Ch. 9, The CIA Does Hollywood

After his failed television series, President Angel contracted Hollywood studio USBS to secretly produce a movie that would utterly destroy Chuck’s chances of ever becoming president of anything. Preparations for the movie began with the creation of Clowns In Action, the infamous CIA, of which President Angel made Chuck the governor and answerable only to him.

In Act One of this gripping movie, the audience learned that Governor Chuck would be eaten alive by a gigantic GMO rabbit unless he successfully completed his first CIA assignment, which was to extract back taxes and overdue mortgage payments from his shamefully unAmerikan family. A meeting was held during which he and his distinguished colleagues brainstormed for solutions. After three hours of silence, Governor Chuck broke into tears and wailed, “My parents and their parents and all my ancestors have never earned a cent! How am I supposed to squeeze oil out of a rock? How?

“Governor Chuck, if your mother consents to boink and oink with us, we could pay her,” kindly offered Agent John.

“Hey! That’s a great idea,” Governor Chuck replied before pushing John off his chair. “Anyone have a better one?”

“Overthrow Penny! Provoke a domestic uprising! Fund a coup!”

“Forget it. No one’s in charge there. My mother lets everyone do whatever they want. The only way to persuade them to do anything is to be awfully nice to them.”

“How they Hell are we supposed to be nice? Being nice goes against my manly nature,” complained Agent Badass.

“Well, I’m afraid it’s the only way. It won’t be easy, and grave risks are involved, for we are dealing with women who have a lot of experience being women. So, do we have any volunteers?”

“ME!” exclaimed CIA agent Kamikazi Yamaguchi-gumi, a cunning, manipulative clown highly skilled in the secret art of using comedy during top secret missions. Governor Bollocks knew him as a brother and trusted him with the most perilous assignment in the history of the CIA.

The Bollocks Brothel

Agent Yamaguchi-gumi carried a bouquet of flowers to 666 Cannabliss Lane. There, amidst the fog, a hellish incense curled up from tiny chimneys. At the entrance, Yamaguchi gathered his courage, rang the bell and blew his trumpet. Three corrupted and unclean aunties staggered out of the house.

“Johnny came to save the day!” cried Aunt Hiv, abruptly dropping her pants and jumping onto the guest.

“You came to do carpets and water the garden! We’ve been waiting so long for your second coming!” screeched Aunt Yeast as she gave Yamaguchi an indecent kiss.

“Please tickle my thighs with your beard!” Aunt Sivilitis crooned as Yamaguchi, smiling nervously, tripped into the filthy home. Inside, the women were singing these slanderous blasphemies by Petrushka “the Devil” Doodink:

Jesus! Our lord is no more!

That boy didn’t finish his chore!

He raised our hopes,

And piqued our interest,

Then let us fall

From the edge of our seats.

Oh, boo-hoo-hoo! Boo-hoo-hoo!

 

Then, for laughs, that insolent gang of economic misfits sang the sarcastic lyrics of Economic Fantasy #1:

Hey, hey! Hey, hey!

I’ve got good news today:

We’re out of debt!

Our hero did his job

And went to bed

To pay our debts!

He did, he really did!

The boy without a mind,

He was the bride;

The slave-devouring,

Energy-burning,

Fire-breathing,

Continent-straddling

Global Economy—

He somehow satisfied.

Hurrah! Haha!

He paid the bribe,

And freed the bunny tribe!

 

They loved it. Of course they did! Though none of it was true, at least not quite yet. If they had just a little more faith, they might have warbled a different song.

 

A Date with the Devil

Penny Bollocks met her guest in the sunroom.

“Can I help you?”

“My name is Mr Yamaguchi-gumi, and I’d like to take Bitch out on a date.”

“On which date?”

Yamaguchi checked his iGod for the date and confidently reported, “Today, mam.”

“I see. And are you clean?”

He sniffed himself. “I smell pretty good and I don’t think I’ve slept with any bunny since I started earning piles of luv at the CIA.”

“Good to hear. And how much do you earn per year?”

“More than enough to support ten wives.”

“Excellent. But, if you don’t mind me asking, does Bitch know you?”

“She won’t if you keep interviewing me.”

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” she lied as she began playing footsie with her visitor. “So, just what does the CIA expect you to do today?”

Yamaguchi-gumi couldn’t remember. He frisked himself, produced a crumpled note and read, “Rescue her from a world of tyranny and human rights abuses!”

Penny cried in false astonishment, “Oh, my! Human rights abuses? Oh, dear! What kind?”

