So now, we have a new War Czar. How comforting it is to have someone who will now take command of our legendary war machine. But hold on there Joe boy, what’s this? The job came up, from somewhere, and not a single General wanted the job? Oh shit, the captains of mayhem don’t even wanted this job? I always heard you didn’t refuse the president, anything! I thought he was like the Godfather...

“General Shitwax, I have a favor for you.” the president said.
“Yes, Godf...er, Mr President, anything you need, sir!” General Shitwax snapped, sharply.
“There is a duty I need you to perform.”
“Yes, Godf...er, Mr President, what can I do?”
“I need someone to become our new War Czar.”
“Oh no you don’t motherfucker, you ain’t hangin’ the shit on me, brother! I ain’t no mothafuckin’ war, ass czar! Get yer fuckin’ ass someone else!” General Shitwax stomps, in cadence, out of the oval office.

“Well, get me General Buttthong!” the president demanded. He decides to be casual.
“Yes sir, what may I do for you?”
“Yes, Ihava,” the president thinks first name basis should work. “I have an important mission for you.” the word mission always works on these imbeciles!
“I’m always prepared for the duty of a new mission sir!” the general’s words are crisp, concise, and clear! The president curled his lip, in apprehension, corner-eyeing his defense secretary!
“We need someone special. Your name came up first for this.” Even though Buttthong had just seen another General come from the Oval Office, he was too stupid to know what was coming. His chest swelled with military bull shit. The president relaxed. “We need someone with a powerful presence such as yours, to become our new United States War Czar!” the president smiled, weakly. General Buttthong’s face waxed pasty. Crowds of green colored angst blew up in his eyes. Stains of piss ran down his cream colored Khakis. As he backed away he spoke, with terror.
“Oh sir, no sir, I’m too fuckin’ chicken-shit for this shit! Why I have a yellow streak runnin’ right up here!” the General ripped off his shirt and, sure enough, he did have a yellow streak running right up his back. The president looked at his secretary, in disbelief.
“Hey Ihave, take it easy,” the secretary said, “it’s okay; we’ll give another star, man! You be ahead of that ass hole, Shitwax!”
“Oh no you don’t. I don’t care if you give me nine stars, I ain’t takin’ the hit for this motherfuckin’ shit, man!” Buttthong’s butt hit the door as he backed off. He ran out screaming.

“Well, who do have left,” the president was exasperated.
“Just one, it’s General Snotrocket! I really didn’t want to get to him. You know, he’s almost too ready.”
“Well, get him. We need someone to do this.” the secretary showed him into the Oval Office!
“Yes, Mr President, what can I help you with today, sir.” Snotrocket had stars in his eyes. Someone saw pink underwear hanging from his shower stall once, and many thought he might have an alternative lifestyle going.
“I’m not going to pull any punches with you General Snotrocket. We have the most difficult job ever here, and we thought of you first for this. Snot rocket snapped to attention.
“Sir,” he shouted standing to attention, scaring the president, “my duty lies at your disposal. I am your certain ward!” the president and the secretary nearly snickered.
“Good then General Snotrocket, we need someone strong and capable to become our new War Czar.” General Snotrocket’s knees quivered, he turned pale, and gaunt.
“Pardon me, sir?” his lips turned, and his eyes were near to tears. “I, ah, I ah...” General Snotrocket’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he fell to the Oval Office floor, in a dead faint.
“Jesus, get this piece of shit outa’ here!” the president snarled. “What the hell are we going to do now?” he asked his secretary.
“I don’t know sir; there are no more Generals available.”
“Do you think Colin would take this? We fucked him over once...maybe we can...”
“Nah, not a chance sir!” the president stood and looked out the Oval Office window. He saw an officer walking across the Teramac. He threw open the window.

“Hey! Hey you, yeah you, come up here will you? I need to see you for a moment.”
“Yes sir, Mr President,” the officer shouted.
“Okay, listen!” the president sounded devious, “here’s what we’ll do. Don’t mention the word ‘Czar’! We’ll call him a... let’s see; okay I got it! We’ll call him a military advisor to the president. Yeah that’s it. That’s the ticket!”
“But sir, he’s not a General!” the secretary didn’t like a Lieutenant General being nominated for anything! Let alone, War Czar. It just didn’t fit!
“I don’t give a fuck if he’s a Private! Get him in here, damn it! We need a goddamn War Czar!”

