Wednesday, March 9, 2016

last apocalypse on the left: the mCsituation 1.02

the mCsituation 1.02

"Whatever has a way in, will have a way out, Mr. president," had said the impressively-resonant from the shadows in a strange, foreign accent which reeked of secrets and mystery (Australian or New Zealand maybe). The president could see only the dim outllines of a figure in the dark corner, the reddish glow of a lit cigarette moving upwards, a pause, and then a cloud of smoke rising upwards, illuminated by a beam of light form a high window, as if to say that the world itself were on fire

"What is this mysterious voice emanating from the shadows and blowing a cloud of symbolic smoke into the air?" asked President Obtuso.

"Mr. President, this is the liason from ISS," said the president's lackey.

"ISS?"

The figured stepped out of the shadow. "Call me Adam--not my real name--of the Incredibly Secret Service Service," he said.

"Never heard of you. Or the--um--"

"ISS, Mr. president. We used to call it 'IS' but it caused a hell of lot of confusion so we changed the it to ISIS. Even ordered a statue of a naked goddess that was really, well," he said with a chuckle, "you could look at her for hours."

"I see."

"But then that terrorist group came along so we just put the statue in the men's room to get some use out of it."

"What department are you under?" "We are not under any department: We report directly to the president. But only when circumstances require that we do. We do the tasks that are too...shall we say unpleasant? For the rest of the secret security apparatus."

"I hope you understand that this is very serious. You're not allowed to smoke in this building. Not even I am allowed to smoke in this building."

"Ah, but the symbolism..." The president shook his head. Adam of the ISS put out his cancer stick by completely ramming it up his left nostril.

"Whoa," said the president.
"Our training inures us to pain in all its forms," Adam stated. You have no idea how many have succumbed to nostril torture." 

"Can you do that again?"

"No, once per day per nostril is my limit. Also I left my cigarettes in my desk."

"Well I would love to see that again some time." 

"Of course, Mister President, sir. And can I just say what an honor it is to--"

The aide interrupted. "Sir, shouldn't we get back to the immediate crisis." 

The president and the mysterious man looked at each other. "Raincheck," said Adam.

The president pointed one of his terrifyingly large index fingers at the man who called himself 'Adam'. "I'm gonna' hold you to that." Obtuso straightened his coat and tie. "Okay, time for one of my inspirational speeches about hope and healing," said the president. 

Groaning in despair, the aide slapped his forehead. It was only later that he regretted not having knocked himself unconscious.


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