At the Presidential Residence... “Sir, there is a heavily armed insane person selling Amway at the door,” announced the butler. “Well, let him in,” said Germy without hesitation. The man entered brandishing cleaning products and a pyramid investment chart. “Hi there. Filthy Sanchez, your presidency.” “No, not right now, maybe later,” replied Germy “No... no sir, that’s my name, I’m Filthy Sanchez. If you give me just five minutes of your time, I’ll show how you can clean those shit stains off your towels and participate in an exciting and rewarding growth industry.” “Well Mr Sanchez,” Germy stopped for a moment and then continued, “I’m the president you see. I have no need for dodgy pyramid business models, you see. I have no need for any third rate cleaning products you see, and I certainly have no interest in an insignificant nuisance like yourself, you see?” “No... I don’t see.” Germy turned to one of his guards. “Throw this pest in Trak Asylum!” he commanded. A sudden ill feeling quivered through Filthy Sanchez. He, like many citizens of Psychoville, had heard the stories about Trak Asylum. Officially, it was a psychiatric hospital. However, in reality it was a dumping ground for the helpless. It was run by the most inept and corrupt members of Trak Industries, who over time had handed the management of the facility to a sect of low IQ mutants who spent all day playing soggy biscuit. Most of the patients were not mentally ill upon entering the establishment. Rather, they were usually the unofficial prisoners of the Urine government or people who had teased Germy at school. Filthy Sanchez had dealt with people who had been released. Despite the fact they were without fail, great Amway customers, they were all visibly shattered men for the experience; completely changed. He let out a howl of desperation as the guard dragged him away.
Inflict Kafe Gavani On The World
Be first to comment this chapter
Add your comments on this chapter - Registration not required!
