Swamp Things, Brownstones, and Woodrats

Guest Post by Norman Franklin

Much has been made about draining the Mordor on the Potomac. It’s a swamp like no other. It is an ancient swamp that followed the people yearning to be free as they fled the persecution of all the kings of Europe. It grew up around the new magic land and to this day has never been drained. This swamp has so many characters Disney could make a series out of it akin to the old ABC after school specials. Instead of being about the Constitution, Bill of Rights and how laws get made it could be all about bathrooms, safe spaces, and little boys and girls playing ping-pong with swamp creatures, Neocons, and Hollywood movie stars. This show would be a Utopian example of inclusiveness, diversity, multiculturalism, and political correctness.

Foggy bottom is full of all sorts of denizens. All of which prefer dank, dark places. These creatures try to stay out of the natural light, but they love the klieg lights. We, the people have been able to get a better understanding of just how these weasels function. Thanks to Wikileaks and those who expose the secrets of these musky vermin, we now know that the whole lot of them are compromised in just about every fashion imaginable.

Let me introduce you to our first character. Barry the Hussein the former raccoon puppet king of the swamp. Traditionally when one is no longer puppet king of the swamp he goes off to Hawaii to run a hot dog stand or pizza parlor. Barry did not follow the time honored tradition that no former swamp king should ever speak ill of the current king. The raccoon swamp king thinks he’s special because he got a participation peace prize just for showing up. He caused much mayhem in and out of the swamp.

Next up is the woodrat Chuckie Schumer. His nickname is ‘the cheese’ after his most favorite place on earth – Chuckie Cheese Pizza. Although it is a well known fact of nature that rats love cheese, Upchuck also loves the smell of gefeltafish in the morning. His good friend Wiener the Worm turned him on to this years ago and he has been hooked ever since. Being that woodrats have poor vision Chuckie wears spectacles. He prefers to wear them on the tip of his nose cause one night in the brownstone cafe Sen Carl Levin told him it makes him look smart. However, in Upchucks case he still looks like a halfwit.

No swamp would be complete without a chorus of voices chiming in at opportune moments. The members of this swamp choir are Private Jet Piglosi, Maxi Foul Waters, McGobbler, Punchy Reid, Rat Ryan, He-din-du-nuffins Holder, Hiawatha Liz, Sellout Sanders, Chaffetz the Mouse that Roared, Blabber-mouth Schultz, Sen Swinestein, Sen Snowflake, Sen Stewart Smalley and last but not least little Marco the hot tub bubble boy. The choir is frequently off key, the cacophony of their hypocrisy however is deafening.

The most devoted fans of the choir are the fake news shills: Anderson Pooper, Jake Fapper, Don Lemon head, George Step on all of us, Charles Sour Krauthammer, William Glorykristol, and Mark Cuckerberg. They attend regularly for their inspirational tonic of hope and reassurance with both the choir and the fake news fans singing in unison “I am a wonderful human being, I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and doggone it, people like me.” They also sing the classics like “four legs good, two legs bad,” “stronger together,” and the all time favorite “I’m With Her.” After this massive circle jerk all involved upload the video to fag book, as further proof that they have risen above mere mortals.

One creature who is in a class unto itself is the faggy little Wampus cat Lindy Graham. As wampus cats go she’s not much, seems as if she came from the shallow end of the swampy gene pool. Lindy does display the trait of terrorizing animals and small children, as well as smelling like a skunk and a wet dog. Most wampus cats like to steal little children, not Lindy, any time Lindy is feeling lonely and low, she makes sure no one sees her as she ambles over to the giant brownstone just outside the swamp.

To gain entrance to the brownstone one must go up to the giant iron door bend over, knock the special knock, after which a little hole opens halfway up the door. A greeter in a wheelchair, a shriveled little old man, the ex president GHWB perks up and says “Now read my lips, what is the caterwaul of the secret roll call?” Lindy thinks for a moment. “By the blood on the Forrestal, by the Republics downfall, by every glory hole in every wall, I am your snowball.” Bushy replies, “Excellent young wampus cat, you may enter. Leave your electronic devices with the Wookie Mr. Mooch hell. Man-Bear-Pig will escort you upstairs.”

Inside one quickly realizes this is a neocon hangout. Neocons are creatures said to be of a swampy nature but able to take on human form and fool people. The neocons make sure there are always lots of children around. As well as many human chimeras to scare the children so they will trust the neocons and swamp creatures. The brownstone has many floors sort of like a human grocery store. With many strange beasts and freaks of nature. It is a human menagerie with the star attraction being a human centipad. It is a place like nowhere else in the magic kingdom.

In this creepy stone structure the top most 66th floor is a place reserved for special guests, only the most loyal swamp things, war heroes and the practitioners of the religion of peas are allowed. Sen Mellon Head McStain owns the presidential suite. Here he entertains his ISIS friends from all over MENA. The suite was given to McStain by Satan himself as a reward for his help throwing the 2008 election to the unknown lefty from Hawaii Barry the ball boy. There have been rumblings as of late that Mellon Head may get tossed back to swamp for his epic fail. He was tasked with destroying the New York Don. The best this doddering old fool could come up with was waving his own piss stained sheets around and trying to say they were the Donald’s.

All the creatures are required to attend a brownstone meeting once a week and swear fealty to the walking boss George Sorrows, AKA the Honey Island Swamp Monster, a kind of humanoid Cryptid reptilian like creature rumored to be in charge of all nightly spectacles of the swamp as well as the brownstone. It is said that Swamp Monster is never happier than when he is setting out honey pots and honey traps. He keeps the queen of corruption on her meds and drags her out from time to time, putting a funny pink hat on her head, juicing her up and having her lead the barren old crones in chants and incantations praising infanticide.

Cleaning up the messes made in the brownstone requires a great deal of dedication. The janitorial staff is compromised of Brennan, Comey, Susan Rice and Horse face Kerry. Being on the janitorial staff is a full time job. It was decided some time ago because of male white privilege that Susan Rice would be solely in charge of cleaning the toilets. This was an easy decision for the boys since little Suzy has a subnormal IQ as evidenced by the fact that she still believes in fairy tales, like a you tube video caused a bunch of stone age throat cutters to take our swampy ambassador, rape him and drag him through the streets in his underoos. Anytime little Suzy tries to bring up the incident in the break room, Horse face Kerry usually says something along the line of “STFU and go make me a saaammich.” Much to the amusement of the boys.

The Honey Island Swamp Monster is pleased with his work. He is the master of all he surveys, the sights, sounds, and smells of this fetid swamp are pleasing to his senses, and soothing to his being. All this reminds him of growing up in Bun Yip’s Billibong. This monster is as old as the serpent himself and plans on living forever on his diet of body parts and baby blood. The only way to stop him will be to bind him in chains and throw him into the pit that burns with fire. Perhaps Donald the Deplorable could declare open season on swamp critters with a no bag limit policy.

The preceding work is a true fiction, only the names have been changed to protect the guilty. No children or small animals were harmed in the writing of this.