containing the five star chili contaminated with residues not
thoroughly dissolved by the alcohol has quietly escaped from the area
of silver spoon contamination. Our hero is so drunk he can't get his
tongue to work, but so far this had been a boon to communication. The
ambassadors from Nepal, Peru, Ecuador, and Kenya, more used to high
altitude and rarefied air, are temporarily incapacitated by the Texas
gas pocket that has reached inside their nostrils and caused a sizzlin'
sensation inside their skulls, just before they all blacked out. Pity
with the rush for the tent opening that there was noone to catch them
as they fell.
Our hero follows the crowd out of the tent, wondering something,
but he can't exactly remember what. Signals from the silver spoon have
informed him that he better start looking for a shithouse, right now.
Meandering, or more specifically, staggering accross the chair and table
strewn White House lawn is increasing in difficulty and finally a lawn
chair with absolutely no respect for the silver spoon trips him up. Yea
bubba, it don't require a genius to know that the strain on the abdominal
area in attempting to absorb the impact has given trapped texas chili an
escape aperture and motivational force. Enough said, the man shit
himself. Landed in the flower bed and what came out the pantlegs was
well placed for future use. Headlines in the press stated that our hero
saved the day by personally removing a toxic substance from a tented area
and his action might have saved the lives of a number of ambassadors who
were overcome by said toxins. The report continued to say that hero is
being nominated for an award from the Horticulturalists Society for his
personal efforts in his flower gardens.
On the down side, the employees at Mabel's whore house, have hired
counsel to initiate suit against said press. Mabel's fame is national
after moving her two for one price special from Sunday morning to Sunday
evening at the request of the church groups who claimed it was cutting
into the attendance figures. Mabel and the girls feel that the actions
of the press represent a wholesale attempt to monopolize the trade, and
that the overall class represented by the press has cast a tawdry pall
upon their persons. This may create a problem for our hero because Mabel's
girls work like politicians. They get their hands and lips moving at the
same time. This is the really big problem because sometimes when our
hero's lips move the words he meant to say are not even published until
the next day. Well, like Dad always said, "don't stay on too long."

Dave Fagan
< http://read.at/daves >