Milldefort Penitentiary, Illinois
This is the chronicles of Clinton Skippy, convicted of smuggling Ukrainian Anthracite into Illinois by the Milldeforte Police. One could say that I am evil, seeing that I did smuggle sixty pounds of illegal Ukrainian anthracite into my own little insurance company so I could sell to the master purveyors, but you see, it was extremely legal from my point of view. Alright, I was paying them in the alley behind a K-Mart, but I say that I cannot have corporate responsibility because America’s schools failed to teach the “corporate responsibility” class.
Also I know that I am meta and like, aware of my super cool literariness, so seeing that I am being ‘pushed’ around by this Frankel kid just gives me more reasons to keep me out of the federal pen, but there are too many stupid Frankel G-Men.
Anthracite is a difficult business, and money is a simple business, and as an American I say that our capitalism protects us from the dangers of the Socialist Moon-men, while pushing us closer to the society of the Hetti Green.
Yeah, America it is time to look into the case of your job-creators, just pretend that is me, and give me a third chance. This was all a mistake, this is what happened!
AboutMoose Insurance, Illinois
The headquarters of my cosy little company, AboutMoose, named after the original fur reimbursement company in the woodlands four hundred years ago. I got alerted about Ukraine after a confidential tip-off by one I. Boesky; I have never been able to get his identity but he is sure helpful.
The time is 11:42 AM, the place is, well, somewhere in Illinois. I got the call.
“Hey, Claudy. It’s the I.” Said the I.
“Yo, the I. Any new corrupt things to have me do?” Said I.
“As a matter of fact I have, dude. Any news about Eastern Europe?” Said the I.
“Well, Greece owes Germany more than a billion dollars.” Said I.
“More?” Said the I.
“Um, Putin’s imprisoning the Oligarches.” Said I.
“Any more?” Said the I.
“Ukraine still has a lot of Anthracite that can be smuggled into the US.” Said I.
“Yes, how did you know about that?” Said the I.
“Frankel kid.” Said I.
“It’s awesome being meta.” Said the I.
“Yep, so you want me to get anthracite?” Said I.
“Isn’t anthracite that terrible soda?”
“No, that’s coke, another form of coal. This could be a major business deal.”
“I know that, but where do I get it?”
“That is for you to find out, young padawan. I gotta run, Carter just walked in.”
He hung up.
AboutMoose Insurance, Illinois
I looked over some files about the trade of anthracite in Ukraine. Being in the top 1% means you get access to all these documents about the world’s economy that, yes, are extremely boring, but can come in handy when stealing fuels. But then my conscience came up with the question of morals, should I smuggle coal into America? I asked Rev. Holyhalo.
“Reverend, should I do it?”
That meeting was over quick, but this excursion was for the good of my purse, the most sacred thing to human society, I presume. Ethics are the question, another problem seeing as there is no ethics classes in the average American public school. There were in mine, but I choose to say that one should look at the majority and lead on from there.
Ukraine does have a lot of coal; their children must be especially bad. I thought that it would be easy to find a purveyor of Ukrainian coal. My plan was to smuggle the coal into my company’s headquarters, and sell it to all the American residential heating companies except for Heat-Up-That-Night-Politically, which I had a row over loans to, and coincidentally manages the White House, Pentagon, Sean Penn’s house. I went back to some files on Ukrainian purveyors of anthracite and nothing else, I regret that now because I should have loaded up on oil futures. As a young man I travelled from Kiev to Lviv and I found a respectful merchant who said he would keep my secret, one Viktor Shwetz.
Well, old Viky met me on a radio frequency and realized that I was wrong on a count, he was really 16.
“Hey, man. This is Viktor Shwetz.” said the V.
“Hey, Viktor, man. This is Clinton Skippy, I called about some anthracite.” said I.
“What makes you think I have anthracite?” said the V.
“Um, I don’t know. I was told by World Domination Tech, the most infamous documentation wiki in the universe. Do you?” said I.
“My partner told me about some Non-Ukrainian gangster who wanted some fossil fuels. Well my friend, when I registered with World Domination I knew it would me business.” said the V.
