FanStory.com - The Book of Biden by SimianSavant

Blocked by the manchin'
of too much pork and cookies,
Biden's bill won't pass

Author Notes Satirical author notes redacted until after the contest is over, so as not to reveal my identity. Manchin is Biden's primary obstacle to ramming his spending bill through America's colon.

Chapter 2
Afghani Love Affair

By SimianSavant

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of sexual content.

GRAPHIC SEXUAL CONTENT WARNING
This is your chance to turn back!

An Afghani sheep known as Venus
had compunctions regarding her genus
so she took psilocybin
and up showed Joe Biden
who offered a ride on his p3nis.

"It's Valentine's Day"! She declined,
"I was hoping to be wined and dined
so before we go play,
please say that you'll stay,
and then you can grab my behind."

"That ain't gonna happen," said Joe,
"And I'm the one running the show;
now get down on your knees
and get ready to please
your favorite old Uncle Joe!"

Poor Venus she tried to resist
the President's one-sided tryst;
he came with a shout
and promptly pulled out
but she now needs a proctologist.

Author Notes

TERMS USED:
Compunction: a feeling of guilt or moral scruple that prevents or follows the doing of something bad

Genus: subspecies, one level up from species (Domain > Kingdom > Phylum > Class > Order > Family > Genus > Species)

Psilocybin: a naturally occurring psychedelic compound produced by mushrooms

Tryst: a private romantic rendezvous between lovers

Proctologist: a medical specialist dealing with conditions of the gastrointestinal tract (particularly the colon and anus)

------------------

ABOUT THIS POEM:
A writing contest about Valentine's Day wouldn't be complete without a love story that ended in betrayal. This lovely limerick (a work of satire, folks, not to imply that Biden literally practices bestiality) is about Joe Biden's breaking of his promises in Afghanistan and leaving millions of Afghani women, who had experienced two decades in which they could vote and receive higher education, to be raped and imprisoned. They live with this every day, and not just on Valentine's Day.

Contest rules state that any type of poem is accepted, so I went for it. This is a tasteless poem about a tasteless act of betrayal by the US of its international commitments.

Image created from prompt and rendered by arcanalabs.ai

Chapter 3
Homage

By SimianSavant

Hey, I bought your vote.
Now bow down and worship me,
Millennial scum!

Author Notes Cancelling debt is not the purview of the US Executive Branch of government, and it's paid for by everyone who didn't go into debt for their education.

Chapter 4
Suffer the Little Children

By SimianSavant

While children count sheep,
all night long

Biden has them raped

Author Notes
April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month.

April 2nd (the day this was written) is Sexual Assault Day of Action.

I discovered the above AFTER writing this piece, which was spontaneously conceived and written just after midnight on the 2nd -- evidence enough to me that this piece was supernaturally inspired, so there will be no apologies for posting it as written. Sorry, Biden fans. You need to know the truth about Biden's Afghanistan fiasco, which left millions of Afghani girls and women to be raped and enslaved. Today, Biden still refuses to admit that he did anything wrong, and the press seems to have mostly forgotten about it.

This picture, obviously, is created by AI and is not real or depict a real child. Produced by the author using Dezgo, an uncensored AI image creation engine.

Other works on Biden:
Afghani Love Affair
Homage
Constipated

Other works on Trump:
DJT is up
Party Pooper
Jaws

Chapter 5
The Executive Assistant

By SimianSavant

5 years ago

While at the first round interview today for the new job I'd been after for ages, I met the most charming lady.

There were 20 of us to start with, in two groups of ten. I was pretty confident from my decades of experience, and being the gentleman I am, thinking she would play nice, I treated her with kid gloves during the group interview. At the least expected moment, she landed quite a blow that left me reeling. But this ended up making me like her all the more. If I get the job, I'm gonna remember this foxy lady. She seems to have spunk, and it makes me feel alive.

4 years ago

It's been a long and drawn out process for the cushy executive position I've been applying to, but it's in the final stretch. I'm one of the final two candidates now. I called up the foxy lady from last year who showed me up in that first-round interview and asked if she would be my executive assistant if I won the job. After asking some questions about my medical history, which seemed a little funny, she accepted.

3 1/2 years ago

I got the job. It was very close, but I called in some special favors and managed to knock out my competitor for the position. It's been a very busy first week. My gorgeous new assistant suggested we hire a hypnotist at the office, just for fun. More later.

3 years ago

There's been a lot of drama and criticism of my experience at work lately, even from my closest supporters, who accuse me of abandoning my principles. They're wrong, and I never make mistakes. But I can't quite remember what actually happened.

The new pills my assistant K's been giving me feel great though. I see rainbows and chocolate smiles whenever I take them, and my troubles melt away. I sent K on a trip to Paris as a reward. Now, if only I could remember where I put those codes.

2 1/2 years ago

More challenges at work today. A major competitor is trying to acquire one of our customers. I was going to take some action on it, but K told me it was under control, and increased the med doses I've been taking. Everything feels even better now.

2 years ago

We've been letting in lots of unqualified candidates to our organization lately and I tasked K to look into it. She smiled sweetly and told me she's on it.

1 1/2 years ago

The spending binge I've had us on has weakened our financial position, and folks are starting to complain. K told me it's ok though, and that I should just hire more people who look like her. That sounds like a great idea. K is always right. God, I love my executive assistant.

1 year ago

We've let so many people into our organization and prices have gone up so much that my job approval is in the toilet. But that's ok, because I disagree with the polls. And my dog keeps biting my bodyguards. They really need to toughen up.

