Written by Morse

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Friday, 5 March 2010

image for Spoof Reporter Continues Pursuit of Pulitzer; Gets Off In Cuba! "Tell Barry 'no hard feelings' and' Buscar Flete' from Me!"

Soon after International Reporter Earl Grey had completed the second leg of his quest to interview some of the world's freakiest political strongmen, he found himself in a twin engined float plane bound to Cuba from Curosol after ducking out from Venezuela and the maniacal Hugo Chavez.

As the WWII PBY droned on to his next assignment, Earl wondered what awaited him on the Communist Island lying just 90 miles off the coast of Florida. Since the Castro boys had thrown out the dictatorial President Batista in January 1959 the island had been kept isolated by mutual choice of both nations, even though the US maintained a presence with a military garrison at Guantanomo Bay.

Since the violent overthrow of the government of Batista and the Don Corleone crime family, thousands of Cubans had made their way to Florida's sunny shores, most drawn to the light, lively, and mostly gay life style of the Florida Keys centered in Key West.

Arriving on Kon Tiki like rafts, Inflated garbage bags, Kayaks and hang gliders, they merged easily into the laid back life style of the Keys.

After toasting their arrival at Sloppy Joe's open air bar, and participating in more than a couple of Cinco de Mayo public orgies, most of the Cubans had migrated up the coast and transformed an aging Miami Beach to a glittering mecca of Salsa Music, trendy eateries, fast cars, fast women, and the making of a star in Don Johnson and the Miami Vice Series.

But enough of Background Shit, or the desk bound editor would call 'filler' material, and on to Havana!

As the PBY began it's decent into Havana, Earl had a good look at 'Gitmo', now home to a few hundred terrorist prisoners from the Middle East.
He passed over the soccer fields where it appeared a lively game was going on, saw the bay where sailing lessons were being given, over the tennis courts, the 9-hole golf course, and even the pristine beach where a surfing contest was being held by a bunch of guys with colorful beach towels on their heads.

Splash down was uneventful, and the aging plane taxied up to the dock with only a minimum of wake, and was greeted by an armed contingent of the Presidential Guard, standing at present arms.

Earl emerged into the sunlight and the balmy breeze, squinted, put on his Ray Bans, passed some discreet gas caused by the inflight snack of rice and beans, and acknowledged the head of the Guard. "Hola, Socio! Que Passa Perro!"

The captain nodded, smiled and presented Earl with a box of select Cohiba Cigars, then ushered him toward a waiting caravan of government vehicles all flying the Presidential Flag in place of the radio antennas on rear fenders.

Earl slid comfortably into the front seat of a 1957 2 door Belaire Hardtop, heard the comforting rumble of a hopped up 283 CI power plant , the slightly loping thump of a 3/4 race cam, and the snick of solid lifters, all causing the most satisfying sound of American Horse Power as the exhaust exited through a pair of 2 1/2 inch chrome tipped pipes.

"Ahi Nana!" exclaimed Earl, unable to contain his enthusiasm at this display which only reinforced his opinion of Global Warming theorists that Earl considered "Cabrons!"

Arriving at the Presidential Palace, Earl was amazed to see it was something out of the past, as nothing had changed since the 50's. He was ushered into the Presidential sitting room, the heels of the escort clicking on the polished Terrazzo floors, the hum of the ceiling fans, and the breeze from the large open windows complimenting the sounds from the Juke Box in the corner still playing 45rpm recordings of Tito Puente.

Earl was ushered to a large chrome and formica round table surrounded by vinyl cushioned chairs in pink, red, azure blue, tangerine, and banana yellow.

As Earl sunk deeper into a time warp, his revelry was interrupted with the opening bars of "Bolero", and then the announcement he had been waiting for: "EL PRESIDENTE!!"

A slight rumpled man with an oversize mustache, a face ravaged by the sun, and wearing well worn battle fatigues approached the table as Earl rose to greet him.

"Que bola, Asere!" Welcome to Cuba Senor Grey! Now sit, we eat, we drink, we talk Spoof Shit, fuck up heads of Americans some more, No! Pinga!"

