January 08, 2016

#BundyEroticFanFic between Ammon and Potus at #BrokebackOregon

Yeah, I heard about the first hashtag and its background; the second is, as far as I know, my original. Look, folks, a Tweet just don't cut it. You need the full story.

And, I've got it.

#Bundyeroticfanfic (For background, SCENE 1-SCENE 3 headers are clickable links.)

"I showed Obama my heart, and this
is what he did to it!" Ammon Bundy
“But, he promised to arrest me,” Ammon Bundy half-shouted, half-pouted to everyone and nobody at the same time, in a frigid, cold room at Malheur.* “Doesn’t Obama know how hot testosterone-fueled rage makes me? Besides, if he’s spying on me, he knows I told my wife I like handcuffs.”

Suddenly, Ammon’s cell phone rings, vibrating firmly in his tight jeans pocket.’’

“Goddamit, who is this calling me right now?”

“Chill, Ammon, it’s Potus Bear.”

“C’mon, I’m tired, I’m cold, I’m lonely and I’m horny. When are you going to crash in on me, with your big guns, and lock me up tight and hard?”

“Not yet. Hillary is triangulating again. It’s that time of the political calendar. I promised I wouldn’t do anything to upset her rhythm.”

“You’re putting her ahead of me? You have no Constitutional right!”

“I’m sorry, but Hillary —"”

“But I'm so cold, Barry!”

“Look, Ammi, I know. You just have to trust me.”

Ammon grew rigid, then went limp, in the frigid room at Malheur, finally letting out a soft moan before hanging up.

“Was it good for you?” Hillary Clinton asked at the White House, leaning over Barack Obama’s shoulder while nuzzling on the edge of his ear.

“You know it, baby. I love screwing with guys like that.”

“By ‘screwing with guys like that,’ do you mean … ?”

“Sorry, baby; some things even the NSA doesn’t know.”

“What about Snowden” she asked, running a finger through his hair.

“Do NOT try to connect me to him. Period!"

* Editor's note on the story line:
“Malheur” is the patois metis French word for “Cowboying on the down low.”

“I got cows that are scattered and lost,” LaVoy Finicum said.

“Look, I’m really, really, missing the iron-tight embrace of Obama. Nobody cares if your fucking cows are lost or lonely.”

“But, that’s it! They’re my fucking cows, and they’re lonely, and so am I.”

“I’ve heard about your type,” Booda Bear said.

“What do you mean, ‘my type’?”

“Cow-fuckers. Like goat-fuckers, only more desperate.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about. You get cold, lonely, anxious and scared, on a cold winter night riding range in the High Desert. Your wife’s far away, and she’d give you the cold shoulder anyway, because you smell like cow. So, you do what comes natural for a man in the saddle.”

“You take that back!”

“Don’t worry, LaVoy. Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Where’s Booda Bear?”

“I don’t know,” Ammon told his brother, Ryan.

“Man, we gotta find him!”


“Listen to what he just heard from all of us. Maybe Alex Jones is right, and there’s a false flag, and Booda planted his false flag right in this tight hole in the middle of us.”

“Alex Jones, Alex Jones! You talk about him too much. Maybe HE’S the false flag, with the way he calls everything else a false flag. You just want him to call you, like Obama called me. In the same way.”

“You take that back!”

“Make me!”

Suddenly, Ryan leaps across the room at Ammon, tackles him, and takes him to the floor. After a few minutes of wrestling, Ryan, hot and sweaty, pins Ammon to the floor.

“This is just like when we were kids.”

“Did you ever think it would come to this?”

“You know Ammon, especially from this position, you look kind of cute. Is that what you’re hoping Obama sees in you?”

“Once you go black, Ryan, you just never go back.”

“Tell that to LaVoy, why don’tcha. I heard he’s buying black Angus.”

What happened to Booda Bear? ….

“Damn, how could Booda do this to us?” Cai Irvin asked the question while trying to choke down tears. “I feel jilted. This is like finding out there’s no Santa Claus.”

“Maybe he felt jilted, too,” Jon Ritzheimer said. “Did he ever know you loved him? Did he ever feel your love?”

“You know I told him we were incompatible. Stop throwing that in my face. It’s not my fault.”

“Well, you could have let him down easier. Next thing you know, he’ll show up on Alex Jones, and that will get Ryan twice as mad and three times as jealous as before.”


Stay tuned …

Meanwhile, here's my serious take on what's happened so far.

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