7/3/2015
Michael Knight: A young
loner on a crusade to champion the cause of the innocent, the helpless, the
powerless in a world of criminals who operate above the law. ---Knight Rider TV
series
1.
“Dude, is that the Hoff”
“The Hoff?”
“Yeah, motherfucker, is
that David Hasselhoff sitting at the other end of the bar?”
“Bro, I’m like 23. I
don’t even know who David Hasselhoff is. Get me another beer”
“He’s the guy on
Baywatch. You know, the show with Pamela Anderson! If you weren’t so young, you
would know that more importantly he was Michael Knight on the show, Knight
Rider. The car has artificial intelligence. The car is a Pontiac Firebird Trans
Am”
“Oh shit, son. That is
him. What the hell is he doing here?”
“I have no clue. Let’s go
see what he is up to”
“Word”
My friend “Skillet” and I were part of a large
contingency that was trying to make our way back home to Ramstein Air Base,
Germany. We were part of a C-130 unit that had just finished a 3 month deployment
to the country of Kosovo in a NATO humanitarian mission. Our C-130s were
diverted to Spangdalem Air Base, Germany because of bad weather at Ramstein,
which is only an hour and a half drive away. So the base put about 50 of us up
in the base hotel for the night, and a few of us cleaned up and found ourselves
over at the base enlisted club.
Now if you have been overseas and in the military very
long, you will know that the base enlisted clubs are nasty places to drink.
Sure they can be fun but as a military person they can be a lot of trouble as
well. Over here in Germany there are slot machines everywhere. Karaoke is going
on nearly every night of the week. There are usually a mirage of dancefloors
that will play every kind of music from hip hop to country. If it is a Friday
night and there is no Garth Brooks on the dancefloor with a bunch of red-neck
military members and off base strippers or prostitutes that they will probably
end up marrying, then call congress. We have lost the base to the enemy and need
reinforcements.
What makes these places so bad is that the military does
this catch 22 on you, especially if you’re a younger guy. The military is a
high stress environment but it’s also a culture of drinking yourself shitty to
let go and be yourself. It is also a culture where the slightest mistake on
your part could be punished severely. On the other hand, if you are well liked
by your superiors, mistakes can and will be swept under the rug.
I remember when I first enlisted, you would meet some of
the old salty dogs who have been in a while who have two to three DUI’s. Some
of those guys still made it far into their careers and when they retire, they
see the DUI as sort of a badge of honor. The problem is that it’s a gamble, and
as a young person just starting off in your career, a DUI could be a deal
breaker. The military is the only Job in America that has its own prison system
for its employees. Military Justice is more about keeping people in line rather
than just serving out society’s revenge on evil. Although that is also what
happens, the military is the largest tyranny on the planet. If it’s not done
their way, there is no highway. You find yourself crushed at the whim of your
superiors.
So here’s the catch with the enlisted clubs: there are
married woman all over them. Most of them are not wearing their wedding ring
because their husbands are deployed. For whatever reason, a ton of them are
Asian. I’m talking Filipino, Korean, Japanese, and Vietnamese. Then you had the
military wives of Army, Navy, Air Force and even Marines over there. With that
you have a large pot of people from all walks of life and educations. The
enlisted people brought out the best of the best. I’m being very sarcastic in
that.
Another reason to stay away from the enlisted clubs over
in Germany is because with all the gambling and ease at which to use your
credit cards, a lot of young people get into serious financial trouble.
Military members who travel will have in their possession a government travel
card that is only supposed to be used while on official business only. Well try
telling that to Private Pyle who comes from Shittown, Nebraska. He’s never been
off the farm for more than a month at a time and now he’s got a government
credit card that reports directly to his command any and all unauthorized
transactions. This includes all the beers, gambling and lap dances for the off
base strip clubs.
Now that you understand where I’m coming from, I need you
as my Knight Reader to know, that “Skittle, I and “The Hoff” were not going to
stay on this miserable base. I was going to go introduce myself and see what my
man was up to. And then we were going to go off base, get wasted and find us
some German chicks who liked the American boys. One confession: almost all the
German girls liked the American boys. Have you seen how ugly the local krouts
were? Plus, ever since World War two, they kind of saw us as heroes. The way I
saw it, it was time to go order us some more beers. Get out of my way,
Filipino!
2.
Ain’t nothing like it,
her shiny machine. Got the feel for the wheel, keep the moving parts clean. Hot
shoe, burnin’ down the avenue, got an on-ramp comin’ through my bedroom. ---Van
Halen. Panama
Talking to a man like David Hasselhoff is kind of an
awkward thing to do, especially when the guy is just sitting at the bar. There
was no entourage. There were no hot ladies surrounding him, vying for his
attention. He was this actor/singer kind of dude just chilling at the bar,
looking at some of the art work on the walls near the end of the bar.
I didn’t want to approach him and be like every other
tool that he must encounter: “Yo Hass, I’m your number one fan!” but I was
definitely curious as to his being here.
“How’s it going, Sir” I
thought approaching him respectfully would be the better approach.
“Hey, how are you? Let me
say to you, thank you for your service” I appreciated what the Hoff was
throwing at me, but I have to be honest when I say that it is always weird
hearing those words from any civilian. There is currently not a draft, and no
one held a gun to my head to do this and plus I think that it individually
brings attention to me that I would rather deflect to some real heroes. But
either way, I told him thank you for the kind words.
“Do you mind if I sit
down? This here is my bro “Skillet”. We just got back from Kosovo. We are stuck
on this miserable base, which begs us to ask you, what brings you here?”