"Thank you for the warm greetings Presidente. And how is the Brother of the Presidente feeling today, well I hope!"

"Ah...Fidel...he has his good days and bad. Today is not one of his better days. His mind plays tricks, today he is back in his head commanding a firing squad reliving the good old days. I tell him, Broder, bazur al ponzo...better to eat pussy then shoot fellow Cubans! No?"

"Si, El Presidente. Ponzo! Speaking of which, El Presidente Chavez sends warmest of greetings to you and all Cubans!"

"Como! Buffoon! He is our Jay Leno...lots of laughs with his monologues on TV all the time."

Raul pointed to the corner where a RCA 10" black and white TV with no sound showed Hugo gesticulating, arms swinging, fingers pointing and surrounded with teleprompters.

"Better in Cuba than Venezuela. Poor Maricons, over here we can turn him off or turn down volume...they're stuck with him. He's on TV almost as much as your new dark man president Barry the Chingedera!"

"Do you see relations changing now that Obama is the President?"

"Maybe yes, maybe no. Depends if our South American Unity Group sticks together, gets more global warming money from UN and IMF so we can build Nuclear Reactors and a few bombs."

"But you still need a delivery system to be able to deliver the warheads and back up your threat."

"No problemo. Left over Soviets from Nikita designed and built 23 rockets capable of flying 91 miles before falling to earth and go boom-ba! Ha! Big surprise for Miami Beach....'say hello to my little frien!" HA!"

"But how's your economy doing?"

"Bueno! US only country not now supplying stupido touristas with lotsa money looking for good time, go mambo-mambo with our hostesses.
Just sold two aging baseball players to Yankees for lots of cash, sugar cane for ethanol big money maker, and just dumped 125 classic muscle cars at Barrett Jackson auction for $15m. Plenty more left. Hey, you want cherry '56 Ford Crown Victoria in original Tutti-Frutti paint...I make you good deal!"

"Thanks for the offer Presidente but I travel so much, I have no use for a car.
But, tell me about your health care, I hear you have some of best doctors in the world."

"Si. Es Verdad. Already cured Cancer...Cancer free since 1959."

"You cured CANCER! Why doesn't the world know?"

"The world is run by rich people who only want to profit from death. It is not to their benefit to cure cancer, or have cars run on Cuba Libres,Ha, is not so?"

"But tell me, how did you cure cancer!"

"Easy. As soon as Batista leave, as soon as Mafia bosses go back to states, we round up all sympathizers , put them against wall and shoot them. Viola!
No more chance of Capitalistic Cancer Spreading! Once in a while we have isolated cases, but after treatment they prove to be benign!"

Earl decided to change the subject. "Do the Cuban people still harbor a grudge for the assassination attempts and the invasion by the Americans?"

"We no hold grudge, just tell US politicians singa tu madre! We get satisfaction, took out 2 of 3 Camelot Commandos, drive the last one to drink.
Cuban justice. Slow but sure, No?"

"Sounds like there will be no reconciliation soon with the US and you seem to be surviving quite well. Are you able to grow and import enough food to feed everyone?"

"Of course! Crazy Mericans waste a lot at country club down the road, lots of Pork especially, never touched, but they keep bringing in Pork for clients. Fresh vegetables, bottled water...Dios mio, you should see our food reserve warehouses, all courtesy of the US of A...A is for Cabrons...Ass Holes! HA! You get it Earl? Now, time to eat."

A tray of fresh cuban sandwiches magically appeared on the table along with pitchers of margaritas and Cuba Libres, plantains, cured ham and the ever present rice and beans.

'You eat Earl. After Siesta, we see if Fidel is up to meeting Reporter who wants to write about us. I think he even wants to give you a special watermelon for you to present to Barry as a token of remembrance and good will from the Cuban People! Then a siesta, rest up for tonight and short boat ride. I have arranged for two of my female assistants to take you to Miami for dinner and some Salsa...Ha! a 'galleta' for Obama, No!"

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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