(The following editorial appeared in the Sunday, November 30, edition of the Chicago Tribune):
The McCarthy Park Massacre. All of our readers are, by now, thoroughly familiar with this unfortunate incident. All of our readers know the world of journalism lost Les Nesman in the Massacre. All of our readers know of the call from PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) for a criminal investigation into publishing giant Rampant Loon’s role in the Massacre; a call the editors second most heartily. Despite the immediacy of these stories, they serve only to misdirect attention from the true issue.
What is to be done with those who have contracted Acquired Lycanthropic Polymorphism Syndrome, or ALPS as it is called in the popular press?
The editors are second to none in their compassion for the poor souls who, through no fault of their own, have contracted this dread disease. But compassion must be tempered with caution. Unlike cancer or AIDS, those who suffer from ALPS are a threat to the community around them. We fully understand that these wretched individuals are not to blame for their rampages. We fully understand their bestial alter egos are beyond their control. But we also fully understand the citizens of this city, this state, this country deserve to walk the streets without fear of attack.
Consider the toll paid in the McCarthy Park Massacre:
- Les Nesman, news reporter for NPR station WWSL
- George Sweeny, cameraman for WWSL TV
- Two pedestrians, identities still unknown
- 62 turkeys
- An unknown number of pigeons and squirrels
This toll is too high to pay once, yet similar stories are found in city after city across this great land of ours.
Therefore, the editors call upon the federal government to step forward and take ownership of problem. Until a cure is found, we call upon President-Elect Obama to put an end to the fear and horror. Until a cure is found, we call for a real War on Terror, a war on the terror ALPS brings to communities large and small, rich and poor, urban and rural. Until a cure is found, we call on President-Elect Obama to protect our husbands and wives, our sons and daughters. Until a cure is found, we call on President-Elect Obama to order the internment of all those who suffer from ALPS.
It's for the children.
Showing posts with label Obama. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Obama. Show all posts
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Bay of Pigs
Bill kicked the posts of his McCain yard sign firmly into the clay of his front yard.
Not the best candidate… but at least he’s sure to keep the war going.
Bill was a big fan of war. Our boys were the best… and he loved to see ‘em prove it. He was a military history junkie. ALPS had kept him from the service, but it hadn’t taken the steel and gunpowder from his blood.
His father had fought in Nam. His grandfather had fought in WWII, and there was a steel German helmet in their closet proving his great-grandfather’s service in WWI.
Before that, the family could trace members that had fought in Mexico, against the Indians, against the British and before that, against the French.
Bill dusted off his hands and looked at the sign in satisfaction.
Then he noticed something profoundly disturbing.
Across the street, there was another sign.
Obama 2008.
He felt a twist inside his stomach.
Obama 2008.
He didn’t trust Obama. He was weak. One of those scum-sucking commie anti-war libs dedicated to the sissification of America.
Obama 2008.
It was staring at him.
Be a good neighbor… be a good neighbor… be a good neighbor. People have a right to their beliefs, no matter how pathetic and weak.
Then he saw something else across the street.
His sissy liberal neighbor was grinning at him. Drinking a tiny sissy cup of sissy espresso. And grinning.
I hate that guy… but… I need to control myself. Remember the bay of pigs!
The “bay of pigs” was his wife’s name for a particularly explosive transformation that had almost put them behind bars back when they were dating. How prison had been avoided was still anyone’s guess. If they’d found the bodies… well, maybe they’d just think it was an animal attack? Yeah right… like animals tied rocks to bodies.
There had to have been a “human” involved.
What about a were-human?
Ha!
-----
He and Sharon had been cruising along on a perfect late afternoon, top down, enjoying the breeze blowing in their hair. It was a perfect day. They’d picked flowers at the park, danced for hours at a free open-air jazz festival and held hands as they’d strolled along the river. Now he was taking her back to her parents’ place for dinner. To their left was a sparkling bay… to the right… the smoky green woods.
