Chapter Two. Raging Bullock.
Stan yawned, as he got off the plane. His flight from West Virginia to Washington had been a short one, but he had still managed a bit of sleep. He hadnt fetched any luggage, due to his quick escape, and was quickly through the airport. Stan hailed a cab.
Where to my friend? The small Chinese cab driver asked.
The White House. And Id appreciate it if you got us there in one piece and didnt crash the car through the gates. That is the greatest building in America and we dont need extremists destroying its gates.
Sir, the America China war was nine years ago. I was in high school then, and had no political allegiance to either side. If anything I voted Democrat.
YOU SON OF A BITCH!!! Stan yelled, as he punched the cab driver on the back of the head repeatedly. When he stopped moving, Stan quickly got out, and hailed another cab.
The driver of the next one was Greek.
Excuse me sir, but what is wrong with that cab?
The driver is sleeping. Stan replied. Hes dead tired.
Stan started to chuckle at his joke.
The driver looked at him in confusion. Is he dead?
No. Stan replied indignantly. What would give you that idea?
Well, you say he dead tired, and then you start laughing.
Stan gave him a suspicious look, before the driver took off.
Stan quickly made it to the White House. He rang the buzzer on the gate.
Who is it?
Its Stan Smith. He replied. I need to see President Bullock.
Do you have an appointment?
Whats your name again?
Help!! Stan heard someone cry over the intercom. Shut up, American pig.
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