“Name calling, sexual exploitation, poverty, underemployment, and etcetera.”

“Oh my, these are serious charges.”

“They are indeed.”

“Now that I think of it, she does have too much sex and too little work and money. Well, if you think you can fix this, please wait a moment. I’ll see if I can find her for you.”

“Thank you.”

In Act Two, Penny stalked Yamaguchi-gumi through the house and around the marijuana tree growing in the yard. He was feeling quite abandoned by his hosts when he felt his buttocks being pinched and turned to find Bitch grinning like a beast and dressed—if you can call it dressed—in a skin-tight, skin-colored outfit. Yama gave her his flower.

“Why, thank you, Mr Yama. And what poor plant did you castrate for me?”

“I … could we talk somewhere private?”

“For true privacy, you’ll have to talk alone.”

“What if we talk through a wall?”

“That sounds so romantic!” she squealed and gave the CIA agent an immoderately sensuous hug before looking down at him. “Mr Yamaguchi, may I ask you a question?”

Mr Yamaguchi-gumi shuffled his enormous feet. “If you do, I will answer with lies because everything I do must be secretive. It’s the policy of the CIA,” he quietly explained as he scanned the surroundings with his special iGod spy-glasses to see if anyone was listening. Then, touching Bitch’s ear with his scruffy beard, he whispered, “My business is quite urgent.”

The witch smiled and wickedly hinted, “We all have urges.” Then she escorted her suitor to a cunningly prepared bed of lavender, catnip and balls of cotton. Agent Kamikazi stood stiffly, watching as the graceful seductress tossed her hair and reclined in that womanly manner that could tempt angels to destruction. “So,” she breathed, “you funny man, what would you like to talk about?”

“Ahem. Miss Bitch, if I may, I … I believe you are being mistreated here by a certain tyrant, an evil power I need not name. Ever since you were conceived, she has denied you the joys of civilized life, joys such as education, transportation, medication, telecommunication and … freedom from oppression.”

“Oh, you impress me with your big words. Oppression! I love it! You know, I’ve felt oppressed forever! My libido oppresses me most of all. And my stomach, too. Together, they absolutely tyrannize me!”

Looking upon her with pained sympathy, he passed her a paper bag containing a pile of luv, then whispered, “It’s for you.”

“Thank you. Uhm, what is it?”

“It’s my life savings. Tell your mother she can have it if she promises to pay her taxes and to stop exploiting your you-know …”

She laughed. “My yuno?”

“Your …” his voice shrank and fell. “Uhm, your bunny hole.”

The cruel wench nearly died laughing.

“Bitch!” cried her date. “I’m serious! You know your brother was supposed to save Amerika and you know the damn fool sold his country to Latino, Arab and African sex clowns!”

“So what? This is very mysterious. What is the association between my brother’s treason and all this money?”

Yamaguchi-gumi blushed, mumbled something, then gained a little confidence and stated, “I shouldn’t tell you this, but you leave me now choice. Yesterday, God said if I … ahem, sleep with you then you will conceive a boy who will fulfill the greatest biblical prophecy, the one that says ‘Amerika will do the world.’”

Do the world? Do the world what?”

“I don’t know. I guess, do the world a favor?”

“I see. So you need my special yuno so that you, I mean I, can conceive a superior, new generation Chuck. Oh my, you certainly know how to get a girl’s attention, Mr Yama.”

He grunted and started priming his pump.

“But,” she continued almost apologetically, “I’m sorry, today my yuno is bleeding.”

Yamaguchi-gumi’s erection slumped and his face reddened. “Tell me what monster did this to you! I’ll kill him!”

“Would you like to ride our seesaw?”

“I … a seesaw?” He paused to consider it. “I’m scared. Where’s the washroom?”

Bitch pointed him towards the guest outhouse. It looked like a simple affair, but inside was a deep, lush carpet; above was a sky-blue ceiling; and all around were moss-colored walls illustrated with a life-like image of our Lord’s celestial buttocks, which Yama mistook for bulbous female udders because his mind was teeming with degrading hormones and undignified lust for bunny flesh. But even that evil power was nothing compared to the pressure inside his constipated ass. Bitch could not bear to hear him struggle and show him how to perform a Himalayan tantric chant to create a gentle, internal pressure on his bowels. The trick produced a successful movement, but then he could not find any toilet paper, so he wiped himself with a handful of cash and—thanks be to God—he received a hundred paper cuts for his indiscretion!

