Mister President

The day after, my head was bouncing. That wife of mine came home late night and started nagging on my head now. After some aspirins and left-overs in some champaign-bottles I decided nothing was working, I needed another sniff. That one helped and I entered the dining room for my breakfast. Bridget was the first one with a questions: daddy, what is sex? For these questions I was always prepared so I explained all about it. Sex is something two people who love each other do. Cindy wouldn't approve if I told her the truth. Our daughter is still to young to know that it's in most cases just the opposite. That men do it with every female being with good looks. Also I had to shut up about the sex last night, with two other females, one of which I forgot her name already, and Sarah, the nicest fuck. Sarah by the way has a daughter the same age as Bridget, but she does know what sex is.

The coke started working really good, and after answering this first questions I could tell the family the good news. Kids and wife, daddy is going for president of the united states. This was my first trial to come up with a nice speech at the family-table. In the future, I was going to decide where bombs where dropped, in which country little children would stitch our shoes an footballs, and who is going to be rich. To end the speech I thanked God, for blessing only our part of the world and let the rest either work or die for us.

Finally it was time to get some food down my throat. The eggs and bacon Cindy made had become cold. Damn. Out of frustration I threw the frying pan in Cindy's direction. This was obviously the will of God, not my mistake that she was laying down here with blood coming out of her head but still living. Nivedita spooked throug mine again, the only difference here was that this one was still breathing. Probably she was gonna make it through the day and will be laying back in my bed this evening. Nivedita had other gods, but our God is seriously working on my nerves now. Why could she live while Nivedita had to die? Time for a porn-movie. My friend George left the latest one with me yesterday: Nailin' Palin.

This time a little poem and a song about the real presidential elections:

Sarah

After this heavy orgy, it became time to talk about serious business. George wiped out the last traces of cocaine from his nose while pulling up his pants. They needed to find a solution for niggers trying to become president.

A few joints later they came up with the solution: John should go for president. He was the most experienced and white man the house could have. He ate Vietnamese people alive in his youth so a black nigger couldn't be a problem at all.

It became late and George advised John to end the party with Sarah, the girl he shagged before this evening. You should try her out: Alaskan girls are not as cold as you would think. No, she's really hot, George said.

The old man and future president of our great United States had the time of his life. She was nothing compared to Nivedita, but it was a nice shag.

This week no youtube-movie, but a little game: http://www.palinaspresident.us/

Republican Party

Some time ago, I promised my kids a swimming pool. This was the ideal solution to dump Nivedita in the concrete. My wife, apparently not as stupid as she looks warned me for this. After lots of blahblahblah about the structure of the concrete being more instable and being sure the body would be discovered someday, her solution was not bad. Cindy suggested installing an old second hand oil-fired pool heater. These old oil-heaters have a small front door where stuff can be put in, stuff like the body in a carpet roll we were hiding in our kitchen. Nivedita, being a Hindu would have wanted it this way. Hindu's do not want to be buried but they want to burn. With an old oil-burner, we would off course consume more fuel and even help the climate and support global warming. Everyone was very happy, we were such a patriotic family.

After living for a week with immigrants in our backyard digging the pool, and even one time two latino's coming into our house to connect the pool heater, it was finally ready. Time to organize a party. The oil heater burned, Nivedita was inserted and some gallons of fuel later the pool was ready for the guests.

John was a tremendous party-organizer. When you organize a party, you need a clown. No cheap Ronny McDonald or the village idiot, but his good friend, the idiot of the United States George dropped by. After complaining that there were no pretzels he started drinking a lot, and finally became comfortable. A mixture of some of the most expensive wines and Georgies favorite beer Budweiser did the trick. Everyone except from his wife Laura had a good laugh when George stuck a dildo in the shape of an atomic bomb up his ass.

John however wouldn't just stop here to get a party started. Some days before his friends from the intelligence services were ordered to disturb a little transport coming from Columbia, so it didn't took long before we forgot about the stars and stripes were drawn onto the tables. Everyone was so excited with the enormous loads of cocaine John had provided, and the party people got soon really stoned. It didn't take long before everyone was around or in the pool getting to know each other better. Everyone, except Laura. She helped herself out with George's atomic bomb shaped dildo.

