Posted by Fat Ass on November 07, 2004 at 12:46:32:
Thank God the electon is over and I can finally talk. I've been sitting on this story for two years so here it is
******
Fat Ass verse the Butcher of Baghdad
A military helicopter flew threw the winter Texas sky. Selecting a spot in came down outside the Bush Ranch watched by numerous gun positions. Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfelt and the Chairman of the Joints Chiefs of Staff got off the idling copter and headed to the Ranch's fortified gate.
“Password!” The guard demanded.
“God Bless.” Cheney replied.
“America.” the guard replied with the counter sign, “You and your party may pass Mr. Vice-president.”
The three men stride purposely down the path. Cheney paused and pointed at some birds circling overhead.
“See those birds gentlemen. They are specially trained bald eagles. The can detected one of Ben Laden’s terrorist up to a mile away and will swoop in to tear a terrorist heads off without hesitation.” Cheney explained.
The other two men nodded approvingly and resumed their walk.
Reaching the ranch complex the three men were led into the basement rumpus room were President Bush was talking his afternoon break. The found Bush seated in an easy chair with one of his Mexican maids kneeling in between his legs giving Bush a blow job. On the other side of the basement room was a glass wall behind which were a row of naked women bound to chairs. Two more of Bush’s Mexican maids went from bound naked girl to bound naked girl slowly strangling them to death as Bush watched.
“Dick, Donald and General Myers!” Bush greeted, “The girls have just started so pull up a chair and get comfortable. The FBI bagged a couple of peace protesters from last weekend‘s rally and ,well, there they are. Call me a blood thirsty monster will they? This will teach them. ”
“Thanks George but General Myers has urgent information.” Cheney replied.
“Mary’s lips on Jesus’ penises guys, why does it always have to be on my afternoon break? Hell, this is like that September crap in New York. Why can’t it wait another hour? Oh I know ‘Mr. President, three thousand Americans just died, Mr. President the Space Shuttle just exploded, Mr. President North Korea just threatened to start a nuclear war’ crap I think you guys need to take a valium every now and then. Aw hell what is it this time.” Bush demanded.
“Mr. President, a Global Hawk UAV just took these pictures of Baghdad, it is as we feared.” Rumsfelt announced giving Bush some photos, “He has placed his headquarters along with his weapons of mass destruction in this bunker.”
“Son of God butt slamming his twelve apostles that fucker is big. Screw it, can’t the air force drop some of those bombs of theirs on it.” Bush asked looking at the photos.
“Mr. President, we suspect this bunker can take a direct hit from a nuclear weapon and still survive. “ General Myers explained, “ This thing is so big it has its own monster truck rally arena into it. Not only that they have cable, satellite and DSL so starving him out is out of the question. The only thing we can do is fight our way in.” General Myers explained.
“Monster truck arena? You’re not shitting me are you?” Bush asked impressed.
“It gets worse than that Mr. President, we figure storming this bunker may cost the army a thousand men.” Rumsfelt explained.
Bush gave a Rumsfelt a blank stare.
“That would mean at lest two thousand upset voter parents George.” Cheney reminded.
“Oh, terrible, unacceptable then.” Bush decried.
“We there is the option we discussed before George.” Rumfelt reminded.
“Ya’ but that guy, he’s such a sicko.” Bush
“He’s our only option Mr. President.” General Myers grimly added.
“Do it.” Bush decided.
“Very well George, “ Cheney, and the three men turned and left the room.
General Myers got on his cell phone and pushed the speed dial.
“Hello, Jackson? Yes, operation ‘Thunder Butt’ is on.” General Myers said into the phone.
Back in the basement Bush sat back and sighed as the maid patiently sucked away at his dick.
“Okay girls, let’s make this special. I have some extra tension to work off.” Bush announced.
It was typical night at the bar at Sam’s Place. The patrons sat at their stools and conversed over their drinks, watching Sam’s places ’special’ floor shows, all in black in white. Sam (of Sam’s Place) liked it that way and he was the devil. Why the devil chose to serve drinks in a seedy bar to perverts was beyond anyone guess but you didn’t argue with a guy who could induce spontaneous combustion with a thought. Besides the liquor was cheep and the girls good looking as they were strangled or mutilated. Yes Sam’s Place was unique that way that he had live snuff shows, he is the devil after all.
Outside their was the distinctive roar of Harley engine. The motor stopped and their and the door swung open to the distinctive, oval, silhouette of Fat Ass at the bar’s door.