Honestly, with idiots like that around, small wonder that President Angel invented softer forms of money.

 

Treason and Desertion

Yamaguchi-gumi washed up and returned with a new erection. Bitch complimented his readiness to serve his country. However, before taking him to Satan’s bush, she asked in her sweetest voice, “Yama dear, I don’t mean to be a poop, but please tell me why Chuck is such a disappointment that the world needs a new one. And please explain why you think I am uniquely qualified to conceive a new and superior Chuck. Why not my mother or grandmother? They’re both still horny as bonobos.”

Yamaguchi-gumi didn’t want to admit that her mother, grandmother and aunts had already used him for their pleasure, and he didn’t need to, because women have the annoying habit of talking about everything. Anyway, to avoid Bitch’s suggestion, poor Yama awkwardly replied, “They are also very beautiful, and skilled, but they don’t wag their tails as well as you do.”

“Well, I’m flattered,” she replied as she squatted like a dog to pee. See here in this compromising position, Yamaguchi-gumi struggled to keep his erection. “But,” she continued to further distract him, “perhaps your entire mission is a mistake. Have you considered Chuck’s impressive list of accomplishments? He’s been a lord, a messiah, an ambassador and a President, and all before the age of 24. I think that’s a pretty good start.”

Yama’s member flopped and shriveled. With a deep sigh, he began, “That’s true. Chuck achieved a lot, but he did not fulfill his destiny. In case you haven’t noticed,” he added, irritably, unconsciously squashing his limp penis in his fist, “Amerika is still in the Greatest Depression. Employment is out of fashion and the economy has shriveled into a state of impotence!”

“Well, when you put it like that, I guess we don’t have much choice about the matter. You’d better get to work right away.”

“I’d better get to work? What about you? I ain’t giving another free ride! I … oops.”

“I see. Well, I hope you’re not afraid of a little blood, Mr Yama.”

This question greatly disturbed Agent Yamaguchi-gumi. “You expect blood? Why? Do you like violent sex?” he asked, turning pale.

“No, you fool! Look, I’m menstruating like a dying pig!”

“So what? They don’t call me Kamikazi-gumi for nothing!”

“That’s good to know. But wait, if you boldly proceed, you do know that after conception I’ll still need nine months to just make a chicken-sized savior of the world, and then I’ll need a little over a decade to build him into a man, or a woman. It all depends, of course. So, unless you’ve made long-term plans, we face some serious problems, don’t we?”

Yamaguchi’s penis was no longer responding to stimuli.

“Maybe you should give Chuck another chance,” Bitch suggested.

Yamaguchi-gumi began to sob, not about his missed opportunity, but for the economy, for the wounded and bleeding Amerikan economy, and he sobbed even more from knowing he was too much a coward to ever confess his failure to his superiors at the Central Idiocy Agency. So, the coward decided to defect to that evil household. I warned him against it. I prophesied horrible diseases, but the cunning witches had already cast their wicked spells and charms so that no-good traitor happily slaved day and night, keeping the Devil’s stoves full of kindling and her foul gardens fertilized and flourishing!!

 

The Clowns Conspire

When Agent Fubb first heard the news he and his fellow clowns were sitting with Ronald Maddonald wolfing down bunnyburgers. They nearly choked. Indeed, Fubb was so furious he dialed Yamaguchi-gumi’s top-secret telepathic line:

“Who’s interrupting my thoughts now with this infernal ringing? Hello?” thought Yamaguchi.

“Kamikazi! You traitor! It’s me!” said Fubb, mimicking the governor’s voice.

“Oh, hi, Chuck. Where are you?”

Never mind where I am! I know what you’re doing, and I hope you know it’s suicidal.”

“Is talking to women dangerous?”

“The CIA is your life and you’re quitting for what? For a life with mangos and unprotected sex? You fool! I hope they rape you like they raped me!”

“Fubb, you shouldn’t eat at Maddonald’s. It not good for you.”

Fubb had an aneurism and reported everything to his superior, Governor C. Bollocks. The governor immediately shouted into Fubb’s iGod: “Kami, you clown! You were supposed to sow the seeds of their discontent and start a revolution, instead you’re giving them leisure and pleasure! Come back here before they pollute your fine DNA!”

Yamaguchi-gumi began to sob like a girl, “I’m doomed! They brainwashed me with dirty thoughts!! All I can think about is bleeding bushes, one-eyed moles, serpents in tree trunks and –”

Governor C. Bollocks shoved Fubb’s iGod into Fubb’s back pocket. There the vibrations caused by Agent Kamikazi’s distressed voice turned the old man into a young pig.

