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The Whore of Babylon Visits the Whiter House

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From flickr.com: White House {MID-280129}
White House
(Image by theglobalpanorama)
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"The silver tray sat at the bedside. The newly elected President of Foxlandia awoke, alone; his wife slept down the hall. Foxlandia had always been brilliant in her dreams. Now she dreamed of the place she came from, her Momma's cooking and the men she had known that didn't plan their days around assuaging their rampant personal vanity and fast food. She had even once in his presence confided to her mother, in their native tongue, that, "It is like living with that vain slut, Branka 'Marilyn' Sraka, he even smells of cheap rouge."

The President sat up in the gilded bed -- modeled after the bed Benito Mussolini had gifted his mistress, with grinning putti and fruit and bulls. He cussed the reports and newspapers and magazines stacked on the bed, throwing them into the corner of the room with the fried-chicken buckets and secret sauce-stained paper boxes. He grabbed the silver tray, put the silver straw into his right nostril and snorted the gray, powdered rhino horn.

Looking down he frowned and muttered something under his breath. The powder was not having the desired effect. It was not enhancing the meager source of his genius for strategy and sales. He hoped that his recent trip to Russia, where they do that thing with urine, would soon pay off..." From "The Whore of Babylon Visits the Whiter House". By Franklin Cincinnatus.

 

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Kevin is (writing about yourself in the third person (illeism) is a trip) an artist/writer/carpenter and frustrated songwriter living in Johnson City, Texas. His latest frustrating songwriting attempt is titled, "I Touched the Hand That Touched (more...)
 

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