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Yet Another Meeting That Wasn’t

May 31, 2018

“You did not just ask that.”

“Yes. I did.”

“So the real reason you f***ers are here is to try to figure out how to f*** Americans with your mind control bulls***.”

“I didn’t say that. That’s not why we’re here.”

“Yeah, but you’re f***ing liars. Asking the question, ‘How did I beat it?’ is saying exactly that. That’s all you want to know? Look. To any American, that question only makes sense coming from a Russian spy. Are you a Russian spy? No. You are an American spy. So why do you sound like, why do you act like, why are you helping America’s enemies by f***ing with American citizens? I know the answer, I think. You only care about CIA and the extremely-doesn’t-really-need-more-wealth crowd. But do you know that that’s the reason? It’s more like you’re mind controlled. Like the ghost of Adolph Shitler got inside you and you’re possessed. I’m no priest, but you’re making me believe in some kind of demonic possession, even if it’s really gold fever.

“You guys are utterly unable to explain yourselves coherently. You’re drunk on power, like those you serve. You can’t think clearly, so it doesn’t matter if you know it all, cherrypick, or really do good intelligence analysis…because you don’t really understand it. You see shadows where there are none. Maybe that’s your job. Ok. But you need someone to tell you then where there are none. To hold your hand and tell you it’s all going to be okay.”

He got up and walked over.

“Can I…hold your hand and tell you it’s going to be okay? Or would you prefer a hug. That’s a nice suit. Hate to wrinkle it. So…hands?”

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From → Gonzo, Short Story

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