("Quid coniuratio est?")
FLYING HIGH WITH COMMANDER BILLY JEFF
"A Scenario"
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Billy Jeff put on the epaulettes and looked in the mirror. "Now I truly am a Commander!" he exclaimed. "Commander Billy Jeff!"
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"The Commander" snuck out back behind the White House to puff on a cigar. "I sure do hope Hillary doesn't find out!"
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The wind wreaked havoc on his $200 hairdo. "Aw darnit, anyway!" he groaned. "Oh well. I'll just open a $200 line of credit and get another haircut!"
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Commander Billy Jeff threw down the old stogie. "Say. I sure am horny," he thought.
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Marie, the new White House maid, was dusting the Lincoln Bedroom. She wore the latest skimpy French maid's outfit. Commander Billy Jeff entered the bedroom, shut the door, and locked it behind him. He pulled down his pants. "Mon Dieu!" exclaimed Marie. "I am not paid for thees!"
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The Commander advanced toward Marie. "Come here, Frenchy. It's a matter of national security," he ordered.
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Marie ran around the advancing Billy Jeff and his erect member, narrowly escaping his grasping paws. She tried opening the door -- but it was locked! He was in hot pursuit!
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The door was unlocked from the other side. In walked Hillary. "Thank Heaven!" thought Marie. "That bitch ruined my fun," muttered Billy Jeff.
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Marie escaped, at least for the time being. Hillary spoke to the Commander: "For God's sake, pull your pants up, will you? You're supposed to be an intellectual, remember?"
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Hillary came closer. "Say, what's that I smell?" she asked. "Why it smells like a stinky old cigar!" Billy Jeff began to cower. "I, I, I..."
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Hillary exploded. "Billy Jeff!" she shrieked. "You know you're only allowed to smoke marijuana in here!" She socked Billy Jeff hard -- POW! -- right in his now-wilting member.
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He sure didn't look like any "Commander" now, not moaning on the floor with his pants down, holding his pained member, in the Lincoln Bedroom of the White House. Hillary stalked out in a huff. "Oh gee whiz. That bitch is always ruining my fun," he blubbered as the tears fell down his face.
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After a few minutes, Commander Billy Jeff felt a little better. A happy thought occurred to him: "Hey! My brother Roger is in town with his hillbilly band!"
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The Commander picked up the phone. "Secret Service? Get some limousines out back, pronto. It's a diplomatic mission."
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Riding in the back of a limousine, on the way to the seedy side of town where Roger's hillbilly band was playing a "gig", Billy Jeff poured himself a tall, cool whisky sour. "Say, can't you go any faster?!" he snapped at the driver.
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The limousine pulled up in front of a cheap tavern in the seedy side of town. "Keep the motor running, and put it on my line of credit!" laughed Billy Jeff as he exited the limousine.
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But Roger wasn't there! "Dog-gonnit! I wanted to have some fun!" complained Commander Billy Jeff. The bartender and one old boozer were the only other ones inside the bar.
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"Where's Roger and his hillbilly band?" inquired Billy Jeff.
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"Aw, those guys? They were shit," said the bartender. "Those bums couldn't make it even if they were the President's relatives! We threw those bums out last night."
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Commander Billy Jeff felt his ears turn red. He was getting very angry. "Threw them out... threw them out..." he fumed.
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A black cloud seemed to form over Billy Jeff's head. "...threw them out..."
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He advanced toward the bartender. "Say," he said very quietly. "You can't throw people around like that. Don't you know that's illegal?"
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The bartender looked up from where he was polishing glasses. "Huh?" he asked.
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Billy Jeff stood full up against the bar. "Don't you know that's illegal? Don't you know we can be 'tough on crime'?" he uttered venomously.
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The bartender began to look worried. "Hey. We cancelled them, that's all."
[...to be continued...]
I encourage distribution of "Conspiracy Nation."
Coming to you from Illinois -- "The Land of Skolnick"