“You guys are heroes.
Bros, I just finished a USO tour through-out Europe. We did our last show last
night up in Trier, so we figured we’d hang out for a few nights and check out
the sites.”
Trier is this beautiful city in Germany. The history is
so well maintained that you can still visit old Roman artifacts, as well as
medieval castles. I instantly knew the city that he was talking about. So we
had a decent conversation going, but I didn’t want to keep the man from going
about his business. In fact I kind of felt like we were already wearing out our
welcome. I took a shot of some Hennessey and just as I was about to wish him
well on the rest of his trip, he interrupted me.
“My man, sit down! I’ve
got to ask you guys some straight up questions. Why are the woman on the bases
so damn ugly? It’s like a damn plague around here. And where can we find some
hot, classy ladies?”
“Oh my god, dude. We were
just talking about trying to get out of this place. We are stuck on this base
until we can get a flight down to Ramstein. This place is surrounded by farms
and cows. The woman on base are most likely married. I wouldn’t have anything
to do with them.”
As a note to my readers, let me tell you a few stories
about why you don’t mess with the woman on base. They are trifling. I’ll give you a few examples. Imagine coming
home from Bosnia. You are in an Army peacekeeping force with NATO. Your whole
unit has just spent a year of their lives over in a shit-hole, devastated by
war, hellish place. You come home with this sort of chip on your shoulder, as if
the rest of the world owes you a debt of gratitude (hence why I don’t like
being thanked for my service). What you soon realize is that the rest of the
world was going on with their lives while you were out playing G.I. Joe. People
will “oooh” and “ahh” when you tell them your stories, but you will soon
realize that no one can relate at all to what you are talking about. It either
gets very awkward and you stop, or you become one of those veterans who is in a
sad state of affairs, when it becomes obvious that he/she can’t move on. The
former is the more commendable way to handle it.
That being said, even your military issued wife, will not
give a damn about what was going on in your life. I’m not saying all of them,
but for a majority of military members, the sad reality is that while they were
gone, Jody was coming around. Jody is the guy who takes care of your wife while
you were gone. Many times that guy is a treasonous acquaintance, or even a
member of your own unit.
I read about a story in the Stars and Stripes where the
member of that NATO force that I was speaking about found out that his wife was
sleeping with his best friend from his own unit. During morning formation, the
victim of this love triangle went and doused the Jody in this case with gasoline
and then set him on fire. The Jody didn’t dies, but he was left deformed and
with several first degree burns all over his body. The husband was then
court-martialed not only for attempted murder, but also for destruction of
government property. He was handed a sentence of over 30 years in the United
States Disciplinary Barracks at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas.
Another time while stationed at Ramstein, I heard a story
of similar events in which the husband found out that his wife was giving birth
to a child that was not his. He found the Jody in that case. As a special
forces troop, he proceeded to cut Jody’s head off with a 6 inch blade. He did
this in front of his whole unit, while the two were outside, and the rest of
the unit were inside the chow hall eating breakfast. There was a police chase,
but before he was captured, he was able to deliver the severed lover’s head to
his wife and tell her, “Fine, you want him, you can have him!” He was given a
life sentence for that murder. The rest of his life in a military prison all
over an ugly low class wife who was a no good. Tell me that is not pure hell.
So as a single man, with a little bit of wisdom, you can
understand why I was explaining to the Hoff, that we should stay the hell away
from any of the females on base.
“My man, that sounds
good. Check this out. My car is going to be parked out front here in about five
minutes. Take these keys and get ready to run with me. You see that painting on
the wall over there by the pool table?” I was really confused at this point.
“Well I’m going to finish
this beer, you guys will be in the car, and that painting is coming with us.
Let’s get the fuck out of this hell hole. I’m going to show you how the
big-Hoff does shit around here!”
Fuck it. Our night is about to get much better. The Hoff
has just told me to be the get-a-way driver for the thievery of a nice
painting. I like it. I think tonight is going to be alright. Just as I looked
over at “Skillet” and saw that he was equally delighted, I see the Hoff look at
his watch, and then utter these words into it:
“KITT, I need you to pull
up to the front door. Be ready for immediate evacuation with a painting in my
possession. I need you to have the trunk opened. I will be sending out two
other guys ahead of me. One goes by “Skittle”, the other goes by….” He looked
at me and realized he forgot to get my name. So I spoke into the watch,
thinking that the Hoff was drunk as hell and this was a game.
“Jissoseph”
“Ok, Jissoseph” repeated
the Hoff
At this point, Skillet and I were busting up laughing.
But then we heard a voice come from the watch, in its robotic tone
“I do believe it’s time
for a strategic withdrawal, Michael”
Holy shit. KITT just
spoke to the Hoff, but the Hoff can’t be Michael Knight from the hit TV show,
Knight Rider.
“You guys get going.
We’ll rendezvous with the mother-ship once we hit the auto-bahn.” He said.
Either I didn’t care anymore, or I was too drunk to know the difference between
really foolish behavior, and really really foolish behavior. Either way, we
were getting the fuck out of this place. Me and Skillet ran outside and there
it was…
3.
Now I’m smellin’ like
indo-nesia
Bus stop full of fly
bitches and skeezers
On my dick, cause my four
on hit
Pancake front and back,
side to side and all that shit. ---Dr. Dre. Let Me Ride
Skillet and I ran outside into a November night in
Germany. The snow was coming in at about a 60% angle in relation to the ground.
