Condomnation

The story on a dilapidated nation's collapse and the means for its happening This story is translated from McLanguage. Some words did not translate.

        The day the old homeless man decided he was the messiah and dropped dead was the same day Horatio McBillion started a road trip with his son, McBilly.  It started with an idea to boost McBillion’s campaign, Lik my Billions, then, McBillion decided to take one of his inbred sons with him through the dilapidated country of Condomnation with him.

            After Horatio finished sending some helicopters with Lik My Billions banners across the country to advertise he went to Billy’s Edukation Aktion Phalace to pick him up. Children were required to go to the phalace once a week for their Edukation.  Horatio went inside the echoic space.  The inside walls were covered in ads: McBillion’s Restaurant, McBillion’s Plasma Hub Rental, McBillion’s Housing Units, and McBillion’s Friend to Friend Chain were a few of them. This is my… town, Horatio thought to himself.

            A dumpy group of kids sat on a dirty rug, once upon a time it had bright, garish colors on it but now it was filthy, dull, and smelled like a depressed heavyweight wrestling champ who had taken a bath in the garbage dump.  Everyone was gathered around a dirty screen.  Super Greggy, a middle aged Neo-abdiest, waltzed across the screen singing “Imagination.”

            McBillion grabbed Billy by his undershirt, which was drenched in gelatinous sweat the consistency of translucent chicken fat.  The private jet was waiting on a landing pad outside.  It was time to leave.  McBillion had thought about taking a dirigible cross-country but then people might think Horatio was paying homage to the blimp tragedy.

            Horatio loaded up the canned rat meat and cooking ointment into the jet.  After the country outstripped their food source they started kidnapping pets and breeding pink hairless rats.

            Dumbwaiter sat in the control booth of the jet playing on his outdated recreational electronic device that simulated having a pet.  He called it his god dish.  Dumbwaiter laughed loudly and obnoxiously, knocking over the McGlass of soda to his left.  He heard a tapping at the door. The McBillions were boarding.

            Dumbwaiter pretend flew the jet over the toxic wasteland area.  He had been specifically instructed to avoid the boardwalk and Priestcation museum.  It brought jealous tears to McBillion’s eyes to see it.  He would have tried to throw the entire cracker supply on top of the museum just as one would throw crackers on French onion soup. But everyone knows that throwing crackers from such a height would attract the attention of the mutant seagulls.  The crackers would be gone before they ever touched the ground.

            Just as Billy and Horatio were about to have a snack, the jet began to descend rapidly.  Dumbwaiter threw all of the parachutes out the window and prepared the cabin for crash landing.  Billy sat calmly by his father’s leg as he was trained to do.  Then the jet split in two as it hit the new Neo-abdiest church spire.  Dumbwaiter was rocketed out the window and into the wild black with smog yonder.  A camera swiveled, taking close watch on the McBillions and not far away, an overweight nobody with a ridiculously curly beard sat watching intently. Waiting.

 

            The half of the jet containing a very unhappy McBillion crashed onto the pavement cushioned by the gray fungus that grew everywhere.

            A tall man in priestly clothing came foreword sitting on a throne carried by midgets.  The man explained in broken McLanguage McBillion created that Horatio had just destroyed a very meaningful and sacred cardboard cutout that belonged to the righteous priestcation church.  The man was constantly scratching his head with both hands, and then he forgot to breath and kicked the bucket.  People did that a lot.  It was becoming a health hazard.

            It didn’t matter.  McBillion wasn’t paying attention anyhow; he was too busy pulling shards of class and metal out of his face.  Billy was writhing on the ground; an exhaust pipe was stuck through his leg.

            Horatio and his son struggled along the road, moving slower than a cat in propylene glycol (sugar edition). Posters were taped on the street for Angelo Buttrash’s art exhibition.  A party was happening at a police water park.  A police woman ran out of a gas station whooping, her arms full of stolen deodorant and candy.

            The McBillions went inside an abandoned Mosque to rest.  A clang came from the next room.  It startled Billy who was dragging himself along by his arms.  He let out a little yelp and flipped over on his back just in time to see a figure moving through the shadows.

            “Dad!” Billy squealed.  Horatio saw the figure too.  A person stepped into the dim light coming from a window.  He was a grubby man with beetle black eyes and a ridiculously curly beard.

            “Who are you,” McBillion whispered.

            “I am Bobbert Imnotsofat.  I was on the Priestcation dirigible,” Bobbert was shirtless and held one hand behind his back.

            “No you weren’t.  Why are you here anyway?” Horatio squinted through his swollen eyes.

            “No one comes here since the dawn of Neo-abdi-ism,” Bobbert moaned and undid the rubber band that was holding his fat back.

            “Why did you lie?”

            “I…” Something about Bobbert was oddly arousing to Horatio.  This man was a sexy beast.

            “Come, my tour is over.”

            The McBillions and Bobbert stole segues from a store on the corner and began the long trip home.