She really was a classy girl. Ever since his first whiff of her hair, he’d been captivated. His attraction was wild, powerful, and unstoppable. He had to make her his. Being a gentleman, he could hardly wait for their wedding day when she’d finally belong to him… mind… soul… and especially body.
As he gripped the wheel… he was thinking about when he could finally get up the nerve to pop the question… and how to tell her about his condition.
And he was driving a bit too fast.
WHOOP!
A siren burst on behind them. Blue lights flashed angrily.
“Oh shoot…”
Sharon looked at him with a half-grin. “Think you were going a little fast there, sweetie?”
“Yeah… shoot… I’ll pull over here, darn it.”
He pulled over to the side of the road. The cop car crunched up on the gravel behind him, raising dust in the slanted rays of the setting sun.
Two cops stepped out of their cruiser, hands on their guns.
“Well, Share, guilty ‘til proven innocent, it looks like.”
“Just be cool, Willy… you’ll be fine.”
“Evenin’ son.”
“Good evening officer. How can I help you?”
The cop spit on the ground.
“How you gonna help me? You another officer? Give me your g------ license and registration and shut the hell up.”
Bill shuffled around in his glove compartment. Wrappers, torn maps and brochures fell onto the floor at Sharon’s feet as she tried to help him.
The officer snarled at him. “Come on kid, I ain’t got all night.”
“I’m doing my best, okay?”
The cop leaned in the window. His face was red and dark.
“An attitude like that’s gonna land your ass in jail. Give me your docs.”
Behind the car, the other officer was looking at their license plate. Then he came up to Sharon’s window.
“Hey there, babe. Why are you hanging around with a loser like this?”
She started, shocked. “That’s none of your business, officer.”
Bill heard the interchange as he finally handed over his crumpled registration to Officer #1. He was seething inside. And then he realized what was about to happen.
“Officer?”
“Yeah?”
“I really, REALLY have to pee.”
“What the hell you trying to pull?”
“I just have to go! I was, uh, sort of driving fast so I could get to a bathroom. Seriously.”
The officer looked at him.
“You think I’m a damn fool?”
“No sir, absolutely not.”
The officer stared at him for minute, then relented.
“You can take a whiz by the road in those trees. But if you pull anything, so help me I’ll shoot you.”
He backed away from the window. The other officer was leering at Sharon.
Bill stepped out slowly, feeling his were-self rise within him. He had to get out of Sharon’s sight – quick! Control… control…
He walked briskly to the woods, then entered.
“That’s enough,” the officer barked at him.
Bill needed to get a little further out of view. In front of him was a brush-filled gully. Feigning a struggle with his zipper, he tripped forwards down the slope as if it were accidental.
“Ahhh!” he yelped. The officer was caught off-guard. He ran forwards to the edge of the gully – but didn’t see anything. He fired his gun wildly into the trees.
“Come out, damn you!”
No answer.
“I’m warning you, punk – OUT!”
He took a step forward, gun drawn.
Then another step.
Then he took his final step. From behind a tree, a hairy arm snatched out and took his gun.
And his arm with it.
With a howl of rage, Bill the were-tiger tore into the officer’s chest and tore his heart out.
The body slumped to the ground and Bill crouched with it, feasting on hot flesh, jaws snatching bite after bite of Smithburg’s finest.
With a start, he realized what he’d just done. His animal brain wanted to gorge on blood… but the dim human brain behind it was recoiling in horror.
Sharon!
He left the officer’s corpse behind the trees and snuck furtively back towards the car.
The passenger door was open.
Beside it, the second officer lay in a pool of blood.
And the most gorgeous leopard-woman in the world was licking her lips as she took another bite from his gaping chest.
Bill’s heart leapt inside him! This was HIS girl! His beautiful leopard girl! His wonderful, sweet jazz-dancing Sharon!
He sprang from the woods to her. Her dress hung off her spotted sides… and as he nuzzled up to her, a glimpse of her perfect row of teats drove him wild. To keep himself from ravishing her, he instead took a monstrous bite from Officer #2.
Then, slowly, he started to return to human form… and as he did, he suddenly was struck with the danger of their situation.