The wind was blowing slightly. Not enough to make you freeze, but enough to
make you want to get in front of a fireplace.
But better than a fireplace, we were standing in front of
a 1982 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am. The car was a complete black with a gold
firebird artistically painted over the entire hood. The tires were a thick
Daytona Style with perfectly white lettering on the wall of the tires. The
brakes were a bright and clean yellow that stood out. The sight of those tires
made me think of the Wizard of Oz, the yellow brick road. Follow the yellow brick road, this car was telling me.
The front of the car was majestically displayed with 4
fog lights under a set of regular driving lights. The heart of the car was in
the red light that moved like a wave in a football stadium crowd, moving back
and forth, left to right, right to left. You could almost hear the woosh woosh that would later emancipate
from under that hood, when all power would be set free.
As I was walking around the exterior of the car and
nearly losing myself all over the place, the window on the driver seat rolled
down and I heard that robotic voice that somehow had human emotion to it: “Well
are you going to get in?” I looked over at Skillet. His eyes were as wide as
mine. He shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “This is damn crazy, but let’s go
anyways”
So we got into the car. Skillet go into the back seat,
while I sat in the passenger seat.
“Welcome aboard
gentleman. I’m KITT which stands for Knight Industries Two Thousand. I’m a
highly advance cybernetic computer system on board this prestigiously built
Trans Am”
“Nice to meet you KITT.
I’m Joe and this is my buddy Skillet”
“Nice to meet you. Did
your parents actually give you those names? They are strange indeed. From the
camera surveillance around the immediate perimeter, I can see that Michael will
be joining us shortly. Please buckle up!”
Within a few minutes, Michael Knight was running out of
the enlisted club with what looked like the 3 foot by 4 foot painting. He had
actually pulled it off. Before he was even finished running down the stairs,
KITT had opened his rear trunk so that Michael tossed it in the trunk and was
in his seat in less than a minute.
“You ready boy? We’re
probably going to have a chase. They were screaming at me and threatening to
call the cops. I grabbed us a bottle of Hennessey to go along with the ride.
Stir it up, motherfuckers!” Michael pulled the bottle from outside of his
jacket and gave it to me. As Michael fastened his seatbelt, and slammed his
foot on the gas pedal, I opened the bottle and took the biggest swig before
passing it back to Skittle. He in turn took a swig and gave it back to Michael
who took a swig and then sat it in a bottle holder in between the driver and
passenger seat. We were now on the run.
4.
Billy Mack is a detective
down in Texas
You know he knows just
exactly what the facts is
He ain’t gonna let those
two escape justice
He makes his livin’ off
of the people’s taxes --- The Steve Miller Band. Take the Money and Run
Escaping Spangdalem Air Base was going to be no easy
feat. Maybe I was just imagining that all these military police in Humvees would
be tailing us, but I saw no such thing, up close anyways. As the night quickly
approached, I saw red and blue flashing lights that would traverse through the
middle of the wilderness. The photons of authority might have been in hot
pursuit, but they never came close.
Meanwhile, KITT turned off all of the exterior lights, to
include the flashing red light in the middle of the front bumper section. All
the inner lights were functioning. The dashboard was an array of red lights
with dark console surrounding them. The console almost seemed to envelope or
wrap around Mr. Michael Knight. Everything read in digital numbers from the
miles per hour, the rpms, the engine temperature, you name it. There was an
advanced GPS system. The car had emergency seat ejection capabilities. KITT was
able to do all of the driving while Michael was able to man the on star
computing system through which he could video communicate, connect to the
internet, look up criminals and coordinates.
The base was nothing short of wooded areas of tall trees,
off roads and highly traveled lines of communications. Until we reached the
gate, we navigated without any lights, through the heavily wooded section, not
so much getting a scratch on the car. As we approached the gate, and came out
of nowhere onto the paved road, there were already tire spikes laid across the
road. We could see that the entrance was sealed off. I would love to say that
we did things in an un cliché kind of way, but we didn’t; the tires ran
completely over the spikes without getting a flat. KITT was spewing out smoke
from his rear to throw off any pursuing vehicles, and to get over the concrete barricades
that were erected for this part of the trip, KITT used some rockets in the
shocks kind of trick to bounce the whole car 10 feet in the air as we cleared
the barriers and made our way out the gate. Nice to see you, assholes! And we
were off.
We must have drove for 20 minutes, screaming down the
autobahn, without any of our lights on. KITT drove the car while Michael was
video-conferencing with his boss, Devon Miles, who was giving him the details
of our next assignment. We were to head north for a little over an hour into
the city of Cologne and investigate the hooker establishment of a place called,
Pascha. Michael, Skillet and I were to check out if indeed there was legal
prostitution going on at this high end brothel, and bring back a report of
average prices. It was a serious mission for some serious men.
“So Michael, why do you
do these kinds of things? Why did you steal that painting, and why are we going
to a brothel? I mean, I’m not complaining, but I thought you were part of a
worldwide crime fighting unit.”
“I am. The painting was
reported stolen from the art exhibit in Millan, Italy, nearly 25 years ago. I
did not come to that base to sing to lonely military members or see their ugly
wives. We had been eying that piece for years now. It’s worth well over 6
million. It was painted during the height of the renaissance.”
“Ok, so what about the
brothel? There have been brothels in Germany for hundreds of years. It’s
actually an active part of the German economy as it is state regulated”
“What you don’t hear
about is some of those woman have highly prestigious criminal careers. We’re
looking for someone we call agent 6969. Interpol lists her at the top ten most
wanted criminals around the world. She’s wanted in a string of mafia killings, extortion,
government bribery and other things that I cannot tell you about. You boys are
going to help me find her. In fact, I’m giving you an allowance and a job of
meeting as many as you can tonight in the hopes of finding the one I tell you
to look for.”
