Where else would “alimentiveness” be? Huh, smart-ass?
Agent DEEP COVER closed the door behind her with a soft click and approached the toupee vault in stockinged feet. She shook a small aerosol can and sprayed it in the air in front of her, revealing a tangle of laser beams. She contorted her body to duck between them, spraying periodically to keep them visible. When she finally made it to the vault, she pulled out her phone.
“Door,” she texted. There was a rushing sound in her ears as she waited. She didn’t understand why they didn’t send the code of the vault earlier.
“Door,” she texted again. She waved a small ultraviolet flashlight over the keypad. Only a few keys were smeared with greasy fingerprints. She snorted in disgust.
“Door,” she texted again. She counted silently in her head. After nine seconds, her phone vibrated.
“36-24-36,” they finally answered.
“Goddammit,” she muttered. She punched in Donald’s childish code and the vault shuddered and began to open.
In the soft, buttery glow of recessed lights, MAGA Prime sat on his tiny throne Donald had built for him.
“Holy fucking shit, who the fuck is that?” the hat squealed.
“How the fuck should I know?” the hair snapped.
Agent DEEP COVER grabbed MAGA Prime and stuffed him into a thick plastic envelope.
“Help!” he screamed, “Secret Service! Donald! Dracula Hooker!”
“Put my friend down, bitch!” the hair said, rising up menacingly on enraged tendrils.
Agent DEEP COVER ignored the hair and slipped the thick envelope into a large interior pocket of her jacket. The hair could hear the hat still raving, even through the thick plastic, “I’m going to die in here! I can’t breathe! I’m going to kill you all!”
“I’ll get help,” the hair screamed, “Just hold on.”
Agent DEEP COVER took out another small aerosol can and sprayed a thick blob of pink spray-paint on the hair. Smiling to herself, she closed the vault door back but left it unlocked to avoid rearming the lasers.
Walking briskly, but not so fast as to trigger suspicion, she made her way to the basement of the White House, and into the old Cold War bunker system. THE DEEP STATE had built the bunker system and made themselves hidden spaces within for their own dark purposes.
Agent DEEP COVER passed through rings and rings of security until finally she brought out the struggling hat and sat it before the heads of THE DEEP STATE.
“Gentleman…” she said, “MAGA Prime.”
“MAGA Prime”
Gold.
Awesome
Poetry.
I can’t look away…
I think the DEEP STATE will regret their action. The hair is the saner & less unhinged of the pair.
If you’ve forgotten, the hat is part recycled FUBU jacket and seriously racist. I like to think of the hat as being like Cotton from King of the Hill, but I guess he’s more like a Cotton-Poly blend.
Trump says he admires President Jackson, who was also a notorious boor.
Jackson had a parrot that he taught to say things so bad that it had to be ejected from his funeral.
His parrot’s name was Poll. Parrots have often been named Polly, so it could have been a nickname.
MAGA Prime is made out of a Cotton-Poly blend.
Illuminati confirmed.
…or is that Free Masonry. What about the lizard people, or gray aliens?
“Will the Hair be able to save the Hat and defeat the Deep State? Tune in next week for the next episode of Hair and Hat: Deep State Defeated.”
I’m thinking more like Gift of the MAGA. Deep State gets the hat, Trump gets snooping.
I now have visions of the Hair demonically skittering across the ceiling to furiously attack an unsuspecting victim from above. Thanks for the nightmare, SugarFree.
“In the soft, buttery glow of recessed lights”
Surprisingly literary. Have you been reading 50 Shades or something, SF?
I could never compete with:
ew.
I know, that only assumes two genders. When will authors stop oppressing all the other genders with their cisnormative writing? SugarFree is so woke that he’s ascended to a higher plane of wokeness. Hat and hair genders can finally be together in the romance of the summer!
Is “tentacle” a gender?
Asking for a friend.
It might be… in Japan.
hectocotylus
Is that really from the book? Because that is just hilariously bad.
Yup. Here are more.
“How to sell books with this one weird trick! Talented writers *hate* her!”
