Thursday, February 23, 2006

Chief Kingston's Doughnut Testers to Assist the President

By: Chocolate Thunda baby! Shaken, Not Stirred!

In an unexpected move, the Mistawalka Police Department has decided that they will not assist the United States Manly Secretion Service in protecting the president when he arrives on Thursday in this area. MPD officers stated in a release, “Due to the tight budget this fiscal year, it would be unfair to expect the city to pay overtime to officers for something that the federal government should already be able to handle.” They also added that the reason the budget is so tight is because of the President’s tax cuts to the superrich, which has strapped the state of Indiana for much of their needed revenue.

It’s much the same story north of the border in Michigan, where police departments struggle to stay under budget and fund mandatory expensive electric surveillance programs under orders from Homeland Security. In Broken Springs, where a millage renewal will come to a vote later this year, reserve officers attending the Police Academy cannot even afford schooling without help from the taxpayers. Despite these financial hardships, all Broken Springs police officers and village employees recently received 3% pay raises. And nearly all of them have jumped at the opportunity to assist our able President.

Just as guaranteed as my tomorrow morning bowel movement, those who crawl up the thin blue line that separates corruption from money laundering in Broken Springs have offered to replace Mistawalka’s police absence. Also known as the Doughnut Testers of America, Chapter 3901, Broken Springs Police Department has volunteered to glad-hand with the Commander-in-Chief. The most powdered and powerful of the department, Chief King-Ding-a-Ling himself, made the following statement about the assignment with the US Manly Secretion Service. "I feel that our over-vacationed, over-eatin‘, under-worked department has a real chance to shine and prove to all the Troublemakers, Shallows, and Supervisors out there that we‘re good at something other than eating doughnuts and Subweigh Sandwiches." The chief continued, "With the opportunity to get more money for the department, we can get more items that we want but don't need like tas... er I mean manuals on proper race relations. Once we figure out how to use the tas.. er I mean Electrical Correctional Equipment, the troublemakers of this fine Village/Metropolis will learn to submit to my every whim!" He then laughed evilly.

As if that wasn't enough, Sheriff Paul Bunion then walked in and pushed Chief Eats-a-Glazed away from the mic. Putting one arm to the forehead of Kingston while the Chief violently swung for all his worth, Broken County’s Bottom Feeder pipes up. "On behalf of the Broken County Sheriff's Department also known as Doughnut Testers of America, Regional Chapter 54, I accept your nomination for the seat of head jelly fil...umm… oh crap...wrong moment here, it has got to be somewhere. Jimmay, What did you do with daddy's speech? Oh, here it is, here we go. OK, on behalf of the Broken County Sheriff's Department, we also would like to extend our support to the United States Manly Secretion Service because those commie Mistawalka City Police pansies will not show up on Thursday. The benefits of being able to balance my nine million dollar budget and have some left over to purchase the retard helmets I need would do wonders for the department. I believe that once you see what small town police communities can do, the people will have no choice but to elect me to another four years and Jimmay and I can continue the hunt down those Red Troublemakers at no extra expense to the taxpayer."

There was some more yapping of the jaw as Jimmay and Boss Hawg insisted that there is no crime in Broken County, thanks to them. Meanwhile, someone in the press corps, (assumedly from the Herald Pollution) jumped up with the news that their wallet was missing. So while Chief Kingston took a description of the wallet and scribbled down the poor sap’s soon to be maxed out credit card numbers, Sheriff Bunion babbled on and I fell into an alcohol induced coma. When I woke up, Bubba was hugging me saying, "You got such a pretty mouth!"

Oh Crap! Did Jimmay deputize me as the one and only Chocolate Thunda? Did I drink just a little too much at the Broken Springs Watering Whore and pass out at the Press Conference? Will Jimmay get his...Taz...ers? Will I stop trying to freak you, the reader, out with possible bad endings? Well, one thing’s for sure! I need to stop because this call to Shallow Throat is costing her nine dollars and twenty cents a minute. Until I get bonded, don't drop the soap!

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