You know, son, the last !@#$ time I was in prison for any appreciable length of time, it was back in !@#$ing Korea, all those !@#$ years ago.
The !@#$ commies had me locked down in a POW camp, and chained up with these special Chinese manacles that kept me from using my !@#$ing powers. And, as I didn't have this shiny little beauty of an eye in my noggin, then, I was pretty well !@#$ed.
Or so they !@#$ing thought, which shows you what your average stupid-!@#$ commie !@#$ knows.
Truth was, I could have broken the !@#$ out of those power-dampeners at any time. I had the know-how, the skills, and an ace up my sleeve that I'm still not !@#$ing allowed to talk about. But I had my orders, which said that I had to stay there until I could ascertain what the Chinese and Soviets were up to.
And you know why orders are !@#$ing orders, son? Because you don't have to !@#$ing like them, but you gotta !@$#ing do them.
So I sat still, played helpless, and watched while terrible things happened all around me. I saw good American GIs and Koreans get starved, beaten, and shot. I saw Strategic Talents get tortured to death, just inches away from my !@#$ eyes.
!@#$, son. I saw ten men raping a South Korean fighter with nightsticks until his intestines fell out of his !@#$hole like bloody !@#$ sausage, just to make the other South Korean prisoners more compliant.
And I watched this, knowing that I could have !@#$ing saved them. But if I did I'd have blown the mission open like a monkey in a barrel of !@#$ing dynamite who's crammed a book of matches up his !@#$.
So I just sat there and watched, manacled by orders stronger than any chain their commie science buddies could have come up with. And I kept my eyes and ears open, even though I did not want to see. And only when I had the information that I'd come for, courtesy of The Dragon's presence in their camp, did I finally !@#$ing shake off those !@#$ chains and get some payback.
Oh, did I ever get some !@#$ payback. I hear the North Koreans still whisper about the Night of SPYGOD, just in case I ever make it North of Seoul, again. Something about fists and guns and fire and the honest power of American revenge.
(And how !@#$ hard it is to run away with a lit nightstick up your !@#$ing !@#$...)
Anyway, that !@#$ed me up something severe for quite a while, sitting there and watching all that without being able to do anything. Thankfully, General MacArthur understood, and graciously set my !@#$ straight, courtesy of my first ever skull-!@#$ing. And I know that makoli house still remembers me.
After that, I kind of associated prison stays as either a temporary setback, or an opportunity to get intel. But I never, ever let myself get !@#$ing maneuvered into a situation where I'd have to watch my friends die and do nothing. Never ever again, son. Never !@#$ing ever.
Which is why I'm not feeling very !@#$ happy to be sitting here, in this nice apartment the city of Neo York City has thoughtfully given the TU to cage me in, along with my boyfriend and my cat, prior to my trial for crimes against Humanity.
That's right, son. TU. As in Terre Unifiee. As in the !@#$ing French, who didn't even have any !@#$ skin in the game while their friends and neighbors fought and bled, and then walked out of the !@#$ end of the Reclamation War with a ton of stuff and strategic talents.
And then they all said "Bon !@#$ing jour, mes amis. Let us tell you how to run things, now."
Okay, okay. No. It didn't exactly happen like that. But it's !@#$ near close enough for !@#$ing government work.
See, all those years we were laughing at Direction Noir and their pathological do-nothing ways, it turns out those horse-chewing !@#$ers were playing it smart. They had a doomsday plan all ready to go, ever since the !@#$ 60's. They horded and they tweaked it and they waited, and, most !@#$ing important of all, they kept their !@#$ mouths shut,
And now, here they are, and they're in charge, and it's like !@#$ing Esperanto all over again.
And it's not like they're doing a bad !@#$ing job of it, either, son. That's what really sucks about this. If they'd been cruel or conquering, or even somewhat graft-handed, then I could justify sneaking out of this well-heeled !@#$hole and kicking their pasty white !@#$es back to Paris and shoving fresh baguettes where la soleil does not !@#$ing shine.
But it's not like that at all. They've actually done a good job under the circumstances. Things are better than they were two months ago. !@#$ they're better than they were a week ago. They even got the !@#$ internet back up and running again...
But we could have done so much more.
The world was down to pieces, son. Just parts and people, looking up at the sky and asking "what now?" We could have built a new world up from that. A free world, full of free people and free markets. We could have had gun rights, civil rights, everything...
Instead, we get francophone caretakers who think they know what's best for us.
And worst of all, especially for me? They're being led by someone who's got it in for me like you would not believe.
Which sort of explains why I'm here, right now. Although there are many other reasons... not all of which are my !@#$ing fault, but some of them might as well be. You know how !@#$ing reckless I can get when I need to kick some !@#$ for life, liberty, and the defense of America.
And oh, isn't that just !@#$ing ironic, now.
So yeah, son. Long story, short time. The trial's due to start after New Years, which gives me a couple weeks to figure out what the !@#$ we're going to do. My legal team thinks we're !@#$ed, and I can't see that they're wrong, either. And if they aren't, and we are, well... SPYGOD could be in some deep !@#$ing !@#$ come the trial.
But this also gives me some time to take it easy, and enjoy actually !@#$ing having a boyfriend, and a cat. Not having to worry about the whole !@#$ world, anymore, is something of a novel experience. Sort of like realizing you didn't have to recite Shakespeare while you took a !@#$, after years of going through play after play, sonnet after sonnet.
It also gives me time to play around with a few things I've been learning about myself, too, though that's not something you have to know about just yet, son.
(Though the TU might just be learning about it before too !@#$ long.)
So, why don't we call it a night on getting maudlin and complaining? I'll fill you in on what !@#$ing happened as we go along, here, I promise. But for now, I'd like to settle in, have some wonderful homemade Pad Thai, watch some tube, and have hot gay sex in front of an open window just to make those protesters out there really !@#$ing angry.
Because I'm not the one who's locked up here, son. And by the time they figure that out, well... I think the world will have well and truly !@#$ing turned.
Bon apetit, mother!@#$ers.
(SPYGOD is listening to Living in a Box (Living in a Box) and having a bottle of La Biere du Demon )
No comments:
Post a Comment