“What are Trump’s plans?
“Who were Trump’s contacts in the Russian government?”
“Who hacked Podesta?”
“Deep dish or thin crust?”
They shined bright lights down on the hat and played “You Can Call Me Al” at ear-ripping volume for an hour to soften him up, before dousing him with a bucket of icy water. When he serenely floated off the table on the wave of water, he was tackled and beaten for trying to escape. The hat suffered all this with a stoic grace and only a slight rumpling.
They sent in a good cop/bad cop pair. The bad cop talked about the hat getting raped in prison. The good cop that offered the hat a cigarette and a bottle of water. The hat ignored the threats and the small kindnesses. The bad cop slammed his hand down on the table. The good cop slapped the cigarette away and dumped the water on the floor. Curse words drifted into the room over a crackling intercom.
“Drown it in a filthy toilet.”
“Hook it up to a car battery.”
“Does it have testicles? I have pliers! Freeze it. Burn it. Bring in acid.”
“Nothing disfiguring!”
A drooling retard from Forestry was brought in and the hat was roughly jammed on his misshapen head over and over again, his elastic band stretched to the breaking point, his most intimate concavity repeatedly violated. And still the hat gathered his scraps of remaining dignity and sat on the table where they placed him, mute and inscrutable.
The hat was thrown into a filthy breakroom microwave and warned he would receive a lethal dose of radiation if he didn’t talk. The hat was shown a twenty-minute industrial films of hats being fed into a shredder, a horror film of ripped bills and hanging entrails of brim and visor. The hat was kicked for thirty minutes by men with clean shoes and warped minds, who made jokes about the hat shitting out his splintered bones over the next week.
“What if it is just a hat?”
“Impossible.”
“We have to consider it.”
“Impossible!”
The hat was given an intrabillious injection, scopolamine and cocaine, and subjected to strobe lights and a soundtrack of Donald’s voice a twice-speed playback, a fake speech by Donald cobbled together from audio clips, Donald’s voice denounced the hat in stilted dialogue, Donald’s voice said the hat was nothing, nothing but a hat, only a hat. The hat remained loyal and silent.
After six hours of interrogation, THE DEEP STATE had gotten nothing from MAGA Prime. Agent DEEP COVER was called in and given the hat.
“Return MAGA Prime to the vault. Trump can never know it was missing,” the Grand Vizier ordered.
As Agent DEEP COVER opened the vault, she saw that the hair, still clumpy with pink paint, was on the floor. She hadn’t told them about her act of vandalism. She picked up the hair and studied at the paint. Trump would know that someone had been in the vault, that his security had been compromised. Her mission was over. She would have to leave the White House, under the usual cloud of disgrace, and hope that she could disappear.
She unwrapped the hat and sat it on its little throne and put the hair back on its gold bust and closed the vault behind her.
“Speak to me, man,” the hair said quietly, “What happened?”
“They… did things.”
“What sort of things?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I tried to come for you,” the hair said, “The vault door…”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I’ve almost broken the paint down.”
“Good,” the hat said, “I just want to go to sleep.”
But in the cold pre-dawn hours that followed, the hat couldn’t sleep and the hair heard him weeping.
“his elastic band stretched to the breaking point, his most intimate concavity repeatedly violated”
THIS. IS. SUGARFREE!
That was indeed some awesome prose. BRAVO!
Best one yet.
Many doubted you SF, but I always knew you were slowly building up to a crescendo of depravity. At this site you finally have the space to carefully construct your literature on your own terms and at your own pace.
Bravo.
“Bravo”, or “God Have Mercy Upon Us”?
Admit it, you’ve missed the depravity too.
Both.
Band name, yadda, yadda.
It’s an esp. great band name given “crescendo” is a musical term. I love it.
I still think “Big Boss Fight” would be a great band name.
Crescendo of Depravity is the debut album by the band MAGA Prime.
“What if it is just a hat?”
The seed of doubt is planted, fantastic!
There must have been some magic in that old red hat they found
For when AntiFA saw it there, fists and sticks began to pound
Oh, Berkeley, the campus, was violent as it could be
and the children say “It is my safe space”
and we’ll burn it if we please.
I was totally waiting for Hat to reply “We are LEGION” and laugh demonically.
Nice.
I assume the next entry will be about MAGA Prime’s new triggers.
Episode #43 – Hair’s Revenge!
MAGA: Grand Vizier.
GV: Yeah.
MAGA: Did you see the sunrise this morning?
GV: Yes. Why?
I’m pretty fuckin’ far from OK.
“I’m gonna call a couple of hard pipe hitting golf visors, who will go to work on the ‘carts here with boats and honey. I ain’t done with them by a long shot. You hear me NSA? I’m going to go Persian on yo asses.”
‘crats not ‘carts.
YESSSSSSSS!!!!!!!
Maybe it was one too many PBS fundraisers as a kid, but I like the Graceland album.
Oh, well done. Well done indeed. The Hat has had more character development than most characters in novels, much less Hollywood movies.
Korean girls try New York, Chicago (deep-dish), Detroit Style Pizzas
Guess which one won.
I admit. The only reason I clicked that was because of “Korean girls”
Me too Mike.
They are the most fetching of the oriental races.
Does Detroit style pizza have crack in it or something?
Yeah, I’ve never even heard of Detroit Style pizza. It looked some where in between NY and Chicago?
…and I don’t mean geographically. Smart-asses
It looked like this.
They obviously don’t know any better.
Wait, what? I loved pizza in Korea. Cheese there is awful though.
How can you have a good pizza with awful cheese?
I enjoyed their quirky topping selections and use of Louisiana-style hot sauce instead of pepper flakes.
And deep dish is not pizza. This is kind of like saying “which style of fried chicken do you like better, traditional southern fried, or French style Coq au Vin?”
The first non-owner comment was awesome.
“Dammit, now I’m craving Korean girls.
PIZZA! I MEANT PIZZA!
Dammit…”
SugarFree gets his inspiration from Mt. Parnassus.
SugarFree gets his inspiration from
Mt. Parnassusbutt-chugging jenkem.I climaxed.
That’s even more disturbing than usual, which is saying something.
I’m dying to find out who Agent DEEP COVER is. Kellyanne? Melania? I’m thinking maybe Ivanka, since she apparently keeps convincing Trump to do lefty shit like parental leave?
I guess this is why lefty feminists hate her.
Oh, I can’t wait to read this to the wife tonight to get her in the mood. She’s begun to look forward to them now.