So far, the road had been empty – but this body needed to disappear – fast! Together, he and his gorgeous were-girl dragged the corpse quickly across the road and threw it over the cliff into the bay, having tied it to a heavy rock with their jumper cables. They did the same with the first officer… except this time they had to use the officer’s belt.
Both sank into the deep water.
Sharon was looking more human again, as was he. They were both covered in gore.
“I’m sorry, Willy… I couldn’t help myself. He was… being really gross. I just… snapped.”
“It’s okay… I’m just happy you’re fine. I can’t believe you’re one too.”
She grinned toothily. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know yet.”
After embracing, they quickly licked each other’s faces clean and jumped into the car.
And later that night, he asked.
And she said yes.
-----
His neighbor was still grinning. But now Bill was grinning too.
Remembering the “bay of pigs” always put him in a better mood. With a grin, he waved to the sissy liberal and then went into his house whistling.
He had a documentary on D-Day waiting with his name on it.
And soon, Sharon would be back from the kid’s T-ball game.
Life was good!
Not the best candidate… but at least he’s sure to keep the war going.
Bill was a big fan of war. Our boys were the best… and he loved to see ‘em prove it. He was a military history junkie. ALPS had kept him from the service, but it hadn’t taken the steel and gunpowder from his blood.
His father had fought in Nam. His grandfather had fought in WWII, and there was a steel German helmet in their closet proving his great-grandfather’s service in WWI.
Before that, the family could trace members that had fought in Mexico, against the Indians, against the British and before that, against the French.
Bill dusted off his hands and looked at the sign in satisfaction.
Then he noticed something profoundly disturbing.
Across the street, there was another sign.
Obama 2008.
He felt a twist inside his stomach.
Obama 2008.
He didn’t trust Obama. He was weak. One of those scum-sucking commie anti-war libs dedicated to the sissification of America.
Obama 2008.
It was staring at him.
Be a good neighbor… be a good neighbor… be a good neighbor. People have a right to their beliefs, no matter how pathetic and weak.
Then he saw something else across the street.
His sissy liberal neighbor was grinning at him. Drinking a tiny sissy cup of sissy espresso. And grinning.
I hate that guy… but… I need to control myself. Remember the bay of pigs!
The “bay of pigs” was his wife’s name for a particularly explosive transformation that had almost put them behind bars back when they were dating. How prison had been avoided was still anyone’s guess. If they’d found the bodies… well, maybe they’d just think it was an animal attack? Yeah right… like animals tied rocks to bodies.
There had to have been a “human” involved.
What about a were-human?
Ha!
-----
He and Sharon had been cruising along on a perfect late afternoon, top down, enjoying the breeze blowing in their hair. It was a perfect day. They’d picked flowers at the park, danced for hours at a free open-air jazz festival and held hands as they’d strolled along the river. Now he was taking her back to her parents’ place for dinner. To their left was a sparkling bay… to the right… the smoky green woods.
She really was a classy girl. Ever since his first whiff of her hair, he’d been captivated. His attraction was wild, powerful, and unstoppable. He had to make her his. Being a gentleman, he could hardly wait for their wedding day when she’d finally belong to him… mind… soul… and especially body.
As he gripped the wheel… he was thinking about when he could finally get up the nerve to pop the question… and how to tell her about his condition.
And he was driving a bit too fast.
WHOOP!
A siren burst on behind them. Blue lights flashed angrily.
“Oh shoot…”
Sharon looked at him with a half-grin. “Think you were going a little fast there, sweetie?”
“Yeah… shoot… I’ll pull over here, darn it.”
He pulled over to the side of the road. The cop car crunched up on the gravel behind him, raising dust in the slanted rays of the setting sun.
Two cops stepped out of their cruiser, hands on their guns.
“Well, Share, guilty ‘til proven innocent, it looks like.”
“Just be cool, Willy… you’ll be fine.”
“Evenin’ son.”
“Good evening officer. How can I help you?”
The cop spit on the ground.
“How you gonna help me? You another officer? Give me your g------ license and registration and shut the hell up.”
