HungerBAD:
Mods.

“Have a taste,” I offered, taking a sip then offering the flask to him.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he said.

After a few sips, he suddenly blurted out, “Syphilis!”

“Say what?”

“Bill Clinton is suffering from syphilitic dementia. But don’t tell nobody. You hear?”

Bill Clinton was well known as a horn dog. As they say down here, he’d Bleep a snake if somebody held its head for him. So the idea didn’t seem that far fetched. I was about to answer when we both heard a grunting noise in the bushes below and in front of us. WS and I – both emboldened by the booze – figured from the sound it was a godzilla-sized hog and began blazing away at the bushes. As the noise of our volleys died down, we heard an eerie woman-like shrieking followed by the sound of something heavy scrambling through the undergrowth in a panic.

“Wild hog?” WS asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. “So how do you know all this?” I asked.

“A buddy of mine works Bill’s Secret Service detail. Clinton’s irrational anger, irrationality, mood shifts and suddenly blurting out the truth, are classic signs of dementia induced by syphilis.”

“Isn’t syphilis curable these days?”

“Yeap. But Bill’s a repeat offender. Makes it harder to knock it out each time. In fact, there’s a little colored girl named LaMathisha at the CDC in Atlanta whose exclusive job is to sit at her computer terminal and track Clinton everywhere he goes; afterwards, a CDC team discreetly moves in and starts cleaning up behind him.”

Our buzz was wearing off by then, and we figured Otis and Earl weren’t coming back to get us. WS and I descended and headed back to the rendezvous point. We emerged from the woods just in time to see an ambulance shut it’s doors and leave hurriedly.

HungerBAD:
Mods.

Please do the needful,this guy is passing out fake information.

I say 12 days in the cooler sounds okay.

Mynd44,lalasticlacla,seun.