INDIANA JOE AND THE WALMART OF DOOM
“He is not one of us!” Cried out the blind sheik, “Get him my brothers!”
Cries of “Ali Snak-bar!” and “Kill the infidel!” rang out from the bearded rag-head fanatics.
Indiana Joe roared like a bear, his black beard shook from side to side and his whole body vibrated.
Joe felled the terrorists with his ham-fists, but they kept a-comin’! Joe knee’d a Nigerian and knocked out a Nubian. He choked a Chadian and sucker-punched a Saudi.
Then came a homicide bomber covered in Dynamite, Joe cast him out from the cell of the blind sheik. ‘Kaboom!’ He cast out another bomber. The cellblock was exploding and body parts were a-flyin’!
Joe slowed down; finally his bear muscles locked up from the 30 or so Moslems he had choked out. Joe could sure use a Starbucks about now.
The old blind sheik had Joe’s ankle, a tribe of emaciated Somali Shababs put their weight on Joe, ISIL had his arm, Al Nusra had his leg. Finally Joe collapsed under the combined weight of Islamic terror.
At the last possible moment, the Marine MPs came. They were big girls, milk fed dykes, who manhandled the muzzies, and pried the baggy pants rag heads off Joe. He was OK, missing some beard, and a little bit of ear. Joe would need a rabies shot, but he would continue to exist amongst the living for now.
“Well it seems you are free to go Joe.” Quipped the Colonel. Joe looked over at the waiting black helicopter and pointed to the gated exit.
“Since I’m here, I think I’ll visit Havana and hit the casinos.”
“No Joe, you are free to go into the black helicopter.”
Joe was strapped to his hand truck and administered anal tranquilizers. As the black helicopter spun off, Joe whirled away into unconsciousness…
IN THE LIMO
Joe slowly came to. He was in the back of a government limo speeding down the highway, Joe tried to read the signs, but the windows were darkly tinted. In the front seat were two secret service types. Joe knocked on the bulletproof Plexiglas partition.
“I want to get out.”
“You are free to leave Joe.”
“Will you pull over? Anywhere will do.”
“Joe, there’s someone who wants to meet you.”
Joe sat back, resigned to his fate. The limo exited the highway. They stopped at a red light and Joe considered making a break. He read the street sign ‘Pennsylvania Ave.’ Was this Washington DC? Joe felt a cold sweat come over him. In front of them was a big white mansion; the White house!
Joe looked himself over; he was kind of messy from all the fighting and renditioning.
“Maybe I should bring some Starbucks?”
“The one you’re going to meet prefers McDonalds.” Said the man in the passenger seat as he turned and grinned at Joe.
“Yes! I knew it!”
THE ORANGE MAN IN THE WHITE HOUSE
The gate opened and the limo drove directly to the underground parking. Joe walked down corridors, where secret service agents directed him into a bombproof elevator, then from hallway to hallway to The Situation Room, officially known as the John F. Kennedy Conference Room. Joe read the sign saying it was illegal to record the president and left his iPhone with a guard.
The double doors opened; there was the aroma of McFries and ozone. The doors closed behind Joe, and there he stood, the greatest American president since Richard M. Nixon; the honorable Donald J. Trump.
“Indiana Joe. I’ve been watching you on the news!”
The president extended his tiny but powerful hand, and Joe shook it vigorously.
“Mr. President, it is an honor to meet you!”
Joe was awed by the orange man; he could sense the divine spark in Trump.
“Mr. President, I must warn you.” Joe spoke in a low conspiratorial tone. “Sir, you are in grave danger; the Jews are out to get you!”
“Sure thing Joe. But first!”
The double doors opened, and Joe’s jaw dropped.
“Joe, meet Dershowitz from Harvard, and I believe you already know Counselor Loren Greenblatt of the Jewish Transgender League. Javanka couldn’t make it.”
Joe froze in disbelief with his mouth open.
“Whatayoudoin’ Joe, catching flies?” The president arched his eyebrows.
“Hiya’ Joe, you big juicy bear.” Greenblatt leered menacingly at Joe and flexed his muscles.
“Mr. President, Greenblatt’s a dude!” Joe lifted his arm and pointed.
“That’s one of the things we’d like to discuss with you Joe.” Dershowitz interjected, motioning for all to sit down at the conference table.
“The world will know of my penis at a place and time of my choosing.” Boasted Counselor Greenblatt.
“Joe, we’re playing 3D chess here.” The president put his arm on Joe’s shoulder. “You’ve hit the big leagues if you want to play smart.”
“First, I want to say that the battle for Walmart was magnificent! Very entertaining, great TV.” The President took on a retrospective look. “Indiana Joe here, has some brave men. I’ll tell you that, some brave, brave Crusaders, these guys. Counselor Goldblatt, really, what can I say, also some very brave, uh… You also had some very fine people on both sides.”
“You want me to keep quite about Goldblatt being a dude, it’s gonna’ cost you big time.” Joe leaned forward and furrowed his jet black uni-brow.
Dershowitz lifted his briefcase onto the table, “We are prepared…” Joe cut him off.
“I demand!” Joe coldly scanned his tablemates through his thick granny glasses.
“Every Walmart and Starbucks in the state of Indiana, and in Ohio, all the odd zip code Starbucks below the 40th latitude!”
Dershowitz looked physically hurt by Joe’s words.
Counselor Goldblatt angrily blurted out, “If he gets that I want a full Tranny ocean liner, with operating rooms!”
“Joe, you are a great negotiator!” The president beamed.
“Obviously…” The president cut Dershowitz off.
“You can have every Walmart in Indiana Joe, you’ve earned it. But the Starbucks, realistically Joe you’re looking at only locations in the south half of Indiana. I can’t help you out with Ohio.”
“But the in-store Starbucks…”
“They’re all yours.”
The president turned to his Jewish guests; “I’d like a word with Joe alone.”
Dershowitz said, “There are some important people who want to meet you Joe.”
Counselor Loren Greenblatt of the Jewish Transgender League made a snip, snip gesture at Joe, “We’ll meet again Hahahahaha!” He cackled as they exited.
Trump put his powerful arm around Joes shoulder and walked him towards the door.
“Joe, you’re doing great things, you and your thug army. I think you have a yuge future! I really do, you’re going to have some real money now with all those locations. Be careful with your money Joe. Crusades are a great idea Joe. Love the idea. A lot of people would like to see you re-take Jerusalem!”
“Yes Mr. President.”
“Watch for me on Fox Joe, listen for when I use ‘red meat’ rhetoric and give the white power symbol. That will be the time.”
“Yes Mr. President.”
“Deus vult Joe!” and just like that Trumps firm arm whooshed Joe out into the hallway.
Trump was a powerful man; Joe was glad they wouldn’t have to fight. Joe was glad that he and the president were sort of on the same side.
Outside the White house, walking along Pennsylvania Avenue and inhaling the fresh American air, Joe felt as a new man. Joe momentarily closed his eyes; he pictured the location of every Walmart in North America. Then Joe dreamed big, really big, of that day off in the future, when with Gods will, Indiana Joe would be crowned King of Jerusalem.