POP GOES THE WEEZAL

"And with that vote," said the reporter. "Open carry becomes the law of the land in all but three States." Matthew groaned. "As if there wasn't enough violence already." "Well," Luke pointed out. "Our agents are still working this thing." Matthew and their young guest nodded. * * * "Ah, you looked at my girl-friend the wrong way, buddy," shouted Clide, the burly man with the smallest penis ever but a gun big enough to compensate for it and then some. "Now you're gonna die, Buddy. You should have seen the rocket launcher on my hip." "Actually Sir," said Samson. "I was looking at you." The man's face went from red to purple. "You're a fag. Well, now you're really gonna die. You should have seen the. . ." Suddenly, the man broke off and screamed as a bullet from another gun hit him. "There we go," said a woman. "You see, more guns do make us safer. I shot him before he shot you." "You shot my husband!" cried the woman who the man had thought Samson was looking at, reaching for his gun. "If you shoot her, I'll shoot you," cried another woman from somewhere nearby. "Then I'll shoot you," cried another voice. Suddenly, the sky grew dark, and then all around there were jagged lances of light and roars as loud as gun fire, but slower and far more rumbling. "NO one is going to shoot anyone more this day," rumbled an incredibly deep and incredibly loud voice within the continuing rumbles from the sky. "This ridiculous open carry from the Republican obsession with being anti Democrat even when the actions it prompts are INSANE ends now." "The Thunder Boys," whispered Samson in awe. "I'd heard rumors, but I thought that was all they were." "Fortunately for you, Samson," said the voice. "But unfortunately for most others here, you were wrong. We are real." Then, beams of lightning struck the ground itself, each accompanied by a deafening clap of Thunder, and out of each of the jagged flashes stepped a pair of young men with nostrils so large Samson felt his already rock solid penis start to ejaculate, right in his undershorts. "Well," said one of the two "Boys" from the first pair to emerge from the beams of light from the clouds. "It seems we have quite a mess to clean up here, Joshua." "Yes, Timothy, it certainly does." "Fire!" shouted someone from the crowd. "Oh come on," said another Thunder Boy in a bored tone. "Surely our legend has told you that much by now." "It would seem not," said his partner as the bullets began to fly. Samson watched in amazement and awe as every bullet, shrapnel and even, to his utter confusion, six or seven canon balls, all dissolved six inches from the bodies of all of The Thunder Boys and then they all made sweeping motions with both hands, he thought he would go deaf with the thunder this roused, and every weapon in anyone's hands dissolved just as the "bullets" had. "Open carry is over," declared a "Boy" with nostrils that's width were One-Hundred Percent of the width of his face. "We will let one of you go, to spread that word. Samson, you will be protected. The rest of you must reap what you have sown; violence, suffering, and death." Samson suddenly found himself encased in a ball of lightning and saw the woman whose husband had thought he was looking at her flee the circle. Then, all of The Thunder Boys spread their hands towards each other. "Samson we send to The Fortress of Thunder. Next stop for the rest of us, The Republican National Convention." Samson saw the whole area explode in Thunder and lightning amidst screams of pain an cries for mercy as he flickered and felt his substance being drawn away. The last thing he saw before he was whisked away was all of The Thunder Boys swinging their hands down and then there was a great "pop" as they vanished and everyone within the storm was consumed by the lightning's fire and thunder's roar. "They were weasels," he muttered, thinking on the gun nuts that he had escaped. "And pop goes the weasel." * * * The next thing he knew, he was laying on a stone floor with three he assumed Thunder Boys, one with nostrils that slightly exceeded the width of his face, staring down at him. The two older ones, though, did not seem exactly solid. STAY TUNED FOR THE CATACLYSM AT CONSERVATIVE CENTRAL, WARRIORS OF THE STORM, AND TUNE IN NEXT WEEK FOR ANOTHER INTERMEDIATE ADVENTURE.