Fair Trade

My Legal Council left the door. For my sexless future he had no advice but in order to settle the problem with my death Indian housekeeper and whore we found a solution. Getting her parents to a trial was no option since they did not have any money to settle the problem of my dirty carpet. For the years she lived here for free, I could not get any reimbursement either. The whole situation sucked, and worse of all: she was still laying here, naked and death.

We ended with a solution that should fit both parties. The farm her parents owned in Gujarat became mine, and Nivedita's parent's could live there and work the land for as long as they were fit enough. My part would be the money they made selling their stuff. It's called Fair Trade I think.

Nivedita

My cellphone played the National Anthem, announcing my friend George. He sounded furious, and raged for about an hour on the phone. Can you come to your conclusions, George, I asked. I need to shit really hard now, and the battery of my phone is almost empty.
Ok, ok John. Sorry to say this, but there's a nigger going for presidency of our United States of America! A nigge... -bleep-...

Not completely conscious I repeated George's last words in my mind. A nigger for president. One of these people we brought into this great country to serve us, not the opposite. Shit, I forgot to go to the toilet and messed my pants.

Now I understood why George was shouting for so long on the phone, he could not understand. The White House is called White House for something. It symbolizes the great power of white people. Black people do not belong in there. Something has to be done to stop this, but I needed more information.

Off course Nivedita should know more about this issue. She is not completely black, but dark enough to be involved in this complot, were dark people try to take over the United States in their advance. I decided to use some approved interrogation techniques learnt in Vietnam to question her. Not much came out of her. First some vomit, then a name: Barack, followed by lots of blood.

The Indian slave did not move anymore. At least I spared this great country from Nivedita going for president, but we still had the black problem. And I was going to spend some time without sex.

Cindy

After a long sleep with the most pleasant dreams, the nightmare began. John, John, wake up! Meu, Nivedita, Nivedita was what I whispered. I opened my eyes, and what I saw was something completely different. Years ago it was a pleasure to wake up next to her, but since the last couple of decades Cindy's face became the last thing I wanted to see in the morning.

As so many times now the questioning began. Why were you whispering “Nivedita”? Why John, why? After grasping my teeth and putting it in my mouth, I already had my first lie for the day put together.

One of my talents, lying. My brain was something that never developed too well, probably caused by the republican bedtime-story's my mom used to tell. Long time ago I was even so stupid to take a job as kamikaze-pilot for the American Establishment, in Vietnam. Luckily my stupidity was so overwhelming, I did not manage to take my airplane of the ground, this saved my life. Being smart is not always helping, have a look at our current president. But lying was brought into me thanks to the republican propaganda which was always at hand in our house.

After telling my wife that I was having a nightmare because Nivedita almost made a mistake yesterday by using the wrong polish for my shoes, Cindy took the lie and left me alone... for a while a least.

As we are talking about my nightmare, it was not over yet. That old women I just woke up with, took action herself now. Nivedita survived, but had several broken ribs and her face was completely covered with blood. Too ugly to have sex with, maybe it's time to find a second housekeeper for solving these issues.

Home Sweet Home

He was laying down on his couch, after a busy day. In front of him the big plasma-tv set where the man could watch the business channels in HD quality, so at least John was enjoying the bad numbers and which of his shares had dropped today. At the left side of his television set was his cleaning lady, naked, polishing his shoes.

With one eye on the television and the other on her, he was enjoying this evening. She just had a great life, and John was proud that he could offer such a good job to a woman of her standings. Living for free in one of his castels, three meals a day. The only service in return asked was to keep the house tidy and walking around naked. Only on rare occasions John asked for an extra service. Mostly after he met a nice secretary of one of his colleagues businessmen which turned him down. No, Nivedita, once imported from India, had a great life. Not like John, who lost more than a million euro's on the stock market today.

The old Vietnam-soldier became tired, and zapped to another adult channel. Nivedita knew that this meant he acquired some assistance. It took a while but he came. The evening ended great for this big man, and he could enjoy the empty king-size bed while his wife was away with her friends. Nivedita went to the basement and had a nice rest in the dirty laundry.

New blog started

This blog, which may appear to be a political blog, just isn't.
It's nothing more than a book project I had on stake since a long time, but never finished. The people in the story are all imaginary people, and the stories are all fiction. Names that seem to correspond to real persons (main character where the story will start is John), and in the story his full name is not John McCain.
(I haven't come up with a surname for him yet)

The story will start soon and a new chapter will be posted biweekly.