Story One.

‘If Saddam had invested more of his money in the infrastructure of pussy, this war wouldn’t have occurred’ 

Pussy. Uncle Sam loves pussy. He likes African American pussy, Hispanic, Caucasian - he especially gravitates towards expensive pussy, none of that illiterate poor shit. He only wants the good ones, the ones with an ivy league education and a trust fund. The ones he can sell - the ones he can use to make this world a better place.

He points his finger in all directions, rotating it, flexing it, curling it, winding it, exploring all the nooks and cranies imaginable in the giant bed of Americana - spitting out the invalids, the powerless, the defunct - Sitting on their faces in an attempt to eliminate the useless. How dare they smoother him with the stench of poverty and debt. How can he possibly invest the necessary monetary funds into the procreation of the creme de la creme of pussy if he is sinking into the depths of the abyss surrounded by an array of inadequacy.

Cindy Bank helps old Sam with kickin that pussy to the curb - Cindy Bank is proficient in the art of iniquitous behavior - a temptress, a seducer, she is the mistress of the gods. Cindy sold her soul to Sam in exchange for immortality, for an inheritance in the vastness of eternity.

She slips into the wards at night, dressed unexpurgatedly in black, scratching her red 2 inch nails along the neglected walls. She creeps beneath the doors, mercilessly injecting morphine into the unsuspecting, rendering them incapable of prying open the claw tightly wrapped around their health insurance claims. Oh she can move, she dances into the  night, swaying her hips and licking her lips, luring you with the taste of all things nice. She won’t take her eyes off you, she won’t keep her mind off you. She will see you through the crowd. Don’t trust her, don’t look into her eyes, don’t think about her because if you do, she will kiss you, she will carefuly slide that slimy tongue down into your throat, piercing the cavities of your soul, where she will plant a corrosive disease - she will consume you.

She is just the catalyst which crystalizes the masses, the only other pussy to keep an eye is Medina. Oh sweet, sweet Medina. She has the biggest pussy going around. Once you’ve had her, you can’t find anything else - nor would you want to. Medina sweeps her way into the privacy of homes with her fancy clothes, push up bra and pearl thong. She whispers into your ear at night, listing all the ways you could change in order to get the best pussy you could ever dream of. She is lucrative and sustainable. She will be there when it all turns to shit. She will lick your arse, tickle your balls, kneel on all fours and cleans the floor using her tits.

And when the graveyard is full, old Sam peels away the apple core, throwing the world back into the ocean of scavengers. Oh how the 500 will be greatful for all the hard work I have done, now all I need to do is sit and wait. 

So Sam sits on his celestial throne, edaciously devouring the decadescent pussy that is thrown his way - nurturing the youthful elysians whilst carefully constructing the plight of new delight.