Fragments from books that don’t exist: Apocalypse After Lunch


By noon negotiations had broken down and both sides had retreated to their respective chambers. In the East Wing Senator Bob huddled with advisors, contemplating their next move. Across the hall, Senator Bill was dining on Spicy Jalapeño Prawns and catching up on the Redskins game. The Skins were down by twelve with four minutes left and the situation looked bleak. Although they were playing Buffalo, the Senator felt no affiliation with the team that both bore his name and hailed from the state he officially represented. He’d grown callous during his years in “the swamp” and considered himself full D.C. native though he lived in Maryland and avoided the city as much as he possibly could. Senator Bill was not a man concerned with mere appearances. He was much more shallow than that. He lived his life according the the precepts of legendary Agriculture Secretary Earl Butz and was only concerned with loose shoes, tight pussy, and a warm place to shit.


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