“How will we know it’s
her?”
“You will not be needing
to find her. She will find you and she will have something very different from
the other prostitutes, that when she finds you, you will know without a doubt
that it is the person that we are looking for.”
“This shit is getting
crazy, homey” I replied.
In the meantime I asked KITT if he could put on some good
music. I asked if he could continue to drive through the night with no lights
on because it was awesome to see the fear and panic in the other drivers face
as they were passed by a high speeding car with no lights on. KITT was happy to
oblige.
At this point I began to think of my life. One day I’m on
a humanitarian mission with the United States military. The next day I’m in a
car with Michael Knight, traveling to cities in search of international
criminals. I know eventually I could have to face the music for the path that
my life is following now. Could I ever return to the military? Does the
military even know or think that it is me in the get-a-way car that stole an
old piece of Italian painting? Maybe me and Skillet could just take this trip
for the night and see what happens. Worst case scenario is that we can leave
Michael and catch a bus to our home base and say that we went AWOL in search of
booze and woman. Either way, the next few hours were going to be fun. We were
about to get the best present a man can imagine; hooker money.
5.
Walked in, said, “This is
a robbery”
Didn’t need the money,
it’s just a hobby
Fill the bag, homeboy,
don’t lag
I want money, beer, and a
pack of zig-zags ---Eazy E. No More ?’s
It was about 130 in the morning when we pulled into the
city of Cologne, Germany. I remember looking over at Michael, slowly coming out
of a drunken sleep, to see his eyes fixed on the computer system. He was
wearing his slickest black leather jacket. He was hiting the gas pedals in only
the most debonair style of Italian boots. In all of his 1980’s glory, he was
illuminated by the lights of KITT’s intricate computer system, all the while,
Michael Knight, kept it real in only the best 1980’s blue jeans with belt
buckle and moose-knuckle. I was thinking I could tell the man to get more with
the 2010’s, but who am I to tell another grown man how to live his life.
Instead I looked out my window and realized that we were in the German city of
sex.
“Guten Morgan Herr
Jissoseph. Gucken am alles StrassenFrauen”
Michael said to me.
“Oh Gute Zier Danke, So
fielen Arch” I replied.
Michael was damned right. We were in the middle of hooker
central. Cologne was the fourth largest city in Germany, and probably on the
top ten cities in Europe for its street working girls. The most famous brothel
was a place called, Pascha. But in the meantime, there were street walking
girls everywhere. Pascha is considered the biggest brothel in Europe, and it is
open 24 hours a day. The German government regulates and taxes the sex trade
industry, as it also tests and monitors the businesses very closely. We were
driving straight into the neon shaped heart of Europe to look for a criminal.
A street hooker will pay a government official an
“amusement” tax. They usually pay this either at the hotel where they rent
rooms, or in parking meters outside, near to where they conduct their business.
The city has an “Off limits” clause that determines the boundaries and the
hours at which street workers can be outside. So pretty much, this is a man’s
heaven. There is no stigma with letting loose with the ladies, as long as you
were respectful and paid your dues.
As we were rounding out the last five minutes of the
drive in a quest to find a place to park, Michael laid down the plan for me and
Skillet.
“Ok gentleman. Once we
park, you two are going in with a pocket full of money and the other pocket
full of condoms. We have satellite evidence that our culprit is working inside
the brothel. We just don’t know which one of the twelve floors of the
hooker-dormitory she is in. That’s where you two come in”
“How much money and how
many condoms?” I asked. At this point, out of KITT’s mainframe computer, there
started flowing lines of condoms, as long as the car itself. It was like
winning tickets at the local game theme park. There was one stack for me and
there was one stack for Skillet.
“I’m going to give you
enough euros to equal about 5000$ each. You boys go in there, have as much fun
as you can, until you find Agent 6969.”
“How will we know when we
find her?” asked Skillet.
“We don’t have that intel
right now. Just know that this one hooker is going to be very different from
the rest. In fact, when you find our target, there will be no doubt in your
mind”
At this I asked Michael,
“Do you want us to take her down, restrain her, what do you want us to do?”
“I’ll be in the car with
KITT monitoring your progress. Each of you take one of these watches!” at that
he handed both Skillet and me a simple looking watch that you can get at any
cheap Walmart back in the United States. “When you find the target, press the
little red button, and talk into the microphone. I’ll have direct communication
with you. From there, I’ll be coming inside and we’ll restrain our victim
then.”
At this point, I’m getting very nervous. I have all this
money to have fun inside, but I know that along with the fun is some real
danger. We’re about to enter a glorified 5 floor apartment complex with nothing
but hookers inside. And then we are supposed to arrest some mafia killing sex
machine. Oh my God, I’m so going to die or find myself in a German prison with
a dirty German guy named, Wolfgang, as my cellmate.
“Fuck it, let’s do it I
guess.” I said
“No, you can’t fucking
guess on some shit like this. You can’t fucking puss out. I know you’d rather
go back to your American base so you can live your boring normal life, maybe
marry the first ugly stripper that will have anything to do with your dumbass,
and then have 5 kids before she leaves you for your brother back home in the
United States. Or you can shut the fuck up, grab those hairy balls of yours,
and go have some fun while we also administer some Justice in this place.”
