As The Light was getting ready to leave on a long planed vacation of some fly fishing for rainbow trout on Venus, one of his assistants came running up to Him!
Ole Song Bird McShame has assumed room temperature, and is in the waiting room of the Room of Truth and Justice!
He is trying to rape the children, he has part of the waiting ones starting a brawl with another group, he is demanding everyone bribe him, and all sorts of evil despicable things!!
The Light said:
Ok, send in the beast to restrain him, put his sorry ass in a straight jacket, stick something nasty and dirty in his pie hole, say like one of Manshell obombister’s used jock straps, tape it shut, and get his ass into The Room!
Damn!
SOB been dead for years, just refusing to stop breathing, until i am leaving on damn vacation!
Son of a Bitch!
Some time later, after the Light had calmed down a mite, he walked into The Room.
The Light looked at the foaming at the mouth idiot, which was trying to masturbate himself, with his own feet, and shook his head disgustedly.
Throwing a bucket of water on the wiggling creature, The Light said:
Ok!
Like you were a pain in the ass to humanity in life, you are now a pain in the ass to me in death!
i have Valhalla one, standing by to whisk me to a much deserved fishing trip, and you!, you ASS HOLE, have to damn well die before i leave!
Your case, being such a one as requires my own hand in judgement!
Now, generally the rules say every soul gets to speak in defense of them selves, before i pass sentence.
But then, i make the rules, and one thing they taught me at Light school, was there is an exception to every rule, and today, you are IT!
There is no defense for any sorry thing you have ever done, and i don’t want to listen to your zionist drivel and bull shit!
So i here-by pass sentence!
You will be the cock roach, on the ass of Tricky Dickey, who pardoned your sorry ass for treason.
He is now a shit eating possum living in the Lincoln Memorial.
There is this flea who also lives on Tricky Dickeys ass in WASHINGTON DC, he has been waiting for someone to hit with his golf balls for a long time!
SOB pardoned Tricky Dickey, who pardoned you!
Now you all get to keep your asses together, and in WASHINGTON DC!
Poetic Justice!
Turning to his assistants he said tiredly:
Get his ass on the possums ass, and tell that Pedophile Son of a Bitch, Papa CIA BadBush, if he kicks the bucket before i finish my fishing trip, his ass will be a Massachusetts yankee carpet bagger Lobster, in Hel’s kitchen, getting cooked alive, again and again!
And tell Henry Pissinger, the child raping son of a bitching war criminal, if he gets his lard ass hanged, before i finish my fishing trip, i will make him a cock roach on Hillary’s ass, and he can start riding her ass, while she’s still alive!
As The Light Strapped himself into Valhalla One, he could see the Beast dragging the now screaming Song Bird to the shuttle to DC.
Where he would eat Tricky Dickey, the grinning, shit eating, political DC possum’s reprocessed shit, while the flea nobody voted “fORE!”, hits him in the back of his head again and again, with wayward golf balls.
Damn The Light said, this fishing trip is going to be good, and Loooooong overdue.
John C Carleton