Dan Rather Epic


Posted by Uncle Spam on September 23, 2004 at 21:40:56:

Dan Rather dragged the dead body of the blonde receptionist, Barbanne, into the walk-in closet of his office at CBS. She made a sexy baggage, eyes closed and mouth open, a CBS eyeball necktie around her neck, dressed seductively in short black skirt and white man-tailored shirt that did nothing to conceal her big Australian breasts. She was barefoot, her high heels having come off as Dan dragged her, and he tossed her shoes in after her before slamming the door with a final glance at her white panties, exposed by her skirt riding up. She had made the mistake of giggling after the thought of Dan's recent on-screen ramblings aimed at covering up his pathetic use of forged documents.

"Nice dead tits," said a Canadian voice behind him. Dan spun around. Two men stood there -- Peter Jennings and Tom Brokaw!

Both were armed with Thompson submachine guns, bought by their respective networks in the radio days to keep the workers in line. Dan's crazed eyes bulged.

"All hat and no cattle," he said dementedly.

"You've made us all look bad, Dan Lather," burped Tom Brokaw.

"You have to die, you see," explained Peter Jennings.

"Slicker than goose poop on a lineoleum floor," gritted the crazed ex-Texan.

"For the good of the networks!" yelled Tom.

"More nervous than a long-tailed cat in a room fulla rockin' chairs," muttered the lunatic "reporter."

"NOW!!!!" screamed Jennings. Both anchormen fired.

BUDDA BUDDA BUDDA BUDDA BUDDA BUDDA BUDDA BUDDA

"AIIEEEEIEIEEEEEEEEEEEIIEE!!!!!!' Rather screamed as a volley of .45 slugs caught him in the chest, dancing like a less intellectual Howdy Doody on invisible strings as the bullets tore thruogh him. But by then the hypocritical gun control advocate already had the twin Colt Peacemakers drawn from his suit pockets.

BLAM ! BLAM!

Still smiling, Peter Jennings toppled back after Rather's bullet entered his face and blew one eye across the room. Tom Brokaw said "Red Leather, Yellow Leather," and clutched at his stomach with one hand as his tommy gun sent out another wild burst into Rather's face, splattering the CBS fraud's criminal brain across a framed picture of Walter Cronkite. Brokaw fell across his smoking submachine gun, onto a floor awash in network blood, to join the other two has-been corpses...

...And the sun rose upon a brighter, cleaner world....

(Too bad about poor Barbanne tho'...)