Harry turned the lock on his door as quietly as he could and was rewarded with a muted click. It was lunch time and the interns we deep in the bowels of the Rayburn building, swapping pudding cups and STDs. Harry stepped out of his shoes and Haggar slacks and slipped off his shirt. He was naked underneath, except for drooping socks, bunched around his ankles like dark blue foreskins. He carefully placed both pants and shirt on padded hangers and zipped them into a wardrobe travel case.
All 342 pages of the PATRIOT act sat on his desk, fresh from the copier, warm from its light and smelling of fresh toner. He sat in his overstuffed leather chair, a present from Nancy, and placed his feet on the edge of the desk and leaned way back. He groped for the stack of papers. He crumbled the first page tightly and inched it slowly into his gaping anus. With a sigh of pleasure his forced the page back out and it bounced away when it hit the floor. He crumbled, inserted, and defecated another, and then another.
By the time the interns got back from lunch, Harry was a hundred pages in and already thinking about which one of them would lick him clean when he was finished.
Semi-related, Google now has a selection to autofill "lesbian wrinkle death" into your searches. I'd congratulate you for a job _____ done, but I'm having difficulty coming up with the correct adverb; "wellness" is obviously not appropriate for someone who writes Congressional slashfic.
ReplyDelete"He was naked underneath, except for dropping socks, bunched around his ankles like dark blue foreskins."
ReplyDeleteThat's the best possible kind of prose, the sort of simile that restores one's enthusiasm for the English language.
The sycophants in D.C. are a special breed. To use a baseball analogy, they have a deep bench. Harry knew there would be a small argument over who got to lick is ass clean. They decided to draw straws.
ReplyDeleteToday was a special day. After all, Harry is a kind man and decided to eat a lot of corn the night before. Harry did this because he knew D.C. sycophants like to eat shit with a little bit of give.
/yeah I know...a long way from Sugar's prose.
Harry knew the professional class secondary ass cleaners would scrounge for the leftover pieces of shit and law, so he ate nothing but cheeseburgers with extra onions and jalapenos and un-popped popcorn.
ReplyDelete