Unicorn Gerbils Leprechaun - Film @ 11 P.M.Submitted by DaBeast at 2015-07-23 03:07:26 EDT
Rating: 2.0 on 2 ratings (2 reviews) (Review this item) (V)
WASHINGTON, D.C. 5:01pm EST - Lindsay Brunhilde reporting
In a stunning move, the city of Washington, D.C. has officially made the Code Duello legal. For more information on the Code Duello, please visit PBS.org...
"What do ya mean, a challenge?" The veins throbbed at the sides of his eyes and they bulged grotesquely. His skin got splotchy pale/pink/red but the steam hadn't started coming out of his ears. Yet.
The scrawny intern took a few steps away and looked down at the floor. "According to the document, the claim is dishonour."
"I ain't dishonoured nobody! Who says I dishonoured them? Nobody says that!" His nostrils flared and he skin began to shade over into a brickish pink.
The intern shuffled his ill-fitting suit slightly closer and dropped a thin sheaf of documents onto the desk. "It's all in there, sir." Quick, he scuttled back again.
He looked down and grabbed the papers, started reading.
The intern took the opportunity and fled the office. As he walked past the secretary, he looked at her, widened his eyes, and stage-whispered, "The tribble is red! I repeat, the tribble is RED!" He did not wait for a response and sped away to get lost in the building.
She closed her eyes. Great. Skinny little dipshit runs in, pisses him off, and runs away. And who cleans it up?
The yell shook the walls as he called her name.
She sighed. "Me, that's who," she muttered, stood up, grabbed her tablet, and moved smoothly into the office. "You called, sir?" her voice was even and her face clear.
"What the hell is this shit?" He shook the papers and threw them at her.
She grabbed them, folded them into her chest and tucked the tablet over them. "They are a legal document, sir." She really had to fight that contrary streak of hers better but, damn, sometimes, it was so hard to fight that urge.
He looked at her for a moment. The veins bulged more strongly, especially in the eyes, and his skin took on a purple tinge at the edges and he stayed that way for about ten seconds. Then he released the air he'd built up and his color started back toward normal. He turned away, moved behind his desk and settled into the chair. The tribble edged back toward strawberry.
She sighed and pulled the document forth but didn't look at it. She didn't need to. She'd read it fifteen minutes before the scrawny intern got there and snatched it out of her hands.
"According to this document, you have..." she did glance at the document then, to make sure she got the wording right, "and I quote, 'besmirched the honour of my fair and glorious nation and I demand satisfaction for this affront according to the rules of the Code Duello'..." she scanned another few paragraphs, "yadda, yadda, you have brought shame and disgrace on the United States of America with your egregious slander and falsehoods, yadda, yadda, yadda..." she scanned some more, "...and like that." She paused a beat, realized something, "Sir."
He snorted, derision and disbelief in the sound. "Who'd be fool enough to challenge me? I'll wipe the walls with anybody that dares."
She said nothing.
He looked at her, then, and maybe for the first time, he really saw her. "Who sent that?"
Again, she said nothing.
He frowned and his skin began to shade darker again. "Give me the name."
"Perhaps, you should read the document, sir..." she held it out to him.
He ignored it. "What's the name, girl?"
What? Her eyes got rounder. Then they narrowed.
"I really think you should read the document, sir." She shook the papers at him.
He slapped the papers away and yelled, "Give me the goddamned name!"
"John Stewart, sir."
He sat back quickly. "What?"
She threw the document onto his desk. "John Stewart, sir. The comedian. That guy with the hair."
"No, no way, this can't..." he grabbed at the papers and actually started reading them this time. After a few seconds, he looked up at her.
She took a few steps back.
He looked panicked, eyes wide and veiny, spittle on his lips. "But... he's a comedian! He should be one of the ones that GETS it! He can't... there's no way... this is a joke, right? It's a joke!" He suddenly relaxed and threw the papers onto the desk and they skidded off into a small garbage can.
She looked at the papers. "Sir... he's asking for you to name your second and there's a time limit."
"Who cares? It's a joke and it's a bad one. No way," he leaned forward and jabbed his forefinger at her, "no way you can tell me he doesn't get the joke. No, that guy GETS it. And this is his joke one up. Well, let me tell you, it's in bad taste and I ain't playing that game. That game's for losers."
She stood there, silent.
He thought about it a moment, then looked back at her. "Out of curiosity, who's his second?"
"Barack Obama, sir. He also lists a third..."
He blinked for a moment. "A third..?
"According to the document, if Barack Obama is indisposed and unable to act as his second, the actor known as Chris Evans has offered to don his suit and back him up."
He blinked again.
So, she elaborated. "Captain America is his third, sir."
Quickly, before he could reply, she turned and left the office.
She wondered if it were too late to get a bet in with an illegal bookie...