Forged from the remains of a mad scientist’s sister’s abortion and the expression on a child’s face when their school funding gets cut but that’s fine because they were going to have to drop out anyway and get a job for a couple years before the police shoot them, Elizabeth Warren and Paul Ryan each make up half of a legendary creature who’s sole purpose is to defend democracy against all threats. They are careful to remain anonymous when they combine to form the ultimate fighting machine, the legendary libertron which can punch communism so hard that the proletariat falls out their ass.
Chapter 1: Democracy Drills
The ongoing adventures of our intrepid heroes continues as Ryan discusses the lack of democratic literacy in American Society with what he thought was a male colleague in the adjacent bathroom stall while dropping off his morning briefs. On the topic of holding democracy drills (like fire drills but for things that can actually hurt children), Ryan was uncertain, recognizing the importance of it but struggling to figure out a way to privatize democracy (and drills) at the same time.
““it’s [democracy is] important, you know. Why should we not have drills on how to defend it? Did you know most citizens who have earned the diamond tricorn don’t even know about the secret word you can say to police to let them know you are a freeborn soul who is commandeering his-”
“-or her!” Interrupted Elizabeth Warren from the next stall over.
“No, a real cop.” Corrected Ryan, “-Commandeering his assistance and justice defending phallus in defending liberty and then he has to help you for 72 hours.”
“Most people don’t know that?” grunted a skeptical Warren.
“No, and what are you doing in the restroom for people with penises? The restroom for other things is across the hall.” Whined Ryan, hoping Warren didn’t realize he had sat down to pee and now his shy bladder was hording the urine he had carefully crafted from several recovery drinks, a diet redbull, and carefully sipped, lukewarm, distilled water (with a pinch of lemon zest because he was a rebel and liked a bit of flavor in what went down his throat).
“Because menopause fluidated my gender.” Growled Warren around a particularly burdensome blockage, “so today I am a male.”
“You don’t have a penis”
“No more than you don’t.”
“I have a penis-” Pouted Ryan, glaring at his recalcitrant member and its unwillingness to release his relieving stream.
“No, a real penis that could satisfy a woman. Mine at least satisfies me. So that’s one woman.”
“Gross.” Said the secretly masturbating Paul Ryan.
“So you support the idea of democracy drills” said Warren, making yak sounds in her attempt to expel her onerous offal.
“In theory.” Said Ryan, choking himself in two places, “We should have more checks in place to make sure that we preserve democracy. We should make sure citizens know what to do when democracy is under attack. We should let them know where the sacred scepters are that let the wielder command either an f16 for an hour, a platoon of army for 3 hours, or one marine for 5 minutes.*”
(*The idea was that these were roughly equivalent in deadly force. Except for the marine. If it takes more than 5 minutes to explain and execute, a marine would fuck it up anyway, so there was kind of a built in time limit.)
So, said Paul Ryan, writing his name in calligraphy and drying semen on the stall wall, and blotting gently with bathroom tissue, “let’s have some drills.”
.................
This ends chapter 1. Stay tuned for chapter 2 where we find out what drills WarRyan have in mind. Will Paulizabeth make it out of the bathroom? Will the evacuation of their waste go smoothely!
Find out soon!!!
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