Unwilling to admit his bitter defeat, President Angel hired Hollywood studio USBS to secretly produce a movie that would absolutely ruin Chuck’s chances of becoming president of anything. Preparations for the movie began with the creation of the infamous Clowns In Action, or CIA, of which President Angel made Chuck the governor.
In Act One, Governor Chuck was scheduled to be eaten alive by a gigantic GMO rabbit unless he successfully completed his first CIA assignment in Act Three, but for comical effect, due to security issues, this assignment was not revealed to him until Act Five. His awesome assignment was to extract back taxes and overdue mortgage payments from his shamefully unAmerikan family.
During an emergency meeting, the governor 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?”
“Most beloved governor!” cried Agent John. “If your mother consents to boink and oink with us, we could pay her.”
“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. He was the most cunning, manipulative clown. He was so good, he could make women quit sex forever, which is why he was trusted with the most perilous assignment in the history of the CIA.
Agent Yamaguchi-gumi carried a box of heroin and cocaine-laced chocolates to 666 Cabbage Lane. A hellish incense curled up from tiny chimneys. Yamaguchi gathered his courage, rang the silent bell and blew his little trumpet. Three corrupted and unclean aunties staggered out of the house.
“Hey big boy, want some loving?” drawled Aunt Hiv.
“What you got in the box, honey?” squealed Aunt Yeast as she gave Yamaguchi an indecent kiss.
“I never trust a man who shaves his manhood!” Aunt Sivilitis warned as if she knew that Yamaguchi was a fox, a dog, or a sneaky cat.
Yamaguchi gave each wench an intoxicating chocolate kiss. They couldn’t resist. Then, as they grew woozy, he slipped into the house, and there he heard these slanderous blasphemies sung by that evil pop star, Petrushka “the Devil” Doodink:
Stole our boy and honey!
Corrupted him with gold, drugs
And pornographic money!
Now our lord is no more!
Though he didn’t do his chore!
He raised our hopes,
And piqued our interest,
Then let us fall
From the edges of our seats.
Oh, boo-hoo-hoo! Boo-hoo-hoo!
Afterwards the Insolent Gang of Economic Misfits sang the sarcastic lyrics of Economic Fantasy #1:
Yet somehow satisfied
The universal 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, everyone has the right to fantasize. It’s good to religious exercise your imagination.
Penny Bollocks met her garishly dressed guest in the sunroom. After brief introductions, Penny asked, “Aren’t you the secret agent who tricked my son into working for the government when he was just learning how to think?”
“I’m not here to talk about the past. I’m here to take Bitch out on a date.”
“Oh? On a date? On which date?”
Yamaguchi checked his calendar for a date and confidently reported, “Today, mam.”
“I see. Mr Yamaguchi-gumi, how much do you earn per year?”
“Lots! Clowns are in short supply, mind altering jokes aren’t cheap, and you can’t put a price on a good laugh. Hey, have you seen my balloon?” he asked, looking around in a panic.
“It’s caught between your legs. Oh, isn’t that cute. Now, if you don’t mind me asking, does Bitch know you?”
“She won’t if you keep asking questions. Is this how you always treat clowns?”
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” she lied as she gently squeezed her visitor’s balloon. “So, just what does the CIA expect you to do today?”
Yamaguchi-gumi popped his balloon and from the remains he extracted a crumpled note which read, “I must rescue her from a world of tyranny and human rights abuses!”
“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 find her and take her to your circus.”
“That is precisely my plan.”
In Act Two, Penny stalked Yamaguchi-gumi through the house and around her marijuana tree growing in the yard. He had no luck locating the wench until he felt his butt being pinched. Bitch grinned like a beast in a skin-tight leopard outfit. Yama gasped and surrendered his only flower to her.
“Why, thank you, Mr Yama. And what poor plant did you castrate for me?”
“What … uhm, I’m not a botanist.”
“Are you, perhaps, a buttonist?”
“Could we talk somewhere private?”
“Certainly, but for true privacy, you’ll have to talk alone.”
Mr Yamaguchi shed a tear, but rather than winning an agreement to go somewhere private, he received an immoderate hug. After he stopped blushing, Bitch asked him about whether she could ask him whether she could ask him questions.