“Great. But in the present.” said I.
“Right, I am sending them now. In the meantime, are you interesting in purchasing a “Ronco’s Fun-Fun Chemistry Kit” equipped with real Lithium and Uranium cubes that are 100% reusable for your little child.
“Sorry, no kids.”
“Damn, I’ll never sell these.”
He was true to his word and the next day he called me to tell me that the coal was ready and packed up in neat cardboard boxes.
My employees grouped in the mission plane’s back room as we sped to Europe.
“Sir, I have come up with a plan and have stored it in RepublicanDocumentBank.com.” said Mr. Bush.
“Excellent, Jeb. OK, I don’t really know how to talk to these people.” said I.
“You don’t have to, just take the package and one of us will say thanks,” said Mr. Smugleé.
“No, that would be an invitation for the police to show up.”
“How do not attract suspicion?” said Freezeghast the Economic.
“OK, we need reception party.”
“We have to organize this social evening.”
?????????? ?????????? ??????? ?????????, Lviv
We rented out the building christened “?????????? ??????? ??? ??????? ?????????”(exciting nighttime house of fun.) Mr. Smuglee and Freezeghast the Economic got started immediately.
“Well, police never suspect kittens, so one theme we could have is kittens.” said Freezeghast the Economic.
“But if we openly invite them to come in and check us out, that would be bad.”
“Yes, I know, we have a formal ball, and the security is dressed like kittens.”
“Cool, who do we invite?”
“We need a drunk dude to keep things interesting, a local religious leader, a suave tycoon, insane instrumentalist for music, and a dangerous person. My vast experience says we will need five more poor folks to keep talk up.”
“I’m looking at , Old Man Stan the Pious, James Bond, Calista Gingrich, and Nancy Pelosi.”
“Good, call them up.”
The next hour they spent calling them up, and since these celebrities had nothing better to do with their time, they agreed to come.
“I don’t trust these Ukrainian gangsters. I think their gonna betray us to the police.” said I. “Mr Freezeghast, you and Mr Smugleé will accompany me to the party. Mr Bush, ready the Messiah-Exodus Beam Blaster.
“Gasp!” said Mr Freezeghast.
“Gasp!” said Mr Smugleé.
“Gasp!” said Mr Bush.
“Not the Messiah-Exodus Beam Blaster.” said Mr Freezeghast.
“Yes.” said I. “Ready it at once.”
“But sir, you shall, you shall kill Old Man Stan the Pious.”
“Sir, he will curse us with “The Curse of the Dwarven Nail Sponge Ghosts.” said Mr Bush.
“We need to get him out then, Mr Smugleé you shall delay him, offer him a high class business opportunity. Get him to except some free stock to some aspect of Ronco, perhaps something with chemistry, and something to do with kids. I know! Give him thirty percent of “Ronco’s Fun-Fun Chemistry Kit” equiped with real Lithium and Urainium cubes that are 100% reusable for your little child.”
“Good show, yes. I think that will do nicely.”
“All right, ready the Messiah Exodus Beam Blaster.”
“We will never pull this off, Jeb. We need one more man to make sure nothing goes wrong.” said Freezeghast.
“Yes, someone who is incredibly smart and agile. Someone who is strong handsome and brave. I’m talking Yaakov Fronkeel.”
“Yes, the Ukrainian arch-enemy of the evil Jacob Frankel, except that he looks a lot like him.”
“Yes, we need him to keep the guests not knowing that they are to be killed by the fearsome Messiah Exodus Beam Blaster.”
“OK, you call him.”
“Hello, Mr. Fronkeel. This is Freezeghast the Economic.”
“Hi, I’m calling about a possible business opportunity.”
“What is it?”
“We want you to keep some people at a party unnerved while we bomb them. Naturally you would escape out the bathroom window just in time.”
“Great, when do I start?”
“Now, come to Lviv.”
Next morning, a man arrived at the docked plane belonging to his new employers. Upon entering he was escorted by Mr. Smugleé.
“So, you work for the CIA?”