That’s how Lieutenant General Douglas Lute became the first United States War Czar. When the morning papers came out calling him the “War Czar”, he fainted and puked. To bad Doug, this shit is all on you now, baby!

How about that happy meal some kid got,
with marijuana and a pipe in it? A
worker used it for his stash.
Gee, it makes me yearn for some McDonals!
DO I QUALIFY TO GET A HAPPY MEAL? I'm
only 64!
Joe

I wasn't even drunk. I was quite sober, and I went to get a pack of cigarettes from the store. It was 11:30 pm. I had them, securely in my possession, when a rounded the corner of the house and tripped over one of the many barrel-type flower pots that adorn our yard. Flip, flap, boom! I got up and walked out to the garage and watched the rest of the Cardinal game. (The boys are on the coast). On the way into the house it began to really, realyy, hurt. I hit the recliner, and slept there. The next morning, twarp! my ankle was puffed, and I couldn't put any weight on it. Diane took me to the emergency room...Broken! But at least it is broken vertically, and so I am wearing a "boot", with crutches, and cane. I've broken a finger, and a toe, and had an ankle sprain. This and the sprain were by far, the worst pain.
So, I'm a little cranky, but the Vicodin is good shit, man! Bones are a bitch when you break 'em, ya' know!
Joe

April, 1961, Bay of Pigs Cuba: CIA/America, along with Cuban refuge army, invades Cuba, in a plan proposed by Richard M Nixon, planned by Dwight D Eisenhower, and later, approved by John F Kennedy. Two months after he took office, Kennedy has the Bay of Pigs invasion dropped in his lap. He insisted that no Americans be involved. He was betrayed by the planners, who involved Americans. When American air support became necessary, Kennedy refused, and the invasion failed. Four American pilots, and 100 invaders were killed. The first shot was fired by an American CIA soldier. According to many books written about the invasion, if Kennedy refused air support, the invaders were told to go ahead and use air attacks.

Yeah but what? Many of the invasion force were old Batista soldiers. We wanted the old Cuba back for the Mob, gamblers, prostitutes, and Hollywood players. We didn’t care about the constant poverty of the people! We wanted ‘our’ Cuba back! Soon, after Castro croaks, we’ll get our Cuba back!

1961 Dominican Republic: US/CIA assassinates Raphael Trujillo, a murderous dictator the US had supported since 1930.

Yeah but, I had cocktails with “Raph” many times. Hell, we shared a prostitute together one night. He got me the best hookers I ever had! Do we really have to get rid of him? Hell, we always liked his style. He was our kinda’ guy! He killed everybody!

1961: US/CIA military forces dispose of democratically elected, Equador president, Jose Velasco because he was “too friendly with Cuba”.

Yeah but Castro, he likes Castro? Let’s get the bastard! He’s got the wrong friends and we can’t allow that! We’ll decide who these people’s friends can be. We could have used this place for training the Bay of Pigs bunch. Weapons, whores, money, and all the Bananas we can eat! You can’t get any better than that!

1961 Congo: US/CIA assassinates democratically elected president Patrice Lamumba.

Yeah but Africa? What the hell is there accept natives and Lions? Oh, Gold, Aluminum, well, let’s go to another hot one! Why is it that these damn places are always hotter than hell, and full of damn jungles! Shit, the next thing you know, we’ll be going to Viet Nam! Oh no!

1963: US/CIA overthrows Dominican democratically elected president Juna Bosch in military coup, and Installs repressive military Junta.

1963: Iraqi leader Abdul Karem is murdered in a coup organized by the US/CIA, British forces, Ardel-Salim Arefand, and Saddam Hussein. Hussein’s Baathe Party is installed to power. George H.W. Bush is secretly working for Zapata Oil “Bay of Pigs False Flag Operation”. Later that year, JFK is murdered in Dallas.

Yeah but, what a crappy year that was!

1964: US/CIA lead coup in Brazil that overthrows government of president Joao Goulart, in a murderous Junta.

1965: US/CIA backed coup puts Marcos in power in the Philippines as defacto dictator.

Yeah but, now this guy should work out good. He has the right idea; kill the opponents, and rake in the cash. He oughta’ become an American business man. He’d fit right in, at home. And the chicks, whoa daddy, the chicks!

1965: US/CIA, in Indonesia, helps overthrow democratically elected president Sukarno.
Yeah but, later in 1976, President Ford, Kissinger, and others go to Indonesia. They have to cut their meeting short and leave, so Suharto’s Indonesia could invade East Timor, armed 90% with US weapons. It ended up a massacre of the East Timor people.

