Bamboo
Predator Press
[LOBO]
“Sir,” asks the lady behind the Democratic Headquarters desk, “May I help you?”
I say nothing.
“Sir,” she says in a more authoritative tone. “I’m going to call Security. Why exactly are you hiding in the corner dressed like a shrub?”
Thinking quickly, I says, “I’m a Bamboo.”
“I saw you getting off of the elevator.”
A pause.
I tilt the top of the tree forward, leaning into her confidingly, “I really doubt that.”
“I’m calling Security,” she says finally.
“On a Bamboo plant explicitly not trying to gain sensitive information for the Republican party?”
She looks at me sternly.
“That’s a very nice Mullet, by the way.”
“Pig!” she screams while blowing the air horn, punctuated occasionally by her silver whistle.
“No!” I scream reassuringly at the Godless whore. “Bamboo!”
[LOBO]
“Sir,” asks the lady behind the Democratic Headquarters desk, “May I help you?”
I say nothing.
“Sir,” she says in a more authoritative tone. “I’m going to call Security. Why exactly are you hiding in the corner dressed like a shrub?”
Thinking quickly, I says, “I’m a Bamboo.”
“I saw you getting off of the elevator.”
A pause.
I tilt the top of the tree forward, leaning into her confidingly, “I really doubt that.”
“I’m calling Security,” she says finally.
“On a Bamboo plant explicitly not trying to gain sensitive information for the Republican party?”
She looks at me sternly.
“That’s a very nice Mullet, by the way.”
“Pig!” she screams while blowing the air horn, punctuated occasionally by her silver whistle.
“No!” I scream reassuringly at the Godless whore. “Bamboo!”
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