The hotline rang at 3 AM. "Hillary?" asked

The hotline rang at 3 AM. "Hillary?" asked Obama. "Nyet!" "Vlasik?" "Good grief, Barack, it's me, Uncle Josef! Just calling to give you some more tips for populace control."
It was crazy old Mike again, thinking he was Josef Stalin this time for some reason. Obama didn't have time for this. "You need to start culling off the elderly," Mike started.
Mike wanted his answers and he knew he can't get those from these filthy looking white collared people, he knew he had to go elsewhere
So Mike decided to go underground in search of the mole people. They would grant him the answers he sought. Tugging along his firefly farm as tokens of his appreciation to give, he
dug with his spadey hands, snuffling with his prehensile nose till he entered the dusky realm of the Mole People. Mike gave the Mole Queen his fireflies asking "Majesty! Why do yo
u smell so delightful!" The Mole People gasped. Evidently remarking on the Mole Queen's aroma was a huge taboo. But instead of lopping off Mike's stupid head, she laughed.
"Thank you, Mike." The Mole Queen said, "You smell nice too." More Mole people gasped, they weren't used to the aromal remarks. Mike was loving Mole land. Until
The Mole King came to him and threw him in the dungeon. Time to escape, he thought. He staged an elaborate plan to get the girl and save the day all at once, winning her love.
It is as they say, however...you know..."the best laid plans", etc. etc. But then again, sometimes Fate offers something better. He ended up winning the prison poker game & got out
, his pockets filled with money; he was halfway home when he realised it'd all vanished. Leprechaun gold. "That's what I get for playing poker with Ol' Seamus," he sighed.

Started: 2014-04-17 00:41:24
Finished: 2015-07-01 18:01:54

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