After he said that, there was a pause for what seemed liked 20 seconds going on
20 years. I then held out my hand to Michael without looking at him and not a
second later I felt and heard the slap of large European bills laid upon my
palms.
“It’s all about bitches
and bills, homies! Sometimes we got to do some fucked up shit to put the steaks
in the freezer. Now go get your asses in there and get us some steaks. When you
see the target, don’t fucking let on that you know it’s her. Just go about your
business as the usual horny American kids who have come up for nothing short of
sex drugs and rock and roll. This is going to be easy. If you have any
problems, you have the watches to get a hold of me.”
With that, I opened the car door and stepped out into the
cool German breeze. I held the door open as KITT folded the seat forward and
Skillet climbed out. Afterwards, I looked in at Michael, I shook his hand and
bro-fisted him, and gave him my assurance that we would not let him down. KITT
gave us his own farewell: “Gentleman, we’ll see you in the whorehouse. I bid
you a dieu”
6.
I like the way the line
runs up the back of their stockings.
I’ve always liked those
kind of high heels too.
No no no no, don’t take
em off…Leave em on, leave them on
Yeah, that’s it. A little
more to the right ---Van Halen. Everybody Wants Some
What can be said about the Pascha Nightclub that could
not be said about the Muslim idea of paradise? A man commits the ultimate
sacrifice for his religion, and in exchange he enters eternal bliss with 70
young virgin. Well I doubt that any of these woman were virgins, but the
hedonism in this building comes to a close second as far as bliss goes.
On the first floor I discovered that there is an actual
nightclub with sex stages. The night that we entered the club, it was lesbian
night and the two main stages were occupied by three lovely European woman
giving each other messages and oral sex. As a man, I must explain to you that
you don’t come to a place like Pascha without first having masturbated at home
at least five or six times. Otherwise you’re barely going to get inside the
door and you’ll be “that guy” with the wet spot on the front of your pants.
“Oh, I was in the restroom earlier, and I got a little soap on my dick as I was
washing my hands. I don’t want the ladies to get any germs on them” Keep those
excuses to yourself, bud.
After the first floor, there are no less than 9 other
floors of hallways in which hookers sat on comfy heart shaped and padded
chairs, eagerly awaiting to make your acquaintance as they sit in stockings,
high heels, garters belts, tight bras and that is about it. For about 30 euros,
you can take your pick of any of these lovely ladies and get what is called a
“Quickie” with either an episode of oral sex or a quick wham bam thank you
ma’am.
The final top floors were reserved for VIP, extreme kink,
group sex, and then finally, your freaks of nature. Skillet and I decided that
we were going to hit every floor on our way to the top, son, and no one was
going to hold us back. We both had enough money to pretty much sleep with all
the girls with whom we enjoyed. What we did was work our way up from the second
floor up to the top floor. I would work the rooms on the north side of the
hallway, while Skillet would work the south side of the hallway.
The plan got kind of ridiculous after we each made it
through about three rooms. As a man, the sexual stimulation in your penis just
can’t regenerate itself both that quickly or that often. We had a dilemma.
“Dude, I just had two
girls at once. We’re not even done with the first hallway and I’m like over
this. I want to go home and play video games now” I said.
“Bro, you know the minute
we leave, our dicks will kick back in and then our conscience will want to kick
our asses as it discovers that we will never ever get this chance again. We
have to force ourselves to fuck as many of these chicks as possible. Plus they
are very sweet to me, I don’t know about you. I have never been treated like
such a king.” Said the wise on, Skillet.
“This is going to take us
too long. Let’s go up to the top floor and see if we can get in on some of the
groupie action or something. I doubt a high profile mafia hitman is going to
belittle herself by working in the individual sex hallways that we have been
in. I bet she will be with the VIPs.” Said me
“Yeah, that sounds like a
plan. Let’s go up there. I love these ladies.”
“I love them too”
So that’s what we did. I don’t even know why we needed
pants in this place. Both I and Skillet had sex with about five other girls
before we even reached the top VIP section. It must have been over 2 hours of
us just fucking around, literally, as we made our way to the top. We didn’t
give a fuck about Michael or catching this hitman, agent 6969. We were just two
young guys enjoying something we would one day be old men telling the young
guys about. From here forth, we would compare every sexual relationship to this
night. We would forever be doomed to hearing a woman either belittle us, try to
manipulate us, argue with us or even tell us to take out the trash, and in the
back of our minds, we would always come back to this place; the place where we
were kings for a night.
We eventually made it to the orgy rooms. We partook in a
few orgies. We eventually made it to the freaky rooms. We partook in some
freaky stuff. Please don’t sit down on that furniture; there may be sex juices
all over that footstool, I apologies. But there was a room. And there was a
religious, moral, and otherwise blasphemy that was occurring in this natural
kingdom. I could understand that all men have their different tastes. I can
understand that all men have their kinks. But this was way out of line and way
uncalled for.
There was a stage on this very top floor. It was one of
five stages. On the other stages were 4 normal girls doing stripper dance. That
middle stage should have been destroyed a long time ago. On this stage was a
thing. It was incased in a circular glass prism in which the dance was held
captive, but the glass was perfectly clear for all to see. I assume there of
course was a door to this madness, but that was not the issue.
The issue was that the dance had both a penis and a
vagina. All the music in the background suddenly went quiet inside my head. I
heard only mumbled voices, laughs, and shouts. Time went slowly as well. It was
as if my life was flashing before my eyes. This Greek goddess was no goddess at
all, but a dancer who was looking straight at me while (it) was slapping its
penis up against the glass mirror. (It) was also sucking on its large breasts.