“Great, it’s that fat fuck.” one patron muttered.
Fat Ass waddled up the to Bar and to Sam (of Sam’s Place)
“The usual Fat Ass?” Sam (of Sam’s Place) asked.
“Ya’ sure Sam, how did you know?” Fat Ass replied as Sam (of Sam’s Place) set down a picture of beer and a large pizza.
“I am the devil after all.” Sam (of Sam’s Place) explained.
Fat Ass lumbered his bulk up to a table and sat down into a creaking chair. On stage a pretty Asian girl was being methodically disemboweled by a machine. It was Dolcette night.
“Mr. Ass, Mr. Fat Ass?” An exotic brunette in a trench coat and brimmed hat carrying an envelop said .
“That’s me honey butt. What can I do for you?” Fat Ass asked between pizza bites.
“Fat Ass, or as the French say le Blubber Toosh, the world’s heaviest assassin for higher?” the mysterious brunette continued.
“Don’t know what mean by that sweet cheeks, I just flip buggers for a living.” Fat Ass dismissed.
“Really, and how does a five dollar an hour job mean you can afford a Harley with a custom heavy duty suspension? Or that trip to Paris were a certain Mr Fujoto, noted stock swindler, was found and along with his two body guards crushed to death by a ‘large soft mass’, a method employed by masters of the martial art of Fatjusto, which incidentally you are Mr. Ass. Shall I go on Mr. Ass? The mysterious Brunette asked.
“Okay, okay lady, Jesus Christ what do want?” Fat Ass begged, “Here, have a seat.”
“No thank you, with the amount of beer you have spilt I would stick to the chair.” the mysterious Brunette shrugged off.
“Suite yourself toots, so who sent you?” Fat Ass asked.
“Let’s just say your’ uncle Sam.” the mysterious brunette explained.
Fat Ass looked at Sam (of Sam’s Place). Sam (of Sam’s place) frowned and shook his head.
“Not the devil at the bar stupid, the U.S. government.” the mysterious brunette prodded.
“Oh? What the heck to they want with me?” Fat Ass “er,.. Look
“They want to hire you to kill this man.” the mysterious brunette said as she dropped the envelope on the beer splattered tabled.
Fat Ass looked threw the envelope.
“Saddam Hussien? I though we were going to war with him?” Fat Ass asked
“Well, let’s just say there are complications and we realized we need and expendable piece of sh,…er a skilled specialist like you Mr. Ass.” the mysterious brunette explained.
“Me really? Wow.” Fat Ass chirped.
“We assume it will be the standard fee Mr. Ass” the mysterious brunette asked.
“Oh, for my Uncle Sam I’ll do it at expense.” Fat Ass demured.
“Get real, we learned about that scam with George Washington. The standard fee it is?” the mysterious brunette insisted.
“Okay then.” Fat Ass excepted, with visions of non-stop call girls and pizza deliveries fading from his mind.
“Very well Mr. Ass, there will be a C5 star lifter at airport leaving for the Middle East at 10:00am tomorrow. It should have the lifting capability to transport you so be on it.” the mysterious brunette urged and then turned and walked out of the bar.
Fat Ass sat their examining the papers when a woman bounced up to him and giggled.
“Fat Ass? My name is Candy.” the giggling woman said.
“Sure, what is it Candy?” Fat Ass asked spuriously, there were some real sickos here in Sam’s Place.
“Is it true what they say?” Candy asked.
“What’s that?” Fat Ass countered.
“The bigger the butt, the bigger the bang.” Candy stated.
Fat Ass smiled.
“We there is only one way to find out.” Fat Ass explained
The next day the phone rang in Fat Ass’ apartment. Fat Ass groaned, rolled over and pushed a pair of old underpants off the phone.
“Ya what?” Fat Ass croaked into the phone.
“Were in the hell are you? It’s 10:30?” the mysterious brunette demanded from the other end.
“Oh shit, there, er was a power outage here.” Fat Ass pathetically lied.
“We get it in gear Mr. Ass; FOX news isn’t going to wait forever for the invasion to start.” the mysterious brunette snarled and hung up.
Fat Ass sat up and looked over at Candy. She was dead, crushed to death when Fat Ass rolled over on top of her when they were having sex. Realizing there was no time to hide the body Fat Ass rolled her off the bed and tossed some pizza boxes on her.