“For a few summers. I retired from that business to track down and kill Jacob Frankel. Eventually, after I was banned from Canada and sections of Libya, I realized I needed money to keep by business enterprises up. I went into mercenary work for Ahmadinejad.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
“Yes, I do. I learned that when I was accompanying him to a tavern, and he got so distraught when he found they had a lack of Shirley Temples he ordered the building burned to the ground and all employees limbs removed and then drowned.”
“Interesting, I didn’t know
“Well, they keep to themselves. They all live in Gnao, in the Pacific. They used to live all over Polynesia, but most of them got killed off by ALS.”
“So you’re peddling American secrets?”
“You know, sure.”
They turned and entered the conference room.
“Welcome to my hall, Mr Fronkeel.” said I.
“Thanks twenty seven million sir.”
“Have you got a look at out cargo yet?”
“I saw a couple of boxes.”
“Lets talk shop.”
“Good idea. I brought you here to have you spice up a party.”
“Piece of cake.”
“That’s not all. We suspect Jacob Frankel will be there.”
“Hmmm. I’ll need lots and lots of dough.”
“And I’ll need access to lots and lots of long range, powerful, fast firing, self reloading Chinese assault rifles.”
“Um, we only have Bolivian.”
“Then I will do what I can.”
“May I see my quarters.”
Yakov walked out of the room accompanied again by Mr. Smugleé.
Yakov entered his quarters and, once getting rid of Mr. Smugleé, proceeded to emptying his suitcase. Out he pulled a specially developed Machine Pistol and some extra ammunition. He stored it under his pillow. No matter, Jacob would kill them.
The party started when the townspeople mingled in while the Americans waited by the minibar.
“I am worried about the possibility of Jacob Frankel showing up.” said I.
“I see. I shall alert the Mission Plane to get the Messiah Exodus Beam Blaster ready.” said Mr. Smugleé.
He turned and spoke into a cellular phone.
“Get it ready.” he said.
Yaakov Fronkeel came up to them.
“Sir, I think he’s here.”
“Crap. Have Mr. Freezeghast meet me in the back room.”
“He’s here.” I said.
“What do we do?” said Mr. Freezeghast.
“We got to get the coal on the plane and then blast the building.”
“What about Old Man Stan the Pious?”
“He doesn’t matter, we can live with sponge ghosts.”
“Quickly, get these boxes of coal onto the plane.”
They moved fast and got themselves on the plane with the coal.
“Well it was nice being in Ukraine.” said Mr. Freezeghast.
The Blaster fired. A crimson streak of fire flew across the sky, alighting the heavens. So bright it shown, like something out of a piece of fiction. It collided with the building in a billowing rower of sparks. and obliterated the party.
“Jeb, speed up so we don’t get caught by the sponge ghosts.”
“Well, we’re in the clear.” I said.
“Sir, there’s a stealth plane following us.” said Freezeghast.
“Whose?” said I.
“Frankel’s.” said Mr. Smugleé.
“Yaakov! Yaakov!”said I.
“He’s not here.” said Mr. Smugleé.
“Sir, I think they are the same person!”
“Damn, I never suspected.” said I.
“Sir, how did you meet Jacob Frankel?”
“It happened a long time ago, my friend.” said I.
“While in my 16th year of life I got hired to do PR for Senator Curry Upta. My first job was to battle the people who claimed she was corrupt. I met with one Jacob Frankel. He pushed me to the floor and attempted to kill Miss Upta. I knew at once he was a bad apple. It was my duty as a citizen of America to stop him. I followed him after he was let out from jail. I saw him enter a small ship with two other guys. I stowed away on board. It soon became evident that they were plotting to get a large amount of dust circulating around Washington DC, thus leading to widespread allergies and ultimately for them, the ones that control the dust, world domination. I managed to destroy all of the dust, forcing him to spend the next ten years building it up. He probably is about to drop on Washington soon.”
“Sir, the MEBB is ready!”
“Excellant! Fire it at the enemy. They won’t know what hit them!”
It was fired. A crimson bolt shot acros the sky.
The enemy was exploded.
But then the cops showed up.