Monday, January 26, 2015
Battlefield, and Refuge
The Campaign Manager
-Well, I've entered Politics! You'll laugh, but I feel
almost as if I entered a monastery!
-Scale that back a bit. Uh, a big picnic at Harsee Falls? Teens? Ring a bell?
-I was there.
-Lots of sex?
-Maybe some handsome guys hooked up. But I recall sitting with a guy name Ferdie. Sipping homemade wine. Both of us mud turtles in attractiveness.
-Ghinny Red! you drank. But don't ever call it that!
-Of course not!
-And at no time did you rip off the panties of one,
Dierdre?
-Is this a filthy joke? I've never know any Dierdres.
How hurtful!
-Ferdie says the opposite, and he'll be your opponent. A real Ghinny Champion!
-Well, hit them with both barrels! Liars!
-It's not a film with Jimmy Stewart. Relax!
-I never in my life...!
-Welcome to OUR monastery!
-What'll we do, then?
-I'll chat with Ferdie. We got more on him
than they had on Dillinger. I wouldn't be
surprised if the campaign hinged on issues,
would you believe? With you a real boyscout,
and him pretending.
-Wow! When it's over I'll want to dive into
a monastery all right!
-Is it Trappists don't talk?
-My choice!
Labels: boyscout, dirty politics, monastery, newbie, sex, Trappist