(It) also had the most beautiful face that I had ever seen. I was noxious. I
was about to get sick. I fell to my knees as this being had me transfixed in
its gaze. Continually (It) would rub its body in ecstasy, suck on (its) breasts
and bang the hell out of that glass with its penis. I’m surprised that the
penis was not exploded by now…….(It)…Was…Agent….69…69…
It was time to call Michael. And then I am, going to kill
him.
7.
Holly came from Miami,
F.L.A.
Hitch-hiked her way
across the USA
Plucked her eyebrows on
the way
Shaved her legs and the
he was a she
She says, “Hey babe, take
a walk on the wild side”
She said, “Hey honey,
take a walk on the wild side.” ---Lou Reed. Take a Walk on the Wild Side
Skillet walked down the hallway into this infamous scene
of mine; me on my knees transfixed at such an ignoble site of titties and cock.
It was a sad event for Skillet as well. He walked in and noticed me in my
submissive position, and was of the correct state of mine to wonder if I had
lost my mind, but soon he would fall for it. It was like the movie, The Clash
of the Titans, when Perseus and some of his comrades went into the Greek temple
to find, fight and cut off the head of Medusa. Some of those soldiers turned
instantly into stone at one gaze from the magical eyes of Medusa. Agent 696 was
this Medusa. We had to cut off her head, but in this case, Medusa was slamming
her/his little head up against the glass in a futile attempt to gain sexual
loyalty.
“Skillet, tell me that is
not Agent 6969?” I cried out in horror.
“Bro, let’s calmly get
the fuck out of here. We need to make the call to Michael. This is definitely
different from all the other girls in the building.”
We calmly rose to our knees, walked backwards towards the
end of the hallway as if we had some other business to attend to. With those
hideous eyes on that gorgeous face, Agent 6969 kept her/his eyes on us. Now
instead of sucking on its breasts, she/he now began to give felatio to her
right hand middle finger, all the while staring at us in a plea to gain back
our attention. I think I began to throw up in my mouth at that point. We turned
around and ran.
“Michael, we have found
agent 6969” I cried into my watch.
“Copy that, I’m also on
the top floor, in the orgy room.” He responded. What the fuck? He can’t be up
here too. He should have seen this.
“Ok, we’ll be there in a
minute.” Skillet responded into his watch.
When we walked into the first orgy room, there was
Michael Knight. He was laying on one of the couches, getting oral sex from two
blond German chicks. One of the girls made a fuss about us not respecting their
privacy or knocking on the door. Michael said something in German to her and
then threw a blanket over both of their heads. “Don’t worry about it Fraus,
these gentleman are with me. Tell me boys, what do you got?”
At this point, Michael is drinking some whiskey from a
shot glass with a blanket draped over his lap, in which I can see two heads
bobbling up and down. Of course you can hear the sucking sounds as well.
Michael is not wearing any emotions at this point; getting head while talking
about crime. It’s strictly business, baby. Strictly business.
“Where the fuck have you
been this whole time? We didn’t even know you were in the building. Agent 6969
is just down the hall. We have to get him…errr her…” said Skillet
“Yo, I know you military
boys. I know you have a knack for marrying ugly woman. I needed to fall back
and watch from a distance. I didn’t want to be cursed by you boys and
accidently fuck something ugly”. Wow, we have just been thoroughly insulted by
Michael Knight.
“Go fuck yourself, dude.
Tell those chicks not to give you AIDS under that blanket there. We’re fucking
out of here.” I said to Michael after I had had enough of his shit talk.
I told Skillet, that this lone-wolf crime fighter could
go to hell. So we left the room. I told Skillet that it was time for us to make
a run for it and get back to the base, which was probably 3 hours away. We had
enough cash to bang a couple more chicks and find a train station that would
get us home. We were going to have to use our SERE training to get back to the
base and not fall under the custody of Michael. We were about to steal his
money.
Michael wasted no time in lighting up a cigarette, taking
a few more shots of whiskey, and letting the two German hookers finish what he
paid for. Then Michael got up, got dressed, loaded his 45 pistol, and walked
out the room towards the stage where agent 6969 was cleaning up his/her work
area as it was about time to end its shift.
Agent 6969 knew right away there was trouble. She grabbed
her clothes, and began to run down the hallway in nothing but heels, stockings
and a bra with a Prada bag full of her normal clothes of jeans, boots and a
sweater. Michael wasn’t about to shoot anyone in a crowded business. As agent
6969 was running down the hall, Michael looked over at the stage and saw what a
dildo under no possession of anyone. He grabbed this long, black, veiny,
triumphant of a bastard and prepared to do some damage. Release the Kraken would have been the appropriate mood as Michael
threw it as hard as he could. He scored a direct hit on the back of the head of
agent 6969. She/he came falling down like a bag of bricks. Michael calmly
walked down the hallway. He removed the handcuffs from his back pocket, and put
agent 6969 under arrest.
Girls everywhere were screaming. Michael spoke German to
them. He told them he was “Der Polizie” and he flashed them his badge, which
was fake of course because Michael did not operate under the normal authority
of men. He picked up agent 6969 and walked with it to the elevator. From there
he called KITT to meet him in the front of the building in 10 minutes. He had
arrested the target with no injuries or casualties. Well I guess you can call
the dildo to the head an injury, but agent 6969 was not going to need any
hospitalization, besides to complete a sex change, but that is another story.