Yeah but, aren’t you just so proud of our involvement in the affairs of the world? We have a very busy CIA. They will do anything, anywhere, to any people, in the world. Give us a call; we’ll be only too glad to help. Remember, we love you.

1970 Cambodia: US/CIA leads overthrow of popular president Prince Sahounek, installing the infamous killer Lon Nol. Then, supported Pol Pot, and the Kahmeer Rouge, whose death squads killed millions, in the infamous “killing fields”. .

1971 Bolivia: US/CIA backed coup overthrows president Juan Torres and Hugo Banzar who tortures, rapes and kills opponents.

Yeah but, the drugs were superior, and we (the CIA) could easily, ship them to California, then on to other places in the US. Hey, that paid for the overthrow!

1973 Chile: US/CIA military coup overthrows and assassinates democratically elected president Salvador Allende, and installs General Augusto Pinochet to power. During his 17-year reign, Pinochet tortures and murders thousands of opponents to his regime, and was tried for ‘crimes against humanity’ in 1998. He dies shortly after conviction.


And now, we have “The project for a new American century”, or PNAC. They prey on the treaties of past benevolence. Get rid of the treaties, especially the ABM treaty; you see, we don’t want to have to comply with humanitarian goals. We want to implement preemptive strike against anyone who we think may present a problem to us. We have a greedy agenda. There is ALWAYS an agenda!
In this document (PNAC), one defining goal is the elimination of Iraq and its government. Saddam, who also received a Lion’s share of WMD from us, was now our enemy. Once again, weapons used on us, were ours!
So now people ask: “Why can’t we catch bin Laden?”. The reason may be because we don’t WANT to catch him. We allowed the Taliban to escape Afghanistan, and into Pakistan, another one of our loyal allies? Bin Laden used to work for us! We used to support him, in the nineties, while he fought the Russians! The “Northern Alliance” was the big enemy to us then, because they fought against bin Laden. So in 2001, when we invaded Afghanistan, we allied with the Northern Alliance, to fight the Taliban, and Al Qaeda. We were shooting Russian ammo and guns, and we were being shot at by American weapons, and ammo?
Yeah but, aren’t we so very, very, weird?

This is a little long, but I said to someone (I can't remember who! I'm old!) that I would put up an excerpt from my book "Ogallala: The rise of Morning Sun". This is when Everett Adams, the President's assisiant goes to tell the President that he is leaving, and going back to Iowa. Here it is:

