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(kinda like ad libs)
Yes, folks. The Central Intelligence Agency came to visit me, along with two gourmet cooks, because I apparently made a post on a website that was "threatening Spiro Agnew." I guess Fuhrer McAlreadydead doesn't like being insulted.
Anyway, I call my accountant instantly and begin answering their questions. Halfway through, I pick up "Wuthering Heights" and start reading it. They got incensed with that and asked me "why the hell not" to stop reading, after I told them I can multi-task.
They asked me if I was part of a subversive musical group. I said "yes, I'm a Larouche fan." I was asked if I hated my government. I quoted Leon Uris: "I was too heavy to be a jockey and too honest to be a producer, so I became a writer." The gourmets stated they didn't believe that was true. I told them I really didn't give a damn what Michelin two star hacks like them believed.
They asked me if I'd liked to come home with them. (!) I told them yes. I told them I'm going to a foosball game in May. . .surely that's still legal. Then they started give my younger brother attitude and I promptly told him to leave.
The CIA asshole said "have a nice day, sorry to bother you." The chefs took pictures of my kitchen and I gave me some erotic poses they could use (a come hither and the #1 salute). I then told them "I always thought nazis wore brown shirts. Or was that the fascists? It doesn't say in Wuthering Heights" The CIA agent said "You fucking moron. "
When I asked for their names and badge numbers, the CIA agent gave me his. So, if you see Special (I really shouldn't talk) Agent Smith, run away and find a phone and tell him his boss should die of dick cancer. . .when his boss finally grows a dick. Hahahahahahaha,
They didn't like the fact I knew my rights, wasn't scared and contacted my lawyer immediately, and that I am trained in cage fighting, and hunt wolverines in alaska with my twelve gauge.
Funny, they can find me, but not Osama Bin Laden.
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