I've had this thing hanging about my palatial estate for a few years. It's kind of like an arial servant or something. It's way out back past the corn field and the old well, near the access road I built for the servants. I pass it y whildst riding my tractor from time to time.
One day, I stopped and asked its name.
"Rock Hudson," it said.
"Now stop that," I said, "What's your real name?"
"If I were to give you my real name," it said, "Then you'd be at liberty to command me."
"Indeed," I said. "I'm guessing you won't tell me."
"Nope," it said.
"Twenty questions, then?" I offered.
"Sure," it said.
"Liberal?" I asked.
"Yes," it said.
"Spectacles?" I asked.
"Yes," it said.
"Bachelor?" I asked.
"No," it said.
"Ghost of the Angry Veteran," I said.
"Fuck," it said.
"Go wash my car," I told it. So, you see...
Liberal. Spectacle. Not Bachelor. = Angry Veteran.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
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3 comments:
Oh the Navy has so many tells of making an angry veteran one's bitch.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, Fuggin' Hillarious!
What is the old Angry Veteran up to? Supporting John McCain?
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