Piece 2: President “woody!”
President of the United States, Joshua Reston, stood stark naked, looking out his opened, bay, window. His eyes glazed closed in a euphoric lust as a breeze wafted the frail curtains, tickling his bare skin, and cleansing him with a soft, minting, cool. The techno-chemicals were looping and snaking about in the Presidential brain, as he brought the evening air into his lungs. Those chemicals had changed the President’s soul and, were working wonders, mostly, making him as horny as a herd of Texas Longhorns at mounting time. Reston was having a ball screwing everything that moved. Through the direction of some pretty damn good drugs the President, once again, had the proper ‘tooling’ to fornicate. Eddie Carter, in his newspaper column, had even started calling him “President woody!”.
It was exactly six o’clock and, Everett Adams walked up to the security station at the White House. After the eye check, he passed his card through the I.D slot and, walked towards the President’s suite.
“Just remember,” Reggie leaned, conspiring, towards Ev, “after you see him tonight, how much comedy you’re going to miss after you leave, man.” Reggie shoved Ev, laughing. He punched a hand-held.
“Ah yes, Mr President sir,” Reggie said, in his best-sounding, seriously white, voice. Reggie knew that it made the President feel more comfortable. “Everett Adams is here now, sir.” There was a listening pause. Reggie looked at the ceiling, then at Ev, pointing. He grimaced, tweaking the side of his mouth. “Okay sir,” Reggie closed his phone.
“He awaits, Mr Adams,” Reggie looked at another instrument, shaking his head. “Good Lord yes, that’s him all right, Ev. You can go in now.”
Ev went into a hallway, then knocked on the President’s door. He heard the President summon him in. He walked into the Presidential suite. There, over by the large bay window; wearing nothing but dress shoes and black socks; stood the President of the United States, the leader of the free world. Only now did Ev realize what Reggie meant by “how much comedy” he would miss! Maybe the President had the DC notion, that the shoes and socks gave him a formal presence.
“And here I thought it was these stupid ties,” Ev laughed to himself. The President had his hands hooked behind him, just above his withered ass, and was tipping back and forth on the balls of his feet, looking out at the DC Metro, as if observing a parade. Pointed nobs appeared on the end of his elbows, like the dials on an old radio. Ev was nearly sickened, as the dignity of the office suffered. Everett had never realized how skinny the President was, except for his pouched belly. His grayness, in the early evening blue; along with his spindly legs and belly, made him look very much like a, seriously faded, pale blue, Maraca! The President’s black, slicked back, hair, finely died, feigned a youth he no longer had. His sharp, corporate, nose anchored a pair of beady eyes, that no longer had the benevolence Joshua radiated before he was President. His lips had, dramatically, thinned from the exercise of his constant profanity.
Ev’s peripheral vision caught sight of a form lying in the Presidential bed. She was, beautifully familiar, extremely naked, absolutely stoned, and, not the President’s wife! Her head bobbled as she watched, intently, the President’s every humorous movement. Staying on the edge of laughter, the next word would bring her into more joyful fits. Ev moved, tentatively, as if he were interrupting an important Cabinet meeting. He knew the beautiful form in the bed. She was Electra Sinn Gaynor, wife of the President’s best friend! Everett Adams was being allowed into one of the biggest, and he thought secret, D.C. scandals. Neither even cared what Ev was seeing.
“Oh, come, come on in Adams,“ the President said cheerfully. The beautiful form in his bed broke into laughter, at the phoniness of the President’s greeting. The President made nothing of his appearance or the discomfort that this awkward moment presented. “Isn’t this beautiful,” he slightly turned as Ev, immediately, recoiled. Electra continued her laughter. The President’s half-smile indicated he was perfectly willing to provide this beautiful girl with a comic foil. Ev sensed conspiracy, at his expense.
“He means the view out the window,” Electra squealed from her perfectly blissful perspective. “Isn’t he funny,” she shrieked. “Look at his flat little ass!” her head flopped back onto the pillow. God, she was a sexual excitement. When she laughed, her beautifully rounded breasts would jiggle, in a metered cadence. Torturous valleys between her hip and navel, accentuated the curves of her extreme hourglass. She shook her head back and forth, knowing that there was no way she could look bad; she didn’t have to care about that. Electra’s legs were covered but, Ev knew plenty about them; hell, every man in D.C. knew this body. Except the Generals, of course. They had long ago, turned their soul’s inner-drive over to the military!
“Joshua honey,” the beautiful Electra said in a voice, full of soft breath, and throaty lust, “you know the Agents don’t like you standing by that open bay window. There are some very bad people out there. They might shoot that big, bad, dick of yours off! Then I won’t have any fun tonight,” she softly pouted. Her husband, Senator William Gaynor, was safely out of town, again, so she had the President’s big, bad, dick, all to herself. She loved to rock and roll with the President. Thanks to some fine American pharmaceuticals, he fired up easily and, she felt the power of the world when they made love. Electra knew the harm she could do but, couldn’t have cared less. The thrill was in the deed and, Electra was all about thrills. Besides, being a bad girl was much more opportune, and profitable, than being a good one.