“KITT, we have two AWOL
Airman on our hands. They took off with the rest of their money, and I
guarantee you that they are running for the base. They have nowhere else to go,
so we need to go find them.”
“Michael, I have several
high tech applications and programs at your disposal, to find them. Be on the lookout
for ugly woman. It is common knowledge that they will most likely find
themselves in the arms of society’s trashy woman who are looking for their
ticket to the big BX in the sky”
“Exactly. Run a check on
all the local bars, trailer parks, or welfare offices where woman with
government-cheese-asses are the norm. We’ll find these bastards, get them back
in the car, and educate them on the bliss of higher class and more beautiful
woman, even if it kills me.”
That was the conversation that Michael had with KITT,
once he restrained agent 6969 in the backseat of the Firebird. Agent 6969 was
still kind of groggy and not coherent.
8.
Whoa, I thought it was a
nightmare
Lord it was so true
They told me don’t go
walking slow
The Devil’s on the loose
Better run through the
jungle
Better run through the
jungle
Better run through the
jungle
Whoa, don’t look back to
see ---Credence Clearwater Revival. Run Through the Jungle
Well Jissoseph and Skillet did not run to the nearest
bar, trailer park or welfare office. They were able to catch the first train
that morning leaving from Cologne, Germany, to Bonn, Germany. It was only a 45
minute train ride to the nearest big city. Jissoseph and Skillet knew that they
needed to get as much space between them and the Knight Rider, as quickly as
possible. They could either catch a train from Bonn to Frankfurt, or then from
Frankfurt, to their home military base of Ramstein, Germany, the following
afternoon. Or what they could do what they have been trained to do in the
military, and that was to call in a helicopter and evade capture, using their
Survival, Evade, Resistance and Escape (SERE) skillset that they have acquired
from their time in the military. They chose to do the later, from their place
in Bonn, Germany.
They found a German military surplus store once they
arrived in the city of Bonn. From there, they were able to acquire a compass,
GPS, PRC-112 radio to get a hold of the Command Post out at Ramstein. They
purchased German uniforms, camouflage make-up, food provisions (MRE’s), weapons
of all sorts, back packs, ponchos to sleep in, toiletries, assorted night
vision equipment, maps, pencils, and water purification tablets. They were well
on their way for a journey of survival.
They set up came 100 yards outside in the forests, about
2 miles from another local brothel. After purchasing all their survival items,
they still have money to play with. Hello ladies! Once they got settled in for
the night, they initiated contact with the base Command Post.
“Ramstein Command Post,
this is team Ugly Wife, over. Ramstein Command Post, this is team Ugly Wife,
over. Ramstein Command Post, this is team Nerf-Dildo, over.” Was my
communication to the nearest American frequency, which I knew to be Ramstein
Air Base, Germany.
“Team Ugly Wife, this is
Ramstein Command Post, over”
“Yes Sir, This is team
November Echo Romeo Foxtrot Delta India Lima Delta Oscar (Nerf-Dildo), over. We
are located outside of coordinates 50.1167 North. 8.6833 East. Our position is
vector two hundred kilometers to the northeast of said coordinates. We have
zero casualties, zero injuries and request immediate airlift, over”
“Copy that, team
Nerf-Dildo. We have good communication. Stand by while we locate your position,
over”
“Copy, standing by, over”
While we were standing by, we were in the cover of fallen
trees in which we had additionally covered ourselves with pines, leaves,
bushes, and other forest debris. It would take a few moments for Command post
to first get our position, figure out who we were, and then decide if they were
going to send a rescue. In the mean time we heard noises from about 200 feet
from our position. It was nothing short of one of the local prostitutes about
to give one of her customers a good moment of oral sex. Skillet almost blew our
cover as he aimed his m-9 at the intruders. I had to stop him, so I quietly sat
behind him and whispered in his ear.
“What the fuck are you
doing? If you shoot at them, you will either give away our position or you will
kill them and we’ll spend the rest of our lives making big rocks into little
rocks at Fort Leavenworth. Drawn down, you dumb motherfucker”
Skillet holstered his weapon. He quietly put his back
against a fallen tree, opened up some of his spam to eat and then bitched about
our plight.
“I wanted that hooker
later. I was just going to shoot that John so that at the end of tonight, I
won’t go to sleep knowing that I was sloppy seconds.” Said Skillet
“I’m going to fucking
pistol-whip you if you don’t stop fucking around. We might not even get a
chance to play around by the time they tell us where the rally point is.” I
said
Bonn was probably a 3 hour drive from our home base. By
chopper, it would probably take us about 45 minutes or less to get there. Just
as I was thinking about this and reviewing the map, the radio came back on with
live communication.
“Team Nerf-Dildo, this is
the base commander. I’ve received word of your intentions and want you to know
that once you have been airlifted to home station, you will immediately report
to my office, over”
“Yes, General, report to
your office immediately. Understood and acknowledged, over” I said.
“If don’t see your lovely
faces today, my next duty will be to coordinate a general courts-martial for
the both of you. I will have a hard on to send you to the brig with no rank, no
freedom, and no more pussy, ever. Do you fuck-faces understand me?”
“Loud and clear sir,
over”
“Good, I will put Command
Post back on the frequency. Tell them where you are so we can come get you,
over”
“Copy, over.”
Fuck
me in the goat ass, we were already in so much trouble. I’m thinking that the
painting that Michael Knight stole was worth much more than our asses were. It
was either that or we were busted for being AWOL. Either way, the General was
not too pleased with us.
