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COMEDY BLOG

Angel Invaders Comedy Blog

By William Norman 19 Jan, 2018

(Howard King)

 I’m not really into stealing. Borrowing I’m okay with. And if you’re stupid enough to leave incriminating goodies on your computer, you’re pretty much begging for it.

 I flipped the light switch on as I quietly slipped into the room. Didn’t even have to pick the lock to get into Jackson’s office. Not when you’re a lowly ol’ guard. Lucky for me, the senator’s security personnel screening is as rigorous as a Trump judicial nomination.

 Playing security guard for the last month sucked big time, but now it was all paying off. The tired beige office was nice and empty, so I quickly made my way past the grandfather clock over to Jackson’s desk.

 Six minutes, maybe seven before they’d miss me downstairs. Plenty of time. I booted up Jackson’s dinosaur computer and eased the flash drive from my breast pocket. Christ. This thing would have one of those ancient towers with the try and find me USB slots.

 The computer was taking so long to boot, it gave me time to wonder what made Wilson so sure that there’s useful information on Jackson’s computer. I’d be surprised if this thing was even hooked up to the Internet.

 The flash drive finally started to blink. According to Wilson, all I had to do was plug it in, and the flash drive would do all the work. But then again… the Angel Hunter chief says lots of things.

 A noise outside the room. Shit. I barely made it out of the chair before the door swung open. It was one of the senator’s aides, Rubens or something.

 “What are you doing in here?” Rubens dark eyes looked more hungry than they did accusing. A little creepy. He shut the door behind him all quiet-like and smiled at me. Very creepy. Reminding me of Wilson or a blue cheese bacon cheese burger left out for a day or two.

 “Just doing my rounds.” I stepped from behind the desk with my best let’s be pals smile. This idiot was ruining everything. An elbow strike should knock the wimp out. “Why here so late?”

 Rubens sidestepped, effectively stepping out of striking range while simultaneously blocking me from the door. “I smell your fear.”

 Drool was actually dripping from the fucker’s mouth.

“No, that’s aftershave you’re smelling, friend.”

 “Doesn’t matter.” Rubens’s jaw elongated on its own like one of those cheap horror movies . “I’m hungry either way.”

 Where did those shark teeth and black claws come from? Shit, shit, shit. This couldn’t be happening. But it was…

 Ruben leapt at me like a goddamn wolf or something. I rolled to the right, letting his own weight carry him past me. But Rubens or whatever the hell he’d become was back on his feet in seconds. But I already have my trusty Marlin out, so I plugged the fucker with three 350-grain bullets, center mass.

 Which slowed him down.

 A little.

# # #

By William Norman 13 Jan, 2018

Wolfman baby!

Please forgive me if I’m interrupting one of your much needed mud baths or VC on Fire paper mache master class tutorials. But my secret communiqué is of great importance.

        The National Institutes of Health has recently lifted the ban on researching risky virus studies. Now foolish American scientists and sensible health startups can continue making pesky viruses like the Bird Flu even more potent and deadly. Can you see the potential here?

        Sure. The Obama government and its Commie-liberal allies installed an authoritarian moratorium on funding these important studies because of one or two small Anthrax incidents. Wussies! Would Baby-Trump allow good sense and the protection of the American people stand in his way of making a fast buck? No!

       Why any startup that delves into this viral research has the potential to be the next Theranos. Hopefully, with less lawsuits and bad press.

   So let me know if you’re interested in joining in my latest viral machinations.

Spirit Crush

Angel Invaders Comedy Blog

By William Norman 19 Jan, 2018

(Howard King)

 I’m not really into stealing. Borrowing I’m okay with. And if you’re stupid enough to leave incriminating goodies on your computer, you’re pretty much begging for it.

 I flipped the light switch on as I quietly slipped into the room. Didn’t even have to pick the lock to get into Jackson’s office. Not when you’re a lowly ol’ guard. Lucky for me, the senator’s security personnel screening is as rigorous as a Trump judicial nomination.

 Playing security guard for the last month sucked big time, but now it was all paying off. The tired beige office was nice and empty, so I quickly made my way past the grandfather clock over to Jackson’s desk.

 Six minutes, maybe seven before they’d miss me downstairs. Plenty of time. I booted up Jackson’s dinosaur computer and eased the flash drive from my breast pocket. Christ. This thing would have one of those ancient towers with the try and find me USB slots.

 The computer was taking so long to boot, it gave me time to wonder what made Wilson so sure that there’s useful information on Jackson’s computer. I’d be surprised if this thing was even hooked up to the Internet.

 The flash drive finally started to blink. According to Wilson, all I had to do was plug it in, and the flash drive would do all the work. But then again… the Angel Hunter chief says lots of things.

 A noise outside the room. Shit. I barely made it out of the chair before the door swung open. It was one of the senator’s aides, Rubens or something.

 “What are you doing in here?” Rubens dark eyes looked more hungry than they did accusing. A little creepy. He shut the door behind him all quiet-like and smiled at me. Very creepy. Reminding me of Wilson or a blue cheese bacon cheese burger left out for a day or two.

 “Just doing my rounds.” I stepped from behind the desk with my best let’s be pals smile. This idiot was ruining everything. An elbow strike should knock the wimp out. “Why here so late?”

 Rubens sidestepped, effectively stepping out of striking range while simultaneously blocking me from the door. “I smell your fear.”

 Drool was actually dripping from the fucker’s mouth.

“No, that’s aftershave you’re smelling, friend.”

 “Doesn’t matter.” Rubens’s jaw elongated on its own like one of those cheap horror movies . “I’m hungry either way.”

 Where did those shark teeth and black claws come from? Shit, shit, shit. This couldn’t be happening. But it was…

 Ruben leapt at me like a goddamn wolf or something. I rolled to the right, letting his own weight carry him past me. But Rubens or whatever the hell he’d become was back on his feet in seconds. But I already have my trusty Marlin out, so I plugged the fucker with three 350-grain bullets, center mass.

 Which slowed him down.

 A little.

# # #

By William Norman 13 Jan, 2018

Wolfman baby!

Please forgive me if I’m interrupting one of your much needed mud baths or VC on Fire paper mache master class tutorials. But my secret communiqué is of great importance.

        The National Institutes of Health has recently lifted the ban on researching risky virus studies. Now foolish American scientists and sensible health startups can continue making pesky viruses like the Bird Flu even more potent and deadly. Can you see the potential here?

        Sure. The Obama government and its Commie-liberal allies installed an authoritarian moratorium on funding these important studies because of one or two small Anthrax incidents. Wussies! Would Baby-Trump allow good sense and the protection of the American people stand in his way of making a fast buck? No!

       Why any startup that delves into this viral research has the potential to be the next Theranos. Hopefully, with less lawsuits and bad press.

   So let me know if you’re interested in joining in my latest viral machinations.

Spirit Crush

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