3 months ago

My job is up for grabs again, and the same guy I had to compete with last time is back in contention. I'm gonna school this guy with my hand tied behind my back. K says I've got this, and she has my back 100%.

2 months ago

I crushed it in the debate last night. My wife said so. So did K. She gave me lot of those special pills for the debate, and I don't remember too much about that night, other than that I beat Medicare because those drugs are so damn good.

7 weeks ago

Lots of people are saying I should drop out of the running for the organization. But K has my back for sure. Still can't find those nuclear codes that are missing. I wonder who has them.

6 weeks ago

In the secret white room deep underground, everything is peaceful. I prerecorded a bunch of videos after K gave me some drugs, and now I just eat jello and meds all day long. Life is one big rainbow.

Sometimes, I wonder who's sitting upstairs at my old desk in the Oval Office.

Author Notes
This was an entry in the Stalker contest I sponsored, but somehow I forgot to actually publish it before the contest closed.

This election is increasingly looking like a Soviet one with a planned coronation of a predesignated winner.

Chapter 6
Prezombient

By SimianSavant

Stayed out way too late
Shoulda quit in eighty-eight

TIME TO ABDICATE

Author Notes image by openart AI

Chapter 7
Bite Club

By SimianSavant

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.

Old MacDonald walked up the steps with his entourage in tow. A flock of fine-looking birds surrounded him, preening and cackling, hoping he might take notice. But Old MacDonald had more important things on his mind. He was about to meet his personal hero, Franklin.

He had prepared for the occasion by donning his finest pair of trousers, with satin undergarments. Word was that Franklin was a fashionable fellow, and might take notice.

As MacDonald approached the front door, the hens suddenly scattered in all directions. As he turned towards the source of the panic, a searing pain ripped at his posterior.

"Major! No! Bad dog!" yelled a servant. It was too late. The muscled German shepherd ripped his pants and satin underwear right off, exposing his bare buttocks. The hens gasped and giggled. MacDonald ran around and around, as Major chased him.

"And that's how one of our own bit the pants off the English prime minister in 1933," stated the instructor proudly, gesturing up at the video screen with a paw. The other dogs nodded and wagged their tails in approval.

"Can you play us the one of 'Bull Terrier' Pete?" The question came from the back. Excited barking filled the hidden underground room.

"Play. It! Play. It!" The dogs chanted in unison.

"Allright. But after that, back to training." The dogs cheered as black-and-white footage of a French ambassador approaching the White House scrolled on screen, while their protagonist watched eagerly from a concealed kitchen door, awaiting the perfect moment to shred the unsuspecting victim's pants.

***

Bite first, ask question later.
Bites will go on as long as they have to.
If it's your first time visiting the White House, you have to bite.

The initiates listened carefully as the rules were read to them.

"What's the number 1 rule in Bite Club?"

You do not talk about Bite Club, the dogs chanted back.

"That's correct. When do you stop biting?"

After you've bitten his pants off.

"Good. Dismissed! Proceed to your practice targets."

A series of mannequins with tattered dress pants were lined up on the other side of the dirty basement. As drill instructor Fido stood watch over their pup trainees, Spot approached him. "Yo. Have you noticed something's off with Commander?"

"He seems to not know... when to stop," Fido said, wryly, gesturing in his direction.

"Yeaaaaah."

***

3 MONTHS LATER

Commander circled the White House warily, hunting. It was after dark, and the moon was nearly full. Eerie shadows danced and played along the front lawn.

As a svelte male intern wearing heels and a dress walked towards the front door, Commander struck. Easily dodging the first Secret Service agent, he leaped straight for the intern's butt implants and punctured them with an incisor. "Stop that dog!" shouted the agent, as the German shepherd raised his leg for a quick victory pee on the disheveled intern's right leg.

Two more agents appeared from the shadows, attempting to corner him, but Commander was faster. As one of them reached for him, he bit the hand down to the bone, tearing through tendons. The agent's blood spewed on Commander's muzzle as he turned and went right for the testicles of the second agent. The agent dodged, just in time.

The radio barked, and Commander could hear the sound of more agents rushing to the scene. It was time to make an escape. Weaving deftly between columns, he darted around the back side of the White House and out of view.

***

"Dude. You're supposed to bite pants only. What happened?"

Commander looked up, smiling innocently at the debriefing dachshund in charge of the Secret Service dog detail. "I had to improvise," he shrugged. "They were going to catch me."

"All right, but next time we're sending you with some support, so that doesn't happen. Agents are our FRIENDS."

Spot and Fido watched from the other side of the two-way mirror. "You know," said Spot, "We could use this to our advantage. What if we spike his food with bath salts next time he's on duty?"

***

Two weeks later, Commander was on duty again. This time, there was no moon. No one would see him coming. His razor-sharp incisors awaited the entrance of the next intern. This time, he would go straight for the carotid artery.

He spotted a pair of giggling, young attractive women approaching the East Gate. They were talking about their Thanksgiving plans to visit a puppy shelter. "I've always wanted a Dalmation puppy," one of them said. "I heard there's a secret room in the White House that's full of them." As she approached the gate, Commander crouched, ready to strike.

Author Notes Based on true events with historical White House dogs. Image by Copilot.

Chapter 8
pardon me

By SimianSavant

Feeling tough,
I give out favors
in the buff

Author Notes image by author, with OpenArt AI

Chapter 9
new year, old lies

By SimianSavant

In the brand new year
there's one thing that's never new:

talk about fresh starts

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