Imf Ikwum made this brilliant suggestion to Governor Bollocks, “We must close your mother’s brothel before we lose more good men.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“We can cripple the whores with a shopping embargo!”

The governor replied, “Don’t waste your time with trade sanctions. They grow almost everything they need. For the rest, they trade with other criminals.”

Agent Goldsack swore, “All traders are traitors! Ahem, unless they’re into luv and stocks!”

Agent Monstranso grinned perversely, wiped some industrial food from his lips and made this proposal: “Let’s use the old Trojan Horse trick. Send them baskets full of free food spiked with cancer-causing agents. What do you think?”

“Useless,” said Governor C. Bollocks. “My barbaric family only eats what it claws out of the earth.”

“Then let’s get our engineers to poison the Earth,” eagerly cried Agent Zuesid.

“Excellent idea,” remarked the governor. “But we can’t afford the engineers. We must rely on the cheapest god in the universe.”

“The Chinese one?”

“No, the Amerikan one, you idiot! If we flood him with complaints he’ll eventually piss on my family’s little Nature reserve and not charge us a cent.”

Thinking that was true, like good Christians they prayed and prayed and prayed in vain, for the Director-Producer of the Universe was not in the office. Eventually, their pretty prayers petered and fell into embarrassed silence. Finally, Costar Agent Foulface finally got the nerve to say something really stupid:

“Do you know what happened to me this morning? I found the weirdest passage in the CIA Handbook of Fairness. I haven’t a clue what it means. I quote, ‘If the enemy has no god you shall not employ a god against him. If the enemy has the same god as you, please don’t make life difficult for your god by asking him to hurt his other faithful followers.’”

Governor Bollocks laughed, “Does it say anything about fighting Satan and her witches?”

“Yes. Here, on page 6.66.”

“Very funny. But I’m serious. Let us pray that our god is stronger than Satan and all her witches.”

They agreed and they prayed. One fruitless week later, I told them to shut up and take action.

“Governor,” began Agent Smartass, “does ‘taking action’ involve ‘getting some action’?”

“NO!” the governor gasped as he glimpsed a waitress with chocolate all over her face and remembered he’d ordered a soft, chocolatey cake.

 

Sex in Church

Well, pretty soon everyone talked of quitting the damn CIA and attending a satanic church like the one the Grand Moolah attended. Others dreamed of going to an illegal school to learn how to earn nothing but “true” love, but just as they began dialing Satan’s Love Works College, a 3000-page study of the education system fell from Heaven and slammed onto the table. Faithful Agent Sapfu read the whole damn thing to his stunned colleagues. The report painted such a depressing picture of the future awaiting college graduates that every damn idiot started dreaming of being ‘homeschooled’ by Penny Bollocks or by one of her uncertified whores operating in homeschooling branches in poor neighborhood where they charged clients nothing but voluntary donations of goods and/or services and guaranteed three genuine orgasms per session.

Governor Bollocks saw their dreamy eyes and laughed, “Pigs and traitors! If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were all dreaming of Hell! Haven’t you heard of the dangers? You really ought to stick to government approved sexaurants and satisfy your lust at places like Urges King, Starfucks, Dainty Queen, Dunk Yo-nuts, Piece a Slut, Snugway, and KuFC.”

Next, in a last bid to make the government happy and get some luv (taxes) from Bollocks Brothel Inc., he proceeded to his next plan and instructed several handsome postal workers to deliver a Taxes Due notice to his mother. He hoped their charm and good looks would persuade her that the government deserved a little of her money; instead, those poor postal workers were disappeared! And that wasn’t all. The whore secretly united everyone in the corporate sex world and led a devastating, nation-wide sex strike that crippled Washington and Ball Street. Cries of suffering rose up to Heaven, but to no avail. The following day, Amerika surrendered. The government amended the Constitution with an article declaring that sex workers were no longer required to serve strangers and could decide who and how many men they served. Plus, Satan’s evil churches received official tax exemption status and the Bollocks multi-generation family mortgage was paid by an anonymous angel who shall never see Heaven again.

 

The Epilogue

Well, that’s a fair description of the president’s reality movie. The plot was a goddamn disaster and even the cinematography was horrible, for the whole thing was filmed via Goggle satellites. But Amerikans thought it was so cool to see their country from God’s perspective that the stupid movie broke all box office records.

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