The Curse of Obama

[Lord Long Rod]

Breathlessly, and as silently as humanly possible, I reached for the cellphone in my pocket. I figured this was my only hope as I lie there on the floor beneath a table in the dark room, listening to the nearby footsteps as they searched for me.



I extracted my cell and took care to activate it only after it was deeply and safely inside my coat lest the screen light betray my location. Once ready, I attempted to activate the phone. Nothing. I tried and then tried some more. To my dismay, the battery was dead. I quietly sighed. This was it. It is over for me. I am done for; a case of being fully fucked. “Oh well”, I thought to myself.



You have to know that I am a gentleman of some esteem and grace. I am self-made and quite wealthy. I made my money as an investment banker. But for the past two years I have been on leave from the firm on a sabbatical as I sail the Mediterranean in my 60’ sailboat made in China by the hands of the Uighurs. I commissioned the construction of the yacht and specifically requested Uighur labor.



At some point in our marine sojourn on the high seas we got word that we were facing turbulent seas ahead as the result of an intense storm. We decided to dock in southern Europe and take a few days to explore onshore. I took my wife, Ana Conda, rented a car, and drove two hours to a very upscale European city that you would immediately recognize by name. We planned on having a night out on the town.



I made reservations at a Michelin rated eatery called “Francois Fuchface”. I had heard much about this restaurant from a client back home. It seems that my client, Toddy ‘Twinkle Toes’ Toadstool (he is a dancer) and his wife, Mike ‘Meat Man’ McBane, had visited the establishment and had a dandy of a time.



While waiting for our reserved table Ana and I walked around the city. We found a Rolex dealer and went inside. We were warmly greeted by a young, affable sales rep named Alphonso Zeus. He was a beautiful specimen of an adult male, all virile and hard. Please note that I am not gay, and that I firmly hold the belief that it is perfectly fine to appreciate the beauty of all, male and female.



After looking over some exquisite examples of superlative horology, Zeus said he had something special to show me. He disappeared in the back for a few moments, as did Ana (another sales rep named Apollo, a large black man with a statuesque physique, said he also had something in the back room he wanted to show her).



When Zeus reappeared he carried with him, on a sterling silver plate covered in fine linen made from the flesh of slaughtered kosher calves, a Daytona Platinum! It is my grail watch! My excitement was immeasurable. Zeus must have shown it to Ana in the back room because she was moaning loudly in delight, as was I.



I immediately, and with a trembling voice, said “I want it.” However, I was met with a curt “no” from Zeus. He told me that this particular piece is being held for a VIP. “I can have the retail purchase price wired to you in minutes, Zeus!! PLEASE!!!”, I pleaded. But again Zeus rebuffed me. He then picked up the watch and started to return to the back room. I desperately said, “I’ll blow you for it.”



Zeus stopped and turned to me. “I am sorry Rod. As tempting as that is, this is just too special of a timepiece for just a humdinger. You understand”, he said. Then I blurted out, “How about my wife?!?!? You can have her!!!” Zeus chuckled.



Seemingly out of options I decided to go for the Hail Mary. “You can have my wazoo shoot!” Now THIS piqued Zeus’s interest. He said “Hmmmm… I guess I can put off Mr. Putin’s delivery a while longer if I want to. But you have to be candid with me, Rod.” I told him that I would be completely honest with him. Zeus looked me in the eyes and asked “Virgin or no?” I assured Zeus that I was indeed inexperienced in that way,



Zeus smiled and said ok. It would happen tonight. He told me that there is a very “open minded club” nearby where it would go down, and in front of onlookers who may, or may not, join in with the scene. This was a condition. I was in no position to haggle. I had to have that Daytona!



“Meet me at 10:00 pm tonight at Francios Fuchface”, Zeus said. I told him what a coincidence this is because Ana and I had reservation there in an hour. Zeus chuckled and said, “Of course you do darling. See you then.”



Just about then Ana came out of the back room with Apollo. Both looked sweaty and disheveled. I assumed the air conditioning in the back must be out. I asked Ana, “How did you like it?”, to which Ana replied in her deep, throaty voice, “It was marvelous, darling, but much too large to be comfortable. I prefer smaller, like yours.” I smiled to myself, knowing that my watch collection, which averages a 36mm case size is FAR superior to all the large watches being produced today (some as large as 46mm! Ha!).



Ana and I went to Francois Fuchface. It was not at all what I expected it to be. Ana demanded we leave immediately, as she has a very low tolerance for “dandies and deviants”. I told her I had to be there at 10pm in order to pick up my Daytona. Ana asked, “Oh, darling, you did not promise butt sex again to get a watch you like, did you?” I guess the guilty look on my face gave me away, so Ana turned and walked down the street and left me alone. “Fuck her!”, I thought, I am going to get that watch!!



