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September 30, 2002

The best part of waking up...

Anarchists Jennifer (not to be confused with Jennie), Chet and Brad are standing on the corner of Connecticut and M streets, NW DC. Jennifer, of the United Colors of Benneton United Against Globalization (UCBUAG), idly fondles her homemade coffee can bomb dangling from her distressed jeans she got from the mall just last week on mom's credit card. The coffee can bomb is made from a Folgers coffee can, marketed and distributed by the multinational Procter & Gamble company. No, she isn't making a statement about globalization, it just happens to be the brand she drinks every day when she's not getting her joe at Starbucks.

The anarchists spot something interesting: a 30something lad on a black mountain bike, jet exhaust billowing from his ass as he rides down the street. Chet, of the Gap Coalition Against Multinational Corporations (GCAMC) adjusts his $15 bandanna and takes a whiff of himself to see if his cologne is still working, and comments on the strange sight:

Chet: "Dude, check out that guy on the bike."
Brad: "Like, wow, like it's totally like the jet trails you see in the sky."
Jennifer: "'sigh' Contrails, those are called contrails. That guy like totally has a contrail coming out of his ass!"
Chet: "Damn, his honey pot must be on fire."
Jennifer: [Thinking deeply.] "Hmm...I, like, think I like have an idea!"

Sure enough, the guy on the bike is Jimbo, and his honey pot is so on fire his ass is a smoking gun ready to go off. Jimbo locks his bike outside of the 1211 Connecticut Avenue Washington Sports Club and makes his way into the gym to work off some built up tension.

Jennifer casts off her makeshift smoke bomb, tossing it into the gutter. "Move over Folgers, I've got something better. Like, let's roll, boys." She motions to Chet and Brad to follow, and moves in to tackle Jimbo.

Bereft of mojo from lack of nookie and job issues, Jimbo doesn't see the tackle coming and is overwhelmed by the bulemic anarchist teen girl. Chet and Brad soon offer grappling support, and soon Jimbo has his hands tied behind his back with fashionable canvas belts supplied by Chet (of the Banana Republic Anarchist Alliance Against Republics (BRAAAR)).

Chet: "So, like, why are we kidnapping this guy?"
Jennifer: "Don't you realize? This guy's honey pot is about to explode! Like screw those bombs we made this morning! Like they're gonna work anyway. We can hold this guy hostage and threaten to blow up the World Bank!"
Brad: "Is his honey pot that volatile?"
Jennifer: "Like, totally! As long as we keep this guy from getting laid, he has, like, the potential to level a city block."

The Anarchists lead Jimbo towards the World Bank headquarters, and don their Prada bandana face masks along the way. Amidst the chaos of the protests and police in riot gear, the fashionistas go unnoticed. They peg Jimbo down on a concrete pylon, the phallic object preventing the honey pot from immolating. Jennifer pulls out her megaphone (purchased at Target) and gets some attention. "Okay, like, everybody like listen up! You police state pigs better give into my demands, or, like, I'll pull this sad queen off the pylon and his honey pot will like totally explode!"

The mob falls silent, protesters and police alike. They gasp in unision as they gaze upon the poor guy piked on the pylon. The aura of sexual desperation around Jimbo betrays the truth, and they all know what Jennifer says is true. Most of the protesters flee in terror. The police have the sense to form a blockade around the building to keep onlookers and the press out of the potential blast zone.

"Call in the bomb squad, we've got a live one. We'll take care of the anarchists, but nobody touch the desperate queen!" The riot police gas the three anarchists holding Jimbo hostage. Jennifers' hopes of becoming sorority queen are dashed as the gas ruins her bleach job. As she's led away to the buses with Chet and Brad, tears stream down her face, totally like ruining her Revlon foundation and blush.

The bomb squad arrives in minutes, but none of them have the usual teflon/titanium body armor, bomb sniffing dogs, or defusion robots. These are specialists from the Special Honey Pot Unit (DCHPU), specially trained to deal with just such matters. Captain Zak Spears, clad in combat boots, camo cargo pants and a black tank top, surveys the scene. His deep basso voice rumbles, cutting the silence, "Yeah, looks like we got another honeypot turned firepot! I can take care of this one." Capt. Spears lumbers towards the lad on the pylon, determination in his eye. Jimbo twitches in response, eager to be rescued by the muscular federal agent. The last thing jimbo remembers thinking is: are Zak and Britney related?

To be continued...

Posted by jimbo at September 30, 2002 10:20 AM

Comments

Posted by: Rob at September 30, 2002 11:08 AM

Posted by: Tim at October 1, 2002 12:04 AM