“You have your shoes and socks on,” Electra peaked out over the edge of the covers. “How tacky!” she screamed, from a covered, muffling. She threw the covers back, purposefully, exposing her entire naked body. Ev skated, briefly, with the delusion of being in the President’s shoes and socks.
“Don’t mind her Adams,” the President said, with absolutely, no qualms about his appearance. “She’s really quite sweet, you know?” Electra laughed harder than ever.
“Sweet,” she mumbled, from the sheets, “isn’t that sweet?” Her head flew back, letting her wild hair fly, as she propped herself up on her elbows, with a-“wha’d’ ya’ think of this?”-look on her face. Ev thought surely the sheets would catch fire!
“When was the first day she realized that she had this power,” Ev wondered. He remembered her, once, walking into a restaurant with the Senator and, nobody cared one twit about the Senator. She had that magnetism that disrupted every pound of men’s flesh, whatever moment she walked into.
Electra, slowly, pulled her lovely self away from those lucky sheets, sat on the edge of the bed, and looked at the clock. Ev’s mouth dried up, as she rose. She seemed even taller in the flesh. Or, maybe that was Ev shrinking in her presence. Electra pulled the slinky dress up over her perfect, tanned skin, without a thought that he was watching. Such were the ways of an exotic dancer. Electra had none of those white tan lines; she loved Nature; that was good, wasn’t it? She was trying to get dressed, when she fell alongside the bed. Ev hurried over to help her up. He felt an electric shiver go up his arm, when he touched her. She radiated with sexual fun, as she smiled her approval. Her eyes sparkled with life. It was difficult to remove his from hers and, she had no intention of removing hers from his. Her bare breasts, so close to Ev’s eyes, were a feast upon his lonely Lobito. She knew she was disrupting Ev’s thought, as she wiggled that long, taught, body into her tight, short, dress.
“Oh, to be that dress” Ev thought to himself.. She caught on to Ev’s futility, looking unsuccessfully, for flaws; then she smiled.
“Like it!” her eye brow, accurately, nailed Ev’s desire. She turned her body sideways, to show Ev the rest of it. Ev was not concerned about the dress. “I bought this in New York. I know you like it. It fits my body nicely, don’t you think? I’ve seen you, somewhere. The Tigerz Cage, I think. I remember your eyes,” she talked incessantly. Then she stopped and approached Ev with the look of a predator. She came closer, as Ev recoiled in reverence to the wife he was no longer married to. Electra’s dress was just a shimmering piece of cloth that suddenly came to life with her body inside of it! The teasing, hardly dressed, breasts, purposefully, rubbed Ev’s arm as she passed. She was the Spider, to Ev’s Fly and his fly was responding!
“She’s in the middle of a giggling frenzy, Abrams,” the President said defensively, as he put on a pair of sweat pants. “What can I help you with, now, Abrams? Ev seethed at the President still not knowing his name. It fractured Ev’s middle western reasoning that a man you’d been working for the past two years, still, couldn’t remember your name! He wondered if it showed.
“Sir,” Ev cleared his throat,“my name is Adams sir,” Ev paused! “This may not be a correct time, or circumstance but...” Electra laughed again.
”It’s always time, honey!” she said, with the constant tying, of reference, to sex.
“Sir,” Ev began again, “I am submitting my resignation, affective immediately.” the President stood in stunned silence. “I will make the Nebraska trip for you, if you wish me to, but then, I will be going back home to Iowa.”
“Oh, no!” Electra said, plopping back onto the bed, “and, we were having so much fun!”.
The President had a look of genuine concern on his face.
“What’s the matter, Adams?” he said, “is it Elisabeth, and the divorce?”
Now, the President hardly ever remembered Ev’s last name. But, he pulled Ev’s wife’s name right out of the air!
“Hell, maybe he’s had her up here, too!” Ev thought.
“No sir,” Ev conceded, “it isn’t the divorce. I’m just ready to go back home. I miss the Farm, sir. I’m just not a city person. I wasn’t meant for this political life.” The President headed for the bathroom.
“Well, Adams,” the President’s hands waved as he went to the restroom, “I hope it’s nothing I’ve done that caused you to come to this. If it is, I certainly regret your decision.” Ev heard water flowing.
“Little Cows and Piggies,” Electra pinched the words, as she tip-toed towards Ev. She lost her balance again. Ev caught her before she fell. Her web was spinning tightly around Ev’s inability to resist her.
“Can you help me!” her look spelled orphan, but radiated temptress. She turned her back so Ev could fasten her dress. She leaned her willowy neck towards Ev, almost like she was praying, as Ev’s fingers were nervous Ants, trying to fasten the dress. He had seen her dancing, on the stage, at the Tigerz Cage but, never dreamt she would this close to his ‘tools’. He heard her lightly giggle, as she edged, ever so much closer, to Ev’s body. They barely touched, lightly, at first, and then closer...firmer. Finally, she was right up against Ev’s hunger. He couldn’t get away because; he didn’t want to get away! Ev knew that she wasn’t the one who needed help! Ev felt her buttock’s muscles tighten as she, purposefully, moved against him. She was so desirable, he could smell the ‘sex’ on her as it moved about inside of her dress. She, completely, understood the craving everyone had for her. Ev’s facial cheeks were hot August, burning; hers were cool September evening. Ev felt crazy love creeping up his leg and, there was nothing he could do to stop it!