I will not get into what all went down later at Francois Fuchface. I will just tell you that Zeus stiffed me. Then he stiffed me again!! He refused to deliver the watch. I was infuriated. I slapped him, hard. “WHAP!!!” It was then that the shooting started.



While diving for cover I caught a glimpse of the gunmen. They were dark skinned and swarthy, and they all had LeBron James beards. “HOLY FUCK!! MUSLIMS!!!!”, I cried out. I knew we were fucked!



The report of the AK-47s was deafening in this closed space. I feared that there may be a suicide bomber among them. My fear was exacerbated when I saw a guy who looked like a NYC cab driver holding a cell phone. I decided to make a run for it.



I hit the door and made it to the street, running for my life. After a brief moment there was a loud explosion right behind me. That fucking cab driver motherfucker had, in fact, detonated. Thank God I got out of there when I did! At this point I just wanted to find Ana and the car and get back to my boat. But it was not to be.



“ROD!! QUICK, IN HERE!!!”, came a voice from an open door in a storefront. I dived through the doorway, desperate for sanctuary. It was dark, except for a candle burning on a table in the middle of the room. I looked around for the person who threw me this life line. There he, or she was!! Standing in the darkness I could make out the silhouette. “Who are you?”, I asked.



He stepped forward, into the light. He said, “It’s me, buddy: Lou Skunt! Ha ha ha ha ha!!!!” I thought to myself, “Oh no.” I knew who it was. The last time I saw this guy he was snorting cocaine off a stripper’s thigh.



Yes, it was Hunter Biden. He and I have engaged in some pretty seedy deals in the past. Some of them almost got me killed. Hunter has always been a crazy prick. But when he is all coked up he is a menace to everyone around him.



Hunter started talking. His mouth was goin a million miles an hour, which meant he was coked out of his brains. He said, “Hey there, Buddy!! Long time no see, Ha Ha!! I thought that was you running down the street, good thing I recognized you!! Hey, you owe me now, bro! Ha ha ha!!” It was like listening to a cartoony used car salesman on speed.



Then things took a dark turn. I noticed other silhouettes against a wall, maybe 6-7 of them, sitting in the dark. I hold up my right hand to signal Hunter to shut up. Then I asked him who these guys were against the wall. “Oh, shit!! Where are my manners, man?!? Let me introduce you to my business associates”, Biden said.



Hunter turned on the lights in the place. Right there sitting in the same room with us were 6 Jihadi soldiers. Two of them clearly had suicide vests strapped to their bodies. They were all dressed in dirty white sheets, including on their heads, wore sandals on their feet, and had LeBron James facial hair. I was scared shitless.



Hunter continued with his rapid jibber jabber, “Don’t worry, Rod! These goat fuckers don’t speak a lick of English. An hour ago I taught that one missing an ear to say ‘I like cock’ Ha ha ha!!!! Hey Rod, you want a little bump?!? Hmm?!? I sure as hell do!!!” Hunter then sat at the table and started chopping lines and snorting them.



I said, “Uh, hey man, I am going to be going and …”, then Hunter interrupted and said, “No, dude! You can’t go out there now. The operation is still underway. You may get your head shot off. Know what I mean?? Ha ha ha!!!” I asked Hunter what operation, exactly, was he talking about. He replied between line, "The Jihad, bro! Ha ha ha <SNORT> We are taking down the colonial Christian something or other, fuck I don't know... <SNORT> All I know is that these goat fuckers are paying me a shit ton of dough to get them weapons <SSNNNNNNOOOOOORRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!> Ahhh...".

Hunter briefly lost consciousness. I thought to myself, "This is just fucking perfect. I run into this fucking prick, Hunter, and he is supplying an Islamic terror attack with guns. He does not even know what a Jihad is, and he probably does not care either, as long as he gets his coke money. What a dirty motherfucker!" Hunter then awakens, launching immediately into more rapid speech as if he had never lost consciousness. He was spouting some shit about the NY Knicks, then he looked at me and paused. "Goddamn, Rod!!! When did you fucking get here, man? Ha ha ha...", he asked. Hunter had already forgotten that I was already there.

I heard a window break, then all hell broke loose. I later realized that a couple flash-bang grenades had been thrown into our location, followed by what appeared to be spec ops soldiers dressed in black and carrying carbines storming the room. They immediately fired upon the Jihadis and cut them into pieces. Then silence. Through the smoke and darkness I heard Hunter say, "Hey man!! Cool guns, Ha ha ha ha !!! You know where a dude can get some female company around here? Ha ha ha !!" I heard another voice say "Calm down, Mr. Biden. We are going to get you out of here." They must have extracted Hunter immediately because it got quiet. I was hiding under the table with the candle, though now it was no longer burning.

