Written by Dr. Billingsgate

Tuesday, 20 November 2018

image for Plot To Khashoggi CNN’s Jim Acosta Disrupted By Slim Everdingle And Dirty Trick

BILLINGSGATE POST: What could go wrong? Fifteen Saudis, inconspicuously dressed in white dishdashas and sporting keffiyehs, disembarked from a private jet which flew in and landed under the radar at a little used landing strip on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. With elegant Tamina brand leather sandals completing their wardrobes, their piercing eyes were surreptitiously hidden by matching black Raybon wraparound sunglasses. Some who were unbathed, smelled of dyspeptic camel bile. All were carrying grey Samsonites stuffed with reciprocal saws, hatchets and other dismemberment paraphernalia. The only thing missing was the Allstate Mayhem commercial.

But for the grace of Allah, they would have gone undetected. Parked beneath the shelter of an Elm tree, Slim Everdingle and his partner, Detrick “Dirty Trick” Detwiler, sat unobtrusively in their black 1951 Studebaker Champion which had served them well for the past 67 years. Munching on day-old Dunkin Donuts, mostly chocolate but some glazed, Slim watched with semi-professional disinterest as Dirty squeezed off a relay of popcorn farts that were dismissed by Slim as just part of the cost of doing business with Dirty.

Slim instinctively knew that these men worked for Mohammed bin Salman, Crown Prince of Saudi Arabia. In a deal struck between President Trump and the Prince in return for the President dismissing evidence that Khashoggi was assassinated by a hit man team working for bin Salman, it was agreed that loudmouth CNN reporter Jim Acosta would be taken care of by bin Salman’s team as a favor to Trump.

Dirty was beyond himself. Stroking his Remington Model 870 Pump Action 12-Gauge Shotgun like a musician playing a Stradivarius fiddle, he bore-sighted the 15 camel jockies with malice in his heart. It wasn’t so much he gave a shit about the plot to get Acosta; in fact, he hated the liberal sum bitch. He just wanted to even the odds a bit. 15 to 1 seemed unfair. A righteous man despite his penchant for farting in a closed car, in his heart he knew what he had to do.

“What do you think, Slim?”

“I’ll leave it up to you, Dirty. Let God sort it out.”

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

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