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P. 1
FBI

FBI

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Published by Edwinn Matonis

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Published by: Edwinn Matonis on Jun 20, 2012
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06/20/2012

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Chapter 1: Commie ScumThe name is Dawginham, and yes, I am a communist for the FBI. I pose as one of those heartless, Godless, moronic scumbags that believe in Marxist theory and theeconomic equality of all so that I may expose those who would undermine the integrity andstrength of this great nation.How did I get to do this? I was assigned because of my wide and bold mustache.Everybody knows that in order to be a good Cossack, you have to have a manly ‘stache. Ido. In addition to my Stalin-esque mustache, I fell into some luck about 5 years ago whena Soviet defector…I’ll call him “Slimrack”…when Slimrack released to me documents thathelped expose the extensive nuclear spy ring the Soviets set up here in our great nation.What rotten scum; what complete human filth they are. The documents were given to metoo late, though, since the Russians exploded their own A-bomb only a month later.Slimrack, in return for his information, wanted amnesty in the United States. For me, however, the only thing worse than a scumbag communist is a scumbag communisttraitor, so he was locked him up and tortured until he gave us valuable information aboutSoviet secret codes. Once we had the information we wanted, we tortured him some more.I have his testicles in a jar on my desk.Even though I turned on Slimrack, I still owe him for my promotion and the prestige of my current assignment. Well, it is prestigious only for me, that is – no one elsewould think so. In order to help destroy the communists and their influence, I’ve had to pose as one of them. No one except my commanders know of this, not even my wife or son. To everyone else I am just a strange man - a man they are starting to suspect of beinga communist.I joined the American Communist Party and have been a card-carrying member for 14 months now. Like I said, many of my neighbors, and even my family, are starting tosuspect from my rhetoric and my ‘stache that I might be a commie. I even had to lie to beable to come to tonight’s party meeting. I told my wife I was going out to drink beer withthe guys and get drunk. She was not very enthused about it, but as we all know, she’drather me be a rotten drunk than a commie, and I am forced to agree with her.I cannot, however, let my hate for the communists show or I risk blowing my cover.Even my own wife and son must not know…no matter how much embarrassment I must bear or bring to them. I especially cannot let my true identity out tonight, since I amcurrently on my way to a large party meeting. Before I enter, I must warn you, whathappens inside is not pretty. I must, however, support this cause zealously, or else I maynot be able to get the important information I’ve been sent out to get. Ok, time for themeeting.“Hello Dawginham…it’s going to be a great one tonight,” said the foreman at thedoor.“Yes, I’m sure it will be. From each according to their abilities, to each accordingto their needs…that’s what I always say!” I said.“Oh, aren’t you going to remove your pants, sir?”“My pants?!?”“Yes sir, everyone inside is not wearing any pants. It’s a new directive.”“Oh, ok. Why, though?”
 
“Well, if you think about it, pants are a symbol of capitalism and its evils. See,they tell you that you need pants so they can simply sell them to you. When the workersunite and overthrow the capitalist scum, no one will need to have pants.”“But everyone will see my junk,” said I.“That’s alright. Size only matters to capitalist scum. Here, all weenies are equal!”“What about the women…they don’t have weenies?” I asked.“Oh boy…you are right. That poses a major problem we haven’t thought about before. Stay here and let me go find the VP.”As I stood there, my hatred grew. Communist bastards!!! I cannot believe theKremlin now wanted to get rid of pants!!! I bet Comrade Stalin still wore his pants, anddidn’t have to have his hairy junk flap in the cold wind. I bet he didn’t need to experiencethe cold sting of shrinkage like I was about to. Jesus…it just hit me. The women also willhave no pants on!!! Outrage!!! Half of the people inside at the meeting aren’t evenmarried. I guess it doesn’t matter, though…those communist bastards do nothing but have juicy, salacious, premarital sex all the time: Heathens!!! In fact…oh, here comes the VP.“Dawginham, you’re a genius!” said the VP, “I don’t know why we didn’t notice it before, but that is how sly those capitalist riff-raffs are. Penises are obviously the work ocapitalist pigs who simply want to subvert the working class by bending them over anddoing them from behind. In our new order, there will be no need for penises. All of us willhave a nice, smooth pubic vee! For your good work at helping stop the capitalist scheme, Iam going to let you be the first to cut off my long schlong!”Oh, and it was long…8 inches of man. I didn’t want to mutilate him, though, so Ihad to think fast. “Uh….I’ve come up with another great idea. We wouldn’t want thecapitalist pigs to have a…uh, weapon against us, would we?“No…” he replied. “What’s your point?”“I think what we need to do is not take away our penises, but give the women penises, that way not only are we all equal, but we will have double the number of penisesto use against the capitalists!”“My boy, my boy,” replied the VP, “That is pure genius. I will have to phone upthe Kremlin now and get them to supply us with penises for every girl and woman. Penisesfor everyone!!! Then WE can be the ones that shove them up the bums of the capitalist pigs! I’ll get on it right away.”“Excellent,” I said. “I’m going to head on in now.”“Aren’t you forgetting something,” said the VP. I proceeded to remove my evilcapitalist pants. The cool wind blew against me….shrinky dink!!!I entered the auditorium where the meeting was being held. The blinding sight of  bottomless people was everywhere, but I was on a mission and had to stay calm. Anyway,after 14 months of being a communist, I had put up with far worse directives from theKremlin. For example, there was the one time we had to whitewash all of the black members…we call them Commu-Nigs. I mean, literally, we had to paint them white.Some douche bag at the Kremlin read into The Communist Manifesto too deeply andsomehow pulled an interpretation out of his ass that demanded, for the sake of equality, all people have the same skin tone. The flavor of this week seemed to be pants, and will probably soon be penises. I’m sure, by tomorrow, Comrade Stalin will have a law forcingall of the Soviet proletariat to have their very own functioning apparatus of cock and balls.

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