I heard footsteps. I did not dare make a sound, as I was scared that they shoot me, thinking I was one of the swarthy terrorists. You could cut the tension in the room with a dick. I knew I was going to die. This is when I went for my cell phone, only to discover it was dead. I was fucked. I knew they would find me. They were sweeping the room. I figured that my only hope was to pretend to be dead. Then something completely unexpected happened. Somebody called out to me, by name.

"Rod? Rod?!? Are you here?!?", came the swarthy European voice piercing the dark silence. I immediately started assessing the threat. Who wanted to kill me? Who have a stiffed lately? Who in the world wanted me dead or kidnapped? Just then I felt a hand on my right ankle with grabbed onto me tightly and dragged me out from under the table. I heard another voice say, "I got him. Right here." I immediately had a hood thrown over my head and my hands bound behind my back. Then I would roughly thrown into the back of a truck, van, or some means of transport and driven off. I estimate that we drove for at least 2 hours before we stopped. The entire trip I tried to figure out who would do this, and was it for ransom or death?

Eventually, I was removed from the vehicle and roughly man-handled into a building. Then we suddenly stopped. I heard a burly man's voice boom out, "REMOVE THE HOOD". The hood was immediately pulled from my head. The lights were quite bright and hurt my eyes after 2 hours of darkness. I was unable to focus for a couple of moments. The guards then unbound my hands and threw me hard onto the floor, which felt like some sort of hard, polished stone. I then heard an effeminate voice say, "Open your eyes and cast them upon me, child". I did. By this point everything was starting to come into focus. However, I could not believe what I was seeing. I blinked, looked away, and refocused. Sensing my shock, the effeminate voiced one said, "Yes, it is Me, my child. You have my permission to gaze upon me." I did just that.

There were two of them, and they sat upon thrones fit for kings. I know this is going to sound incredible, but it is is the complete truth. The person talking to me was Barrack "Barry" Obama. The more manly of the two then spoke up with a more deep and gruff voice, "Let's get on with it!!! I have things to do!!!" At first I thought that Barry had taken to coupling with Sasquatch. Then I realized it was just Michelle without makeup, and without being properly dressed. I noticed that Michelle was sporting a huge woody too, which confirmed a lot. The effeminate Barry then interjected again.

"Rod. You are a tool of the wealthy and powerful, the colonizing western male white supremacist power structure. However, upon observing you attending Francois Fuchface I knew that you have a weakness of the flesh. You are here because I believe I can mold you into an Apostle de la Hussein. Michelle then ripped a loud, wet fart that echoed in the room. It did not seem to bother Barry. I figured he must be used to it. Barry continued, "If my Obamatry can turn one from the evils of whiteness to an Apostle of Obama, then such a divine action shall be the manifestation of the Obama Supreme Divinity!!! YOU, Rod, shall be my first salvation!! YOU, Rod, shall be the son Obama. YOU shall be die for Obamaness, then be ressurrected as an Obama, sort of black, very effeminate, and filled with racist rage and hatred." Michelle farted again.

I had fucking had it. Yes, I am a white guy who leads a rather cushy life. Sure, I may blow a guy from time to time for a Rolex. But I am not going to put up with some half-assed, negro demi-god making me one of its disciples. This was fucking ridiculous. I decided to rebuff Obama's madness in a language he could understand, "Now looky here, you jive ass turkey!! You ain't gonna fucking turn me into no jive-talking, street hustling n*****. You may as well strike me down right here and right now, cuz it ain't gonna happen, cuz." I then folded my arms and cocked my head sideways.

Barry-O did not know what to make of my outburst. However, Michelle was going ape-shit crazy. She was screaming animalistic and guttural cries of war and anguish, and trying to get loose to get to me. Fortunately, Barry kept Michelle on a chain. Otherwise, it would have charged me and ripped me to shreds. I understood what was going on. Michelle speaks negro because, well, she is a negro. However, Barry is not really a negro. He had to let it sink into his thick skull.

After the beast keepers came in with their electric prods and offerings, thereby getting Michelle to calm down, Barry once again addressed me in his nasal, effeminate voice. During Michelle's rage, she had accidentally destroyed Barry's teleprompter, which enables Big B to speak so eloquently. So this time when he spoke to me he was a stuttering, muttering mess. "Umm, well now, Rod, you know, I have always, uh, made it very clear, you know, that I am, uh, my purpose, my chosen, uh, trail, uh, no, umm, path, in life is to decolonialize the earf" he said. I paused on the last thing Obama said. I replied, "Earf... What the fuck is 'Earf'? Is that like a Nerf ... ball? Like a Nerf football, or something?!?" This irritated the second coming of dipshit. He angrily repeated the word, but he just could not say the correct pronunciation of Earth". It must be a speech impediment or something. What a dufus. I was laughing at him.