Mr Yamaguchi-gumi scratched his head and asked for clarification. After hearing an even more confusion rendition, he shuffled his floppy shoes and answered, “If you ask me anything about my privates, I will lie because everything about me must be secretive. It’s the policy of the CIA,” he quietly explained as he scanned the surroundings with his special iGod spy-glasses.
“So, what exactly is your business?”
Yamaguchi inflated a fresh balloon, tickled Bitch’s neck with his scruffy beard and whispered, “My business is quite urgent.”
“We all have urges,” the wicked witch wickedly winked. Then she escorted her suitor to a cunningly prepared bed that smelled of sweat, fish and hints of putrid lavender, catnip and balls of cotton. Agent Kamikazi stood stiffly watching as the graceful witch tossed her hair and reclined in that seductive manner that leads even angels to destruction.
“So,” she breathed, “you funny man, what would you like to talk about?”
He sat down with a grave expression, nervously twisted his purple balloon and began, “Ahem. Miss Bitch, if I may, I … I believe you are being mistreated here by a certain tyrant, an evil power that has never allowed you to go to the circus, an evil power that has denied you all the joys of civilized life, joys such as education, transportation, medication, telecommunication and –”
“And circuses.”
“No, and freedom from oppression!”
“Oh, Mr Yamaguchi! You certainly know how impress a lady 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.”
“Thanks. Uhm, what is it?”
“It’s my life savings. Tell your mother she can have it if she promises to pay her taxes and promises 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 our Ultimate and Supreme Ass and you know the damn fool sank it deeper into debt by borrowing all his vaunted luv from Latino, Arab and African sex clowns!”
“I see. So we should secretly give your money to the government. Anything else?”
Yamaguchi-gumi blushed, mumbled, then gained a little confidence and confessed, “I shouldn’t tell you this, but you leave me no choice. Yesterday, God said if I … ahem, sleep with you, you will conceive a boy, a boy destined to fulfill the great biblical prophecy that Ultimate and Superior Ass 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. His face reddened. He inspected the wound and blustered, “This is an outrage! Tell me what monster did this to you! I’ll kill him!”
“Please, don’t overreach. Would you like to try our seesaw?”
“A seesaw?” He paused to consider it and checked his CIA handbook for the rules. “Sorry, government clowns are strictly forbidden from using seesaws while on the job. But, I would like to us your toilet.”
Bitch pointed him towards a luxurious outhouse. 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. For comic relief, Bitch taught him to perform a Himalayan tantric chant as a way to create a gentle, internal pressure on his stubborn bowels. The trick produced a successful movement that left a mess on his asshole, so the toilet paper industry was indispensable, but no such paper was offered, so Yamaguchi-gumi wiped himself with a handful of cash. Honestly, with idiots like that around, small wonder that President Angel invented softer forms of money.
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 inquired in her sauciest 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.”
“The Bible says you and I must do it.”
“Oh, well, I’m flattered to be mentioned in that book,” she replied as she squatted to pee near a tree. “But,” she continued as she sprinkled abundantly and Yamaguchi’s balloon spluttered, “but, 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. Why replace him?”
Yama’s member flopped and shriveled. He sighed, “That’s true. Chuck achieved a lot, but he let us down. He did not convert Amerika into a profitable circus, so God still doesn’t love us,” he added, irritably, unconsciously squashing his limp penis in his hand as he continued, “and for these reasons he is responsible for the Greatest Depression and Amerika’s economic impotence!”
“Well, well, 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.”
“Blood? Do you like violent sex?” he asked, turning pale.
“No, you fool! Look, I’m menstruating like a dying pig!”
“Right! Well, they don’t call me Kamikazi-gumi for nothing!”
“That’s good to know. However, let me inform you that if you boldly proceed, even 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 thundered and screamed. I warned him. I prophesied horrible diseases, but the cunning witches had already cast their wicked charms of eternal bondage so that a free and noble agent Yama-Lama happily slaved day and night for the enemy, slaving to keep her hot stoves full of kindling and all her foul gardens fertilized and flourishing!!
When Agent Fubb first heard the news he and his fellow clowns were sitting with Ronald Maddonald wolfing down bunnyburgers. They nearly choked. 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 your tummy, and it’s mind-altering but in a really bad way.”