            The McBillions had the second largest abode in the country.  When Bobbert came in the first thing he noticed were the thousands of ads covering the domed floors.  Horatio snuggle himself into an upholstered chair.  Noticing that there were twenty people in the house he didn’t know, he screamed, “Get out!” at the top of his lungs.  They scrambled out the door, nearly uprooting his self-portraits that he placed near the door to impress visitors.

            Bobbert was making himself right at home.  It was like he had been there before.  Creepy.  As soon as he got to the kitchen a buzzing in his ears told him it was time for the public message.  They came once a day from the government through earphones placed on people when they were babies.  Everyone (with the exception of maybe Horatio) were too stupid to take them off, thinking the headphones were part of their body.  The message began:

 

“A wise man once said, ‘Dwayne, when we get home we gonna be so ripped.  Our wives gonna love us.”

For all of you whose memories only extend an hour, that was the deity Mikey.  His beautiful body can be viewed at the Priestcation museum on the boardwalk. This is you’re Anyius speaking from the government.  Now lets listen to what Breast Idaho and Winnah Alexi have to say on your favorite radio show, Who is the King?”

 

            Bobbert turned the speakers off.  Then he went into Horatio’s company control room to look around.  Horatio McBillion happened to be the only working male in the beautiful country of Condomnation.

            Later that nigh, Horatio was taking his ritual bath while watching the last hour of Naughty Nursing Home Antics: Part 3 in which Artago refuses to wear adult diapers.  Horatio poured some more fun colors into the bath and allowed his nasty parts to turn green. 

            McBillion dried off and got into a plushie robe.  Bobbert popped his head into the bathroom.

            “I made you dinner!” he said as sweetly as a bank teller with a lollipop.

            “Marvelous,” Horacio swept into the kitchen. The smell of fresh hamburgers wafted into Horatio’s hairy nostrils filling him with delight.  Bobbert had retied his rubber band and looked almost as good and ablicious as Dwayne.

            Bobbert watched Horacio eat.  “I must get a thigh burner peep show.” For all of you who don’t know, thigh burner peep shows are pleasure machines with exercise recumbent bicycles built in. They are well known for their presence on the Priestcation Dirigible.  The ab deities, Mikey and Dwayne made good use of them while also operating the dirigible.  “It did wonders for those operators.” Horatio petted Bobbert’s elbow.

            “I am a strong believer in thigh burner peep show.  You smell so good.”  Bobbert tugged at Horatio’s greasy ears with his teeth.

            That night they went out on the town.  They bought thigh burner peep shows and drove down to the policemen amusement park.  The neon lights were all busted out after the government had supplied BB guns for the police force.  The force used to protect the country but them the police took advantage of their job benefits and took up residence in the government paid water parks.

            Recently, the police had ordered a ton of propylene glycol lemonade addition gelatin, the same type Angelo Buttrash used in his animal prints. As Horatio and Mr. Imnotsofat stepped over the barbed wire into the park they saw why.  The police people had turned the thigh burner peep show tunnel of self-love into a bouncy jello highway.

            “Do you want to get married?”  Bobbert’s question was so sudden but he sounded so serious that Horatio answered, “Yes.” And it was settled.            

Later that night, after all of the policemen retreated to their man caves, the two “lovers” went into the gelatinous tunnel together.  They got separate peep shows but just as the machines started up, McBillion’s machine started jerking violently, the video was glitching and the mechanical masturbator went on hyperdrive.

            Horatio screamed.  You would too if your sausage was being ripped off and shredded into itty bitty pieces.  Bobbert calmly locked the door to McBillion’s peep show and headed back to the McBillion Mansion.

            “You can come out friends.” Twelve people rolled out from under the furniture.  They wore garments that did not belong in Condomnation.  These people weren’t in fact from Condomnation, they came from a bordering country, Tanner’s Hedge.  The men and women were missionaries from St. Osbick’s Cathedral, thouroughly offended by the Priestcation relion they had come to put this species of disgustingly blasphemous and moronic humans into a place where their filthy existence would be silenced.

            “Role out.  Trombert, come with me, Minister Twee, lead us in music.  Goomfroth, just do whatever it is you do.”

            “But-”

            “Just do it!”

Minister Twee’s wind up harem began to trill.  Bobbert, who’s real name was Minister Organza went up into the delivary control room where trucks were waiting to deliver food to McResturants.

Load ‘em up.”  Organza hacked the system and sent Trambert to put the boxes of modified burgers into the trucks.

A modidfied baby had created the sterilizing concoction that never had a use until the Condomnatives’ smog began to irritate Hedgins as it spread across the boarder.  Their biplanes had advertised Priestcation religion in their nation and converted some of the Hedgins to Neo-abdi-ism. The Condomnatives had become a problem.  The sterilizing concoction would wipe out the population in Condomnation and soon enough, their last baby would be born. No new lives would be created.

Meanwhile McBillion was bleeding to death in the tunnel.  It was time for last resorts. He would not die this shameful way. He took a box from his coat pocket.  The sharp razor blades around the edge gleamed with lethal poison. He shoved it into his arm and let out a sigh of relief as he drifted into the next lifetime.