November 2nd, 2008

monk john

Why I feel bad for Nancy Pfotenhauer

Yes, she's the daughter of Skeletor, but damn, she's got to be sick of her thrice-weekly floggings over the latest Palin fuckuppery...

<Phone Rings>

"Yallo, Snake Mountain, this is Skeletor"

"Nance? Hold on a sec" NANCY! PHONE!

"Who is it Dad?"

"One sec...may I ask who's calling? Thanks, hold on...It's Chris Matthews, he wants to interview you again."

"Is it about Palin?"

"Probably, you want me to ask?"

"No...let the illusion that I'm not going to have to deal with that bitch's complete lack of brains last long enough to get into the city. Tell him I'll be at my office in an hour. Love you!"

<You hear the sound of heels coming down the stairs, and the door to a garage open and close. Seconds later, the garage door opens and a car pulls out>

"You still there? Oh good, hey, she said to tell Chris she'll be at her office in an hour. I think she wants some alone time before jumping in the fray. Okay, you too, 'bye."

<Skeletor stairs at the phone for a minute. He frowns, turns on his heel, and walks into his study. Sitting at his desk, he pulls up Outlook on his computer, then picks up the phone on the desk and dials a number>

"Yeah, this is Skeletor, master of evil, gimme McCain."

"Honestly, I don't give a fuck how busy he is. I'm the fucking master of evil, and Nancy Pfotenhouer's father, and you can tell that gimpy son of a bitch he better talk to me or he'll be begging for his old room at the Hanoi Hilton!. Yeah, that's what I thought, you just run along and get him."

"John? Skeletor. Listen, I'm only going to say this once, so put the phone next to your fucking good ear. Nance just had to jack-ass into town to deal with yet another fuckup with that brainless MILF pretending to be a VP candidate. No, shut up and listen. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of watching her humiliate herself because you're a pandering dumbass who thinks with his dick. You haven't had a legitimate erection in decades, and even if you could still get it up on your own, we both know you ain't sticking it in that stepford wife funding your lame ass, so I think you're a little old for that shit. I'm tired of watching someone with more IQ points than you, Palin, and that muppet Lieberman put together debase herself in yet another vain attempt to make it sound like Palin's got the brains of your average rock. I'm tired of watching her flush her career down the crapper because of your fucking incompetence, and I swear to me, if that check she gets when this is all over isn't at least 8 figures to the left of the decimal point, I'm going to drag you out in the fucking Arizona desert and do shit to you that would make Torquemada fucking VOMIT! Are we crystal fucking clear on this? I'm tired of watching my Nance be turned into your whipping boy.

What's that? Oh please, spare me the bullshit. I'm the fucking master of evil, and a two-bit senator from god's waiting room is trying to feed me some fucking line about a cabinet position? We both know you're lying, don't insult my intelligence by doing it that badly.

So again, you stop making Nance do this bullshit, you pay her and well, or the reason you can't comb your hair will be because I've ripped off both of your fucking arms, AND SHOVED THEM UP YOUR FUCKING ASS!"

<Phone hangs up. Skeletor thinks a minute, and makes another call.>

"Hi, Betty? Yeah, this is Nancy's father. Hey, tell her that I'll be in the city later, and that I'm taking her to dinner at Tavern on the green. Could you get my usual table, and arrange for some good scotch? No, I don't even want to know what the stupid bitch said, it'll just upset me even more. Yeah, me too. Oh well, this will be over soon. Heh...yeah, not soon enough. Anyway, just make sure she gets the message. Thanks, you too. 'Bye"

<Oh come on, she does TOO look like Skeletor's daughter, and besides, you know she's got to take a fucking handful of valium to defend Palin's latest stupidities and not just start screaming incoherently.>