P*** dogg 2011-12-23 03:55:57
by S. Zorca
Anarchy Comics #4, 1987
Last Gasp Comics
The President winced as his most trusted aide, White House Chief of
Staff Toby Manus, pulled taut the ropes that bound his executive
behind to the straight-backed chair. “Christ, Toby,” snapped the
squirming president, “I know we’re trying to make this look
realistic, but leave a little blood flowing so I don’t pass out
during the broadcast!”
“Yes, sir. Of course, sir,” todied Toby, bending over to loosen
slightly the hemp bonds. “It’s just that the Professor wants to zoom
in for a close-up shot of the ropes just before the ‘SWAT team’
breaks in to ‘rescue’ you. He says that will help build sympathy
among the voters for you.”
“Bah,” sputtered the President, “sympathy, schympathy! If this goes
right, there won’t be any more voters. There won’t be any more
Congress or Senate, for that matter. I just want an excuse to
declare a State of Emergency. This little trick oughtta do it!”
Toby edged over to the video camera and began adjusting the image as
the Chief Exec raged on, “OK, let’s go over this one last time. The
Professor breaks in on all the regular TV channels…”
“All except Playboy, Disney and Pat Robertson, boss,” interrupted the
always obsequious Toby. “Even the Prof couldn’t figure out how to
pirate THOSE cables.”
The President snarled as he assessed his visage in the monitor.
“Move the camera a little to the right,” he ordered. “Gotta make
sure the Professor captures my best side.”
His mouth contorted into his famous calculated smile and he went on,
“T***, ducks and Jesus. Who gives a s***? At least my ‘kidnapping’
went without a hitch. Let’s get back to the scenario.”
“Right,” enthused his lackey. “No more kid gloves. Now you can
squash all those slimy rabble rousers who’ve been protesting your new
detention camps and our involvement in all those third world wars
“Can the c***,” barks the President. “Just as you put the machine
gun to my throat, the SWAT team bursts in, shoots the place up,
‘rescues’ me and…Where are your ski-masks anyway? Nobody’s gonna
believe international terrorists without ski-masks. After all, this
“Your wife is bringing them, sir,” fawned Toby.
“The Prexy’s brow furrowed into an evil arch as he strained to look
at his left wrist, “What time is it? It must be nearly time to go on
the air. This is just like the old days in Hollywood. H***, where
On cue, the First Lady waltzed through the door. Her glossy black
hair was swept up into a mushroom cascade and her shiny skin-tight
pants caught the klieg light’s glare. Pulling a couple of day-glo
masks out of her voluminous purse, she purred, “I know you said black
masks, but the fall likes aren’t in yet and all I could find were
these horrid little numbers.”
Now it was Toby’s turn to wince as she handed him his hot pink mask.
Yanking it over his perfectly groomed hair and adjusting the eye
holes, he turned to see the First Lady facing him, holding her Ingram
in a classic “Tanya” Hearst pose.
“F****** morons,” fumed the President. “Surrounded by imbeciles.
Where’s the Professor anyway?”
“He’s checking all the computer and satellite connections one last
time before we break in on the airwaves,” placated Toby.
“Never fear, sanity is here,” boomed the Professor as he barreled
into the room, his starched white lab coat flapping about his knees.
“Ten seconds to showtime,” giggled the President’s wife as she pulled
her mask on over her curls. “I love show biz.”
“This is going to be one classy terrorist communique,” beamed the
“Is the SWAT team ready in the hallway?” queried the anxious
“The ‘SWAT team’ was never invited,” offered the suddenly assertive
Toby as he strapped a piece of duct tape over the President’s mouth.
The politician’s eyes bulged with fearful fury.
“Perfect,” grinned the Professor. So righteous. So indignant. And
he’s not even acting. OK, everybody – five, four, three, two…”
Instantly, all across America, TV screens flashed the image of three
masked terrorists holding machine pistols to the missing President’s
head. A digitally distorted voice-over, that of the Professor, could
be heard. “Mr. President,” the voice intoned, “we of the
Evolutionist Liberation Front accuse you of unforgivable crimes
against nature, humanity and your country. You have been judged and
found guilty. In short…”
The President waxed apoplectic under his gag. This wasn’t the speech
he had prepared for the Professor! When he squealed inside his
fetters, Toby whacked him upside his head with the b*** of his
“…the gig,” continued the Professor, “is up.”
Panicked, the President of the United States twisted around,
confident that his wife would end this increasingly bizarre charade.
But, alas, beyond the second gun, pointed dead on his temple, he saw
her engaged in a deep passionate kiss with the day-glo masked Toby.
The last thing he ever heard was the sound of both guns as they were