Just then, little David Axelrod came walking into the room dressed in some kind of weird rainbow colored S&M latex suit, with his junk exposed and subject to tight restrictive twine that was red from the plasma seeping through the skin due to the abrasions. I did not need to see anything else. "Fuck it. I am out of here", I said. Then I started hurling racial epithets at Obama so that he would become angered sufficiently to release the michelle on me so that she would kill me. I would much rather die than remain in Obama world. Finally, Barry did just that. Michelle had worked itself up into a towering black militant rage. She was screaming at the top of its lungs and hunched over in the aggressive stance of a tv wrestler.

Wanting to make this quick and permanent, I decided to play my ace card. I looked at that monster square in the eye and yelled "FUCK YOU N*****!!!!!!"

I do not know what happened after that. Maybe everything aligned just right to cause a rift in space and time. I just don't know. The next thing I remember is lying there on the beach with Ana playing with my junk. She was saying, "Come on, darling. I am horny." Ana is a verifiable nympho, which is why I married here. However, I had to find out what happened to me first. I asked Ana about it. She said that after she left me earlier in disgust, she took the car and returned to the beach, intending to take the landing craft and return to the boat. But then the strangest thing happened. When she arrived at the beach she saw me lying there on the sand. "I just got so horny not having a man for those 2 lonely hours", she said.

We both boarded the landing craft and returned to the boat. Ana and I immediately did the boat-side-boogey a couple of times. Then we showered and prepared for bed. I noticed something shocking while I was primping in the mirror. My skin had darkened. I mean, it had REALLY darkened. Was I getting THIS tan from being on the water?!? Then I noticed that my lips were swollen. I immediately remembered the Obama dream. "Fuck!! That could not have been REAL, could it?!?", I asked myself. In complete horror I cried out for Ana.

"What is it darling?", Ana replied when she entered the bathroom. I turned and looked at her with horror in my eyes. I did not have to voice my concern to Ana, as she was seeing it for herself. With wide eyes Ana said, "OH MY!!! Rod, what has happened to you?!?!?! You look like a negro!!!! Rod...your lips!! MY GOD, ROD, YOU ARE MORPHING INTO A NEGRO!!!! Quick, let's see if your junk is changing too!!!"

I ignored that last part. I was paralyzed in fear. I cannot live my life as a NEGRO!!! How will I support us? My firm has a strict policy against employing negros. I can say goodbye to all of my health insurance. I will probably forfeit my house since there are strict covenants in our neighborhood about black residents. And my A-1 credit rating?!?!? SHIT!!!! Once I am identified as black with the 3 major credit reporting agencies my score automatically drops 300 points!!!! I am fucking RUINED!!!!!

From some deep recess of my mind I heard an evil laughter. It was soft to start with, then it grew and grew in intensity. I was just standing there, mindlessly watching Ana excitedly measure my new black wang length. Something told me to look in the mirror again. I turned. What I saw horrified me to the fucking bone. In the mirror, looking back at me, was the stupid grinning face of ... BARRY OBAMA!!!

tl/dr: I stumble onto Hunter Biden during a Jihad attack, then get stricken with the Curse of Obama

 

[BULLDOG]

Interesting how you added all that madeup stuff to the real life story of you getting butt fucked. I guess you write about what you know, right?

 

[Lord Long Rod]

Interesting how you added all that madeup stuff to the real life story of you getting butt fucked. I guess you write about what you know, right?

There are so many layers in this story. Funny how you focus in on the anal sex part. You fucking pervert!

 

[BULLDOG]

There are so many layers in this story. Funny how you focus in on the anal sex part. You fucking pervert!

You talk about butt fucking to get a watch, and you want to call me a pervert?

 

[Lord Long Rod]

You talk about butt fucking to get a watch, and you want to call me a pervert?

Can you not fucking read, dimwit? This story is complex and nuanced. It is not a story about butt fucking. It just happens to have butt fucking in it for character development. Yet, here you are focusing in on the just the butt sex: Dick in Ass, that is what gets YOUR attention here. Did you even read the entire story? Do you know what Michelle Obama's erection symbolizes? Did you even catch that?

FO, you plebian. You have the sophistication of a 7 year old.

 

[BULLDOG]

Can you not fucking read, dimwit? This story is complex and nuanced. It is not a story about butt fucking. It just happens to have butt fucking in it for character development. Yet, here you are focusing in on the just the butt sex: Dick in Ass, that is what gets YOUR attention here. Did you even read the entire story? Do you know what Michelle Obama's erection symbolizes? Did you even catch that?

FO, you plebian. You have the sophistication of a 7 year old.

Charactor development? When did you first develop your desire to be butt fucked?

 

[Lord Long Rod]

Charactor development? When did you first develop your desire to be butt fucked?

Bulldog, you are such a stupid schmuck.