"I Think, Therefore I Ant."
June 17
A NOTE ON THE TYPE:
This story was written with a No. 3 Orange Peacock Feathered Quill.
The Deflowering Of The Bush
(A Harlequin Political
Romance)
By Big Dick Cheney
Chapter I:
George’s Heaving Male Bosom and
Pale Jutting Buttocks
The
hot, arid summer night breeze blew its steamy, torrid and incandescently windy
breath upon the cheap and out of-the-way hotel room that George and I had
booked for our night of passion and bliss.
George
licked his thin, chapped, heat-scorched lips as his sexy, beady little eyes
darted about like a pair of love slaves in search of Spanish fly and rhino
horns. His come-hither and sensuous face twitching in heavenly delight, agog
and aware of the carnal and libidinous pleasures that awaited us... He chewed
slowly and provocatively on a pretzel.
“I’m
ever so madly in love with you, Dicky,” he confessed while nervously and
tentatively unbuttoning his shirt, his white delicate fingers darting
nervously with each button, the red nail polish on each of them reminding me
of ten little Popsicles. “But I’m also afraid and nervous. I’ve never
done this before... while I was sober. I gotta say, my soft and wrinkly
buttocks are all a quiver.”
“That’s
the vibrating bed,” I informed him as I tore off my shirt, allowing my manly
and flabby chest to pour out.
His
pasty visage beamed with excitement. He looked tantalized, hungry, very
aroused and as always – sort of confused.
Smiling
vacantly, he absentmindedly stroked his white-hot staff of desire.
Ripping
off my trousers to expose my engorged pork sword and smart bomb warrior (aka:
Big Dick), I smiled with unadulterated glee. “Get ready to submit, you
little turnip,” I roared.
“Don’t
forget the pitching wedge, bible belt, and whipped cream,” Georgie barely
managed to utter...
His
presidential breath was coming in gulps. George moaned, groaned and intoned,
his body wild and ignited, twisting and arching in presidential ecstasy as our
extramarital Greko-Roman wrestling reached dizzying heights of ecstasy.
"Oh,
goody gumdrops,” he gasped, “that’s the spot, Dick... My own little axis
of evil... Yes, right in my Oval Office!
Now we’re digging for oil! Damn, but you put the “vice” in
president. Oh, my, indeed, oh Dicky... Oh... Golly!"
The rapturous lovemaking
flowed and progressed much like, um... a salmon swimming upstream! Our tender
and idyllic grunting was beautiful in its primitive rutting form. (I think...
The lights were dimmed, so I couldn’t see everything!)
George opened up like the
pedals of a delicate flower unfolding itself to the life-bringing sun that
drenches its soft, hungry, blossom... Of course, the KY Jelly also helped a
fair amount.
Suddenly, there was a loud
banging at the door. The pounding building like the furious rhythm of coupling
lovers locked in feverish passion.
“George!” A haunting,
familiar, and angst-ridden voice cried from outside, “It’s me, Rummy! I
don’t know what you’re doing in there, but it better be something from the
bible. Now let me in!”
George looked over his
shoulder and up to me. He was ashen faced and stunned, “Oh sweet Jesus,”
he whispered.
Turning away, his warm breath
once again on my feet, he continued his lament, “if Donald finds me here,
he’ll kill us both. He’s oh so very incredibly excitable, sweaty, hot and
jealous. Please, Dicky bear, you’ve got to hide me.”
George
and Rummy? This piece of information was like a cold, harsh, slap on my face.
It was so typical of the erotic, duplicitous weasel and his voluptuous
mouthful of lies... But I just couldn’t stay mad at the little felcher.
Truth
be told, I didn’t mind helping him out. I do have some experience with the
whole homosexual sound bite. My porn scribbler of a wife Lynne loves to write
about lesbians. And together she and I spawned a gay daughter... Either that
or a heterosexual son with a vagina... Although I'm pretty sure it's a gay
daughter. Anyway, my point it’s an issue our kinky family is very familiar
with.
“Okay,
I’ll see what I can do,” I told him, “but you have to get my name
tattooed on your ass.”
“I’ll
do it, Dickster,” George whispered as he hid in the closet, “now please,
do something to make this right.”
My glistening chest heaving,
I decided to invite Rumsfeld in and see where it took us. My mind was chugging
like a train about to enter a dark, yet moist and inviting tunnel.
Reaching for the knob, I
tried to remember just where I had put the extra condoms...
NEXT
WEEK – CHAPTER II: WHY THEY CALL ME “DICK” CHENEY
Makeover For
The Mouse
The sun continues to shine out
of the asses of the evil overlords at the Disney Gulag. Investors may
not have noticed, but the House of Mouse has reinvented itself. And it’s all
thanks to me – Avery Ant.
While the suits at Walt Disney spent the last year
royally screwing each other over to see who will succeed their emotionally
unbalanced chief Michael Eisner, I was hired as the new mascot. Abusing this
position to the max, I then fired the deadwood, hired the cartoon characters
to take their jobs and told those animated freaks to focus on the company's
theme parks, Disney DVDs and popular ABC hit shows.
The
net result: Earnings were up 23% and Dumbo is finally working again.
“H’yuck, all the cylinders are starting to
fire,” says Goofy, now the chief investment officer at Disney, “and once
Avery had Mickey executed gangland style, well, gosh, the working atmosphere
around here really improved, h’yuck, yuck.”
Yes, the outlook at Disney is rosy and Daisy Duck is
finally putting out for Daffy.
“Everything
is great. I don’t think we’ll have any problems exceeding guidance put out
to Wall Street,” says CFO Pluto while licking his testicles.
Your
Horoscope:
Aries:
This moon’s eclipse of Jupiter will make it easy for you to sit down with a
partner or loved one and confess that you’ve been having a romantic affair
with the gerbil.
Taurus: Your grasp of important subjects is tenuous at best.
Gemini:
Do something for yourself and yourself alone: Why should today be any
different?
Cancer: You may have to
be brutal with someone who refuses to see sense. Blinding them is the most
effective method.
Leo: Sometimes you tend to
assume others care for you, thus proving that when it comes to matters of the
heart, you’re a complete idiot.
Virgo: According to the planets, the clothes you’re wearing make you
look fat.
Libra: You will get more insight from a fortune cookie than you will from
your this horoscope.
Scorpio: You have a reputation for being something of a monster but deep
down you’re really more of a bastard.
Sagittarius: You have a great deal of emotional energy and will spend it
playing head games with those unfortunate enough to know you.
Capricorn: You will not fall into a tank full of sharks.
Aquarius: See above.
Pisces: Why are you so negative? Why are you not proud of your
achievements? ...Oh, right. Good point. Carry on.
Link
Of The Week: Blogywood
Looking for a fun site with lots of superb
links? Then say hello and thank-you to Steven at Blogywood because he’s got
tons of great stuff for your Internet edification. Blogywood is chock-full of
wild and weird news stories, funny flash, amazing animation, general hilarity,
and, yes, babes. Plus, as a special bonus: It’s all for free! Why does he do
it? I can only guess it’s because he just cares too damn much. Take a peek.
You’ll be glad you did.
This Week’s 10
Words-Or-Less Celebrity Summations:
Michael
Jackson: Innocent Pedophile
Tom
Cruise: 61% More Loathsome Than Before
 Sigmund Freud: Still Dead
(to the top)
To read all the other mildly
exciting editions of "Avery's Daily Journal" visit
"Avery's Journal Archives"
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