“Holy shit! Is this where men went to find heaven?” he thought. “Just please,” Ev silently prayed, as he fumbled the fastener. He felt her slender fingers touch him. They ran up and down him, feeling him. Ev even closed his eyes. He had a baseball bat erection, that was harder than Algebra.
“Oooh,” she cooed, “been a while, huh?” She turned, rubbing up against him, teasing him. She met Ev’s eyes.
“Don’t forget this one.” Her innocent eyebrows, were talons, as she indicated her breast buttons needed attention. Ev must have looked like a sickened child, as Electra front-toyed with Ev’s uncontrollable toys. Ev was as scared as a kid in Speech class!
“The President wasn’t forty feet away!” his mind kept shouting.
“I could do this myself,” she seduced, “but, I’d rather have a man’s hands do it!” the way her soft lips curled around the word, “man”, made Ev fearful of a tap on the shoulder. Electra’s deft hand went about its work on Everett Adams’ excited realm; she nearly had him in ‘the blowup’; it was almost Father Kilpatric time! She scored! It was like a grand slam, in the bottom of the ninth! Ev searched her breasts for a way to begin while his mind was in shambles. He had come here to resign and ended up being seduced! The clasp in front was undone, revealing most of her perfect breasts. He squinted to see the tiny clasp.
“Maybe this is where the real government is!” Ev thought, with his newly-educated brain. “I wonder who she works for,” Ev’s mind was buzzing.
“Having a problem are we?” she teased. He nervously touched her breasts, as he dawdled for the fastener. Electra moved, slightly, making Ev’s inept efforts double. His Iowa was screaming: “Don’t go in there, ya’ snaggle-eared cow turd!”; his D.C. cheered: “This is it! You ain’t shit, if you don’t hit that clit!”
“You want me, don’t you?” she breathed a whisper. She was still in her high.
“Ma’am, I am hornier than an Iowa Boar with ten dicks!” he said, trying to gain some control. Electra laughed out loud. There was no crime to her; even her laugh was sexual.
“I like this one, Joshua,” she yelled, with a slightly turned head, towards the bathroom. “Give him a raise,” she looked at Ev’s throbbing pants. “Or, I will!”
“Jesus, Electra!” the President came back into the room, fastening cuff links, and hand-brushing his hair, “do you two need to be alone? You’re going to blow the man’s clothes off!” Ev giggled to himself. The President was oh, so, right! “Maybe I should send you on the road to get the young men’s vote for me!” They all laughed, now. Ev’s laugh was laced in fear!
“Hey yes!”Electra shrieked, “I could fuck young America for you!”
“Sir,” Ev spoke in relief, trying to bring the talk back to his resignation, “I will still do the Nebraska Governor visit for you, if you wish.”
“See!” yelled Electra, “it works! And, I haven’t even fucked him, yet!”
(“Yet?”).
Ev imagined making love to her as being a fertilizer truckload of fun.
“Thank you, Adams,” the President accepted Ev’s decision almost too easily. He walked Ev to the door, with a Fatherly hand on his shoulder. Ev felt jealousy in the President’s hand. “I’m sending you out there because, well, you know, you’re from that area. And, I really don’t want this thing to get nasty.” Ev shot a look at Electra. She was not laughing.
“I would rather avoid misunderstandings,” said the President, with a warning finger “but, I want to put Governor, John “Morning Sun” Gall, in his place. I will not have people going off and, doing what they will, against American Government policy!” Ev looked at the President and, noticed something that seemed troubling in his demeanor. He realized that the finger was spanking him, and Reston hated Ev’s youth.
“Bye hon’!” Electra said from behind. She was smiling again. She tinkled fingers at him, in mock playfulness.
“Adams,” the President said, “there will a meeting at later this evening about this trip to Nebraska. I want you to be there; at eight!”
“I wonder,” the President said to the room’s walls, after Ev left, “if he is the right one for this mission? He’s a good boy and, I...don’t want any...” The president quit thinking aloud, as Electra’s smile gave birth to a frown.
“Yes sir,” Ev answered, “I will be there.” Ev was sarcastic. Why not? He’d just witnessed a AAA-scandal. They weren’t going to shoot him for being sarcastic. Not now, anyway, after what he’d seen. Ev stopped walk and thought for a moment.
“The fuck they wouldn’t!” Ev said to himself. He gladly left the Presidential suite with his dick now down, his clothes on, pants wet from panting!.
Reggie and Ev decided to meet in Dunn Loring Park, to share a ‘good bye’ joint.
Deep inside the President’s crippled psyche, there were seeds of churning guilt growing. But for now, it was so exciting with Electra. He became like a young kid again, stealing Apples. Now, Joshua Reston was President of the United States; he didn’t have to steal Apples; there were plenty of Plums!
It was near the third decade of the 21st century; the Trans-Euro War had just concluded; it had been the deadliest War in Earth’s history.