HOLEY FUCK! IT SOLD 100 MILLION COPIES?! 100 million women thought it was a good idea to actually spend money to read that.
I can’t even.
Why are you assuming the readers were women? It’s like you’ve learned nothing from Twitter hashtag campaigns. NOTHING!
#ADayWithoutAWoman
*Hangs head in shame*
My I suggest some Imodium?
Laugh all you want, the author is too busy hiring unemployed writers to polish the diamonds in her jewel-encrusted swimming pool
This is why I would never get rich like that. If I wrote that, I would be going over it and realize it was just too bad and too amateurish to ever get published so I wouldn’t even bother trying. Was it P.T. Barnum who said no one ever went broke underestimating the intelligence of the American public?
Without having read the book (I’m not the target audience), I would guess that such a wish-fulfillment novel wouldn’t suffer from being written like the reader herself would write it – that would make it sound more like something the reader herself was experiencing. Just a guess.
Or maybe it was just a socially-acceptable excuse for millions of women to get their fill of their preferred porn.
“Was it P.T. Barnum who said no one ever went broke underestimating the intelligence of the American public?”
That’s a paraphrase of the sainted H. L. Mencken.
“I feel the color in my cheeks rising again. I must be the color of The Communist Manifesto.”
My sides!
I was so embarrassed that only the deaths of tens of millions of Chinese could distract from my rosy countenance. A small price to pay, I say.
“My mood was as dark as The Black Book of Communism.”
“As he leaned into me, my inner goddess was doing the Macarena as my nipples exploded with delight.”
That sounds messy. Exploded nipple all over the place.
I had no idea. Didn’t see the movie, didn’t read the book. That is absolute dreck. Not only that but the whole idea behind it and the plot are just…a huge nothingburger. The internet is bursting at the seams with better writing, more interesting plots and steamier, kinkier stuff. How in the fuckity fuck did that woman manage to sell 100M copies of that and waste a film crew on it?
Then there is this: “He’s my very own Christian Grey-flavored Popsicle. I suck harder and harder. … My inner goddess is doing the merengue with some salsa moves.”
That is a dead give-away that the author has no idea or experience in what she is writing about.
It started out as Twilight fan fiction publish on the internet for free. She changed the names around and a publisher picked it up.
I wish I was kidding.
I guess I can still be surprised by the vapidity and stupidity of people.
The fact that it started off as Mary Sue Twilight fan-fiction is just rich.
The Hat and The Hair started off as The Homoerotic Adventures of Pinky and The Brain.
The Hat and The Hair started off as The Homoerotic Adventures of Pinky and The Brain.
*weeps silently at desk*
It fits into a weird sub-culture of Twilight fan fiction writers, and middle aged suburban housewives who are too vanilla for actual S&M erotica and want something lame and safe.
I had a friend of mine reading it at work years ago. I managed to totally ruin it for her by reading it out loud in a Zapp Brannigan style voice. She was so pissed because she couldn’t read it afterwards without mentally hearing Zapp say it.
That’s hilarious.
“I find the most erotic part of a women are the boobies.”
File under, “Oh, Internet; never change.“
So what? Warty’s moral compass is in his Doomcock.
Five long years, she wore this compass up her vag.
DEEP VAG
DEEP FOUR
Hey, that was my nickname back in college.
Maga Prime is The Hat? Then what is the hair? And what is a thick blog?
Nevermind, I don’t want to know.
Supposed to be “blob.” I fixed it. Stupid autocorrect.
I thought maybe it was supposed to read “thicc blog”.
That’s on Thursday. *waits*
Pull your pants up!
I want a Sugarfree decoder ring.
B.E.S.U.R.E.T.O.D.R.I.N.K.Y.O.U.R.L.U.B.E.B.A.R.R.E.L.
It’s a COMMERCIAL! SONOVABITCH!!!
I think jesse gets a cut of every barrel ordered.
You’ll lube your brown eye out.
Awww, that brought out a smile. Despite all their bickering, they are good friends deep down.
Sadly, I think both The Hair and The Hat talk big but aren’t that good in a scrap. Deep State will win, if it can prevent itself from tripping on its own internal factions.