Spectre

Posted: November 18, 2009 in Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , , ,

On Free-Market Capitalism’s Secret Service.

Episode 1: The Spectre of Malice.

“Master! master! An intruder has infiltrated the base!”

“How in the Fuhrer’s Hell did he do that?”

“He…ummm…came in through the fire exit.”

“Damn thish Health and Shafety nanny shtate! I oughtta club them and eat their bonesh!”

Igor shrinks and turns to leave, but turns to stone with a raised hand from his Master, who spins his throne around to face him.

“Listen carefully Igor. I want this interminably antagonishtic interlocutor brought to me at oncshe!” He spits, with a comical lisp.

“Yes Master!”

The Master reclines. A malevolent smirk sweeps across his countenance as he gently strokes his white pussy cat.

A series of buttons pushed in the correct order and a tiny screen rises in front of him, broadcasting CCTV footage of the intruder putting up a futile fight against the hunched mutant minions smothering him. Within minutes, the door to the Imperial cave is opened, and his nemesis is seated, bound and beaten.

“Well, Agent Straw, sho good to shee you again. Why came you unbidden to my shubterranean kingdom?”

Bloodied and spiteful, Straw spits vitriol.

“You’ll never get away with this Griffin! You and your motley group of misfits will never infect us with your poison!”

Griffin’s milky eye fixes on his accuser. It sends a shiver down Straw’s spine.

“That’s where you’re wrong my mishinformed friend. You kill me and there’s a thoushand to take my place. Our name ish British Legion, for we are many.”

Straw wipes the spittle off of his face.

“Yesh yesh, I’m like a worm. You cut my head off and I become two. Like a cockroacshh, even a nuclear war can’t finisssh me off!”

Straw looks utterly bemused.

“Am I getting through to you yet? Hmmm? You weedy little milky white liberal surrender monkey??”

Straw struggles for words.

“I…you…wait…milky white? What?”

“IGOR!”

Igor scuttles in and sticks two fingers up at Master. Griffin shakes his head.

“How many times Igor? You salute with all fingers facing up. Palm down, pointing up.”

“Yes Master.”

“Never mind. Jusht take Agent Shtraw here to the re-education csshentre.”

“Yes master!”

Igor drags a completely bamboozled Straw out of the cave. Griffin cackles slyly to himself, stroking his pussy harder now.

“Are you ready for shome real Britisssh beef Churchill Enoch Powell? Mmm yesh you are. Good men fought and died for this beef.”

Straw is strapped into a cold chair by two disfigured trolls. Despite his struggles, he is subdued, and the two monstrosities leave. Griffin strolls in with the aid of his white cane.

“Good evening Mishter Shtraw.”

“Good God man, who are these fiends you have working for you? What in the world have you done to them?”

“Oh don’t mind thoshe little chaps, they jusht don’t shheee much of the shun. Now. To the real reashon I brought you here.”

“You’ve gone mad Griffin! You’ll never get away with this! We in Britain are tolerant of difference and we will never be too full! You say seventy million? I say: not enough!”

Griffin cackles to himself. After mopping the drool from his shirt, he flicks a switch, prompting a large projection to appear on the wall facing them.

“I think you might find thish enlightening my dear Shtraw. But first…”

Griffin reaches into his pocket and lunges at Agent Straw’s face. After a brief struggle and scream, Griffin backs away, leaving Straw’s eyelids propped open with matchsticks.

“What are you doing? Let me go!”

“It’s been nice knowing you Mishter Shtraw. Sheee you when you come over to the dark side!”

Griffin’s milky eye penetrates deep into Straw’s soul. He presses another button before turning off the lights.

“Enjoy!”

Griffin slips away. The projection flickers to life.

A beautiful woman undresses, and rolls around on white sheets. She hugs a white pillow close to her body.

A man drowns in tar.

Young children in white footsy pyjamas laugh and eat scores of white marshmallows.

A man walks across his kitchen until the lights suddenly go out. Sounds of crashing and cursing are heard.

A beaming bride walks up the aisle in her resplendent dress.

A disconsolate man collapses in tears at a funeral.

Nobody hears Agent Straw’s screams.

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