Dan The God
By Stroker Al (with apologies to Robert Graves)(and to MMSA Stories Readers for the following hack job Im pounding out to beat the Jan 1 deadline)
Dan has a big head.
So what ELSE is new, youre probably asking, if youve read my election season report about Dans punitive and penetrating conquest of my liberal friends and me. Yeah, we know, you might be saying, its huge and spongy and strawberry-shaped for prying apart the tight ass puckers of guys who get in his way so he can work them over with his republikan ramrod . So what about it?
I dont mean THAT head, guys. NOT the head I gave head to so many times this fall when he was teaching me the nasty way the world really works. Im talking about the head under that baseball cap—the head thats still grinning over his big election night victory. Sure, I tainted his celebration with a little cigar bomb insurgency, but after a week of painful, humiliating retaliation upon me, his demoralized neighbor, hes still enjoying the momentum from his big win.
Dan thinks that HE won the election for his hero, Giorge Busch. Dan believes that by turning me traitor and by arranging for the entire male portion of our countys progressive liberal coalition to miss the election (while being sodomized over the entertainment center couches of Republikan politicos as the returns came in on television).
Well, the fact is there are bigger liars and hypocrites than my studly neighbor, Dan, and THEY are the ones who REALLY won the election for Giorge. And Im going to tell you the story of how he and I had a big run in with the the most creepy and disgusting of them all.
Youve heard of them: Carl Rogue and Richerd Pearl-Necklace. In addition to being the most sickening, piously self righteous unelected runners of the country, these two also happen to be two of the biggest queens that ever went to Washington. They are the Cruella Deville and Divine of the current administration. And one afternoon these two were lounging around the whitehouse eating bon bons and they happened to be looking at one of those red and blue state maps, and Richerd, the queenier of the two said to Carl, the more obese of the two, "Say look at that midwestern state, "------". Wasnt that a BLUE state last time? How did we manage THAT?"
Carl tried to finish chewing most of the forty bon bons that he had stuffed into his bloated face before replying, but finally couldnt resist the excitement of revealing what he knew, so lots of half chewed chocolated poured out of his livery lips along with his words.
"Why , dont you KNOW, Richie?" spluttered Carl. We carried the state of "--------" because of the GOOD NEIGHBOR INITIATIVE."
"Oh YESSSSSSSSSS!" lisped Richerd. "That town where all the Demokrats were too busy getting _f_u_c_k_ed up the ass to vote! Who was responsible for that?"
"Dan somebody," replied Carl, shuffling through some papers to try to find the name. "A very hot little number in army fatigues and tight white T-shirts."
"You know, Carla," winked Richard, "Giorge oughta invite this guy to the inaugural ball as a token of thanks for his good work."
"Or we could just throw our OWN ball for him," Carl belched. "Or BALLS!"
Richerd gave his fat friend a warning look. "Now dont get greedy, Mama Cass. Hes bound to have two, and from what I understand, two pretty big ones, so we can each grab one. Now lets find his telephone number and invite him."
One week later, Dan and I were heading into DC in his car. Dan had insisted I come along because he wanted me to suffer the humiliationg of having to endure the entire Busch administration to have THANKING me at the Busch supporters victory dinner for all the horrible things I did to help Dan get Giorge elected.
"Look, Stroker," Dan laughed. "Its the Washington Monument! Who does that remind you of"
I gulped as I beheld the erect, manly stone symbolic phallus of presidential power ahead of us on the center of the mall. Dan continued to laugh as the front of my jeans bulged with the predictable erection I got every time I thought , even abstractly, of our wonderful, wonderful president and his virile, now almost constant penetration of my psyche, ever since I saw him on video tape nailing the ass of Odadi Been Wantin.
Oh god! I thought to myself. What will happen if we end up actually meeting Giorge? Will I ejaculate spontaneously and cream right through my jeans?
End Part One