Fubb had an aneurism while Chubb reported squealed on Yamaguchi to Governor C. Bollocks, whereupon the governor 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 those mental witches pollute your fine CIA DNA!”
Yamaguchi-gumi began to sob like a girl, “But they were so nice to me.”
“They were too nice to you!”
He sobbed harder, nearly choked and blubbered, “I trusted and they brainwashed me with dirty thoughts about –”
Governor C. Bollocks shoved Fubb’s iGod into Fubb’s back pocket as Agent Kamikazi recounted the lurid and obscene charms of those horrible witches. Unfortunately, the iGod was on and vibrations produced by Agent Kamikazi’s voice turned the old man into a pig.
Imf Ikwum made this brilliant suggestion to Governor Bollocks, “We must close your mother’s brothel before we lose more good men.”
“I’ll do it!” said keener, Agent Bluff. “I’ll give them so much love that they’ll never open their doors again!”
“I appreciate your bravery, but it’s too dangerous,” explained the governor.
“Let’s cripple the whores with a shopping embargo!”
“Don’t waste your time with trade sanctions. They grow almost everything they need. For the rest, they trade with other eco-terrorists.”
Agent Goldsack swore, “All traders are traitors! Ahem, unless they’re into luv and sadomasochistic stocks!”
Agent Odius said, “You’ve given me an idea! Let’s use good old-fashioned war tactics. I’ll pretend to be a horse if someone agrees to be my knight. Anyone? I promise not to rear up.”
Agent Monstranso laughed, thanked Odius for giving him an idea. Grinning perversely, he wiped some fake food from his lips and made this proposal: “Let’s use the old Trojan Horse trick. Send the enemy baskets of apples spiked with vaccines, diabetes and 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 poison the Earth,” eagerly cried Agent Zuesid as he somehow peed two golden arches.
“Excellent idea,” remarked the governor. “But we can’t afford to buy beer and prescription drugs for a thousand engineers, which is the minimum we’d need if we want to take my mother by surprise. In light of this, we must rely on more affordable methods. I say we contact the cheapest god in the universe.”
“Which one is that? The Chinese one?”
“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.”
Like good Christians, the clowns 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. 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 in Action. 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 rocket-riding witches?”
“Yes. Here, on page 6.66.”
“Let us pray that our god is stronger than Satan 2.0 and all her minions.”
They prayed such awful prayers that one fruitless week later I told them to shut up and take action.
“Governor,” began Agent Smartass, “does ‘taking action’ involve ‘getting some action’?”
The governor didn’t hear. He’d glimpsed a waitress with chocolate all over her face and remembered he’d ordered a soft, chocolatey cake.
Well, pretty soon everyone talked of quitting the CIA and joining Satan for fun. Unfortunately, none of her churches were accepting new members, but Satan’s Love Works College was accepting fools. Fortunately, just as they began dialing the LWC number, a 3000-page government study of the education system was delivered by waitress. Faithful Agent Sapfu read the whole damn thing to his stunned colleagues. The report identified widespread Satanism among professors and generally painted a depressing picture of the future awaiting college graduates. Everyone was happy they had been homeschooled by aunts, grandmas and little girls.
Governor Bollocks saw the evil in their hearts and cried, “You pigs and traitors! If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were all dreaming of Hell’s naked sacrifices and genital abuses. Please stick to government approved sexaurants. You can easily satisfy your lust at places like Urges King, Starfucks, Dainty Queen, Dunk Yo-nuts, Piece a Slut, Snugway, and KuFC.”
In a last bid to get some luv (taxes) from his mother, Governor C. Bollocks instructed several handsome postal workers to deliver a Taxes Due notice. He hoped their charm and good looks would do the trick and persuade her that the government deserved some of her luv. But, like Yamaguchi, they failed miserably.
Then came the hour of calamity. Penny counter-attacked in devastating fashion. The strumpet led a 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. In a blow to the moral foundations of the universe, Satan’s evil churches received official tax exemption status and the Bollocks multi-generation family mortgage was paid by an anonymous angel.
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 of clown from God’s perspective that the stupid movie broke all box office records.