“This is Command Post. We
will have a chopper to the northeast of your position within the next half
hour. Once you gain communication with the Chopper, they will proceed to ask
for verification info and will want you to set a smoke flare. From there you
will vector them in for landing. We’ll see you at the base, gentleman, over.”
“Copy, wait for
evacuation, set out flares, verify authenticity information and then vector in
chopper, over.”
9.
You know I’m a dreamer
But my heart’s of gold
I had to run away high
So, I wouldn’t come home
low
Just when things went
right
Doesn’t mean their always
wrong
Just take this song and
you’ll never be
Left all alone
Take me into your heart
Feel me in your bones
Just one more night
And I’m coming off this
Long and winding road
I’m on my way, I’m on my
way
Home sweet home, tonight
tonight
I’m on my way, I’m on my
way
Home sweet home ---Motley
Crue. Home Sweet Home
What Skillet and myself were clueless to recognize was
that as soon as we had attempted communications with the base, KITT had
instantly tracked down our location. KITT and Michael Knight were on their way
to Bonn, via the autobahn within moments. They were able to pull up to a semi-trailer
command station. The trailer opened up, dropped its skids, and KITT drove up
the skids and into the moving trailer, to drop off agent 6969.
Devin Miles, or the leader of FLAGG, the organization for
the world justice league, was there to give Michael not only his
congratulations, but also the go ahead to come and capture Skillet and myself.
Within five minutes, KITT and Michael were back on the autobahn, and tracking
us down.
KITT was able to track us to within five feet of our
exact location, in the woods behind the brothel house. As they made their way
off the autobahn, and into the clearing for which they knew that the only
possibility of helicopter extraction, they witnessed two men in uniforms with
two ugly prostitutes running towards a helicopter that they had just vectored
into their location. KITT jammed the radio frequency between the chopper, and
Jissoseph. KITT also sent a flare up to the helicopter which created a
mechanical jam, forcing the helicopter to abandon rescue and return to base or
be forced to crash land. That’s when KITT pulled up next to the foursome. From
there, Michael rolled down the window and had some words with the escapees.
“Are you boys needing a
lift? And when I say boys, I mean get rid of the ugly chicks. You see, this is
why I was afraid to go inside the club in Cologne with you. I knew you military
guys always have a propensity for ugly chicks. Now get inside, and make sure
you don’t get any diseases on KITT. He has multiple complex functions which
could be effected.”
I knew at this point we were toast. We just lost the
helicopter. KITT was onto us the whole time, and Michael had just pointed out
that we are doomed for ugly woman, and he was right. These hoes ain’t loyal or
beautiful. Plus, Michael had a gun pointing at us. So me and Skillet turned to
the ugly prostitutes for whom we may have eventually married, had five kids
with, and one day come home to have nothing left in the house but ice-trays.
Michael was one convincing mother-fucker. We got into the car.
We drove off with the dust kicking up behind us. We were
on the autobahn for about ten minutes before I conjured up enough courage to
speak.
“Are you taking us to
base” I asked
“Well, the only other
option is to take you before the European tribunal with probably five or six
crimes against you. Those would include impending the investigation of a major
crime, false imprisonment as you meant to take those ugly hookers home with
you, Theft of government property for taking the money I have given you,
resisting arrest, impersonation, and maybe even a couple more, who knows! Or
you guys can go back to base, deal with your shit, and come back to work for me
again. Although I hold the ugly woman against you, you guys have balls,
survival skills, and I kind of like you guys.” Said Michael
“They are going to hammer
us once we get to base. We might not be working for anyone except the
chain-gang out at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, by the time they get done with us.”
“Well that’s a real
fucking bummer. My boss has already determined that that may be the
possibility. He’s given his word, that if you take me up on my offer, we’ll be
the ones to pick you up outside of the prison gates, upon your release. Who
knows, maybe it will just be a slap on the wrist for you guys and when the
military is done with your services, you can come to work for us anyways.
Either way, it’s a win/win situation for you two boys.”
“Well that does sound
like a pretty sweet deal. Just drop us off at the Ramstein gate. Once we tell
the gate guard who we are, we can get a hold of the General and go from there.”
“I think we can do that.
Me and KITT will know how to get a hold of you. Gentleman, it’s been fun.”
For the next couple of hours as we drove through the
German countryside, KITT played some of our favorite music from the 1980’s.
Michael was doing some of his own research on the computer mainframe. Skillet
and I contemplated our futures. We knew our ass was grass. But we also knew
that we chose not to live boring lives. To us, we had agreed that we would have
rather died from passion than to live with boredom.
10.
Once we were 50 feet outside the base, KITT pulled off
the road and we each said our goodbyes for now. Skillet and I walked towards
the gate and were immediately welcomed with armed guards who ordered us to lay
down on our faces as they held machine guns aimed at us. They quickly arrested
us and transported us by Humvee with a top loaded 50 caliber machine gun and
gunner on the top. I was almost certain that the General himself was going to
kill us. He of course debriefed for two days. We spilled the beans about it
all. I thought for certain we were now going to be prisoners of the United
States government for the remainder of our lives.
After the two days of interrogations, we were instead
asked some odd questions from the General.
“Where is this Pascha
adult nightclub? What are the hours? Can you tell me where to get one of those
German uniforms so that I can go see it for myself?”
That was it. We never
heard from the General again. We were never Court-Martialed. We did indeed hear
from Michael Knight and the Knight Rider. We did indeed go on more journeys
like he had promised us. Thank you for reading my story. I, the Knight-Writer,
Jissoseph, am out.
The End…………………………….
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