Bill shuffled around in his glove compartment. Wrappers, torn maps and brochures fell onto the floor at Sharon’s feet as she tried to help him.
The officer snarled at him. “Come on kid, I ain’t got all night.”
“I’m doing my best, okay?”
The cop leaned in the window. His face was red and dark.
“An attitude like that’s gonna land your ass in jail. Give me your docs.”
Behind the car, the other officer was looking at their license plate. Then he came up to Sharon’s window.
“Hey there, babe. Why are you hanging around with a loser like this?”
She started, shocked. “That’s none of your business, officer.”
Bill heard the interchange as he finally handed over his crumpled registration to Officer #1. He was seething inside. And then he realized what was about to happen.
“Officer?”
“Yeah?”
“I really, REALLY have to pee.”
“What the hell you trying to pull?”
“I just have to go! I was, uh, sort of driving fast so I could get to a bathroom. Seriously.”
The officer looked at him.
“You think I’m a damn fool?”
“No sir, absolutely not.”
The officer stared at him for minute, then relented.
“You can take a whiz by the road in those trees. But if you pull anything, so help me I’ll shoot you.”
He backed away from the window. The other officer was leering at Sharon.
Bill stepped out slowly, feeling his were-self rise within him. He had to get out of Sharon’s sight – quick! Control… control…
He walked briskly to the woods, then entered.
“That’s enough,” the officer barked at him.
Bill needed to get a little further out of view. In front of him was a brush-filled gully. Feigning a struggle with his zipper, he tripped forwards down the slope as if it were accidental.
“Ahhh!” he yelped. The officer was caught off-guard. He ran forwards to the edge of the gully – but didn’t see anything. He fired his gun wildly into the trees.
“Come out, damn you!”
No answer.
“I’m warning you, punk – OUT!”
He took a step forward, gun drawn.
Then another step.
Then he took his final step. From behind a tree, a hairy arm snatched out and took his gun.
And his arm with it.
With a howl of rage, Bill the were-tiger tore into the officer’s chest and tore his heart out.
The body slumped to the ground and Bill crouched with it, feasting on hot flesh, jaws snatching bite after bite of Smithburg’s finest.
With a start, he realized what he’d just done. His animal brain wanted to gorge on blood… but the dim human brain behind it was recoiling in horror.
Sharon!
He left the officer’s corpse behind the trees and snuck furtively back towards the car.
The passenger door was open.
Beside it, the second officer lay in a pool of blood.
And the most gorgeous leopard-woman in the world was licking her lips as she took another bite from his gaping chest.
Bill’s heart leapt inside him! This was HIS girl! His beautiful leopard girl! His wonderful, sweet jazz-dancing Sharon!
He sprang from the woods to her. Her dress hung off her spotted sides… and as he nuzzled up to her, a glimpse of her perfect row of teats drove him wild. To keep himself from ravishing her, he instead took a monstrous bite from Officer #2.
Then, slowly, he started to return to human form… and as he did, he suddenly was struck with the danger of their situation.
So far, the road had been empty – but this body needed to disappear – fast! Together, he and his gorgeous were-girl dragged the corpse quickly across the road and threw it over the cliff into the bay, having tied it to a heavy rock with their jumper cables. They did the same with the first officer… except this time they had to use the officer’s belt.
Both sank into the deep water.
Sharon was looking more human again, as was he. They were both covered in gore.
“I’m sorry, Willy… I couldn’t help myself. He was… being really gross. I just… snapped.”
“It’s okay… I’m just happy you’re fine. I can’t believe you’re one too.”
She grinned toothily. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know yet.”
After embracing, they quickly licked each other’s faces clean and jumped into the car.
And later that night, he asked.
And she said yes.
-----
His neighbor was still grinning. But now Bill was grinning too.
Remembering the “bay of pigs” always put him in a better mood. With a grin, he waved to the sissy liberal and then went into his house whistling.
He had a documentary on D-Day waiting with his name on it.
And soon, Sharon would be back from the kid’s T-ball game.
Life was good!
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