CONTROVERSIAL JACK AND THE FALL OF WESTERN CIVILIZATION A Fan Art HQ / Spoof Chase Production Part Two: I'm sailing away By Spencer Cody (Controversial Jack Created by Yves Belanger) WARNING: This fic contains many fine, politically incorrect things which are in violation of various war crimes treaties. Often, it also has not been edited, spellchecked, or even read by the authors prior to posting. Consumption of a Folgers/Earl Gray Tea mixture while reading is strongly cautioned, as brain hemorrhages may occur as a result due to lack of quality in this document (and several chemical properties). For the root of this evil, hitch a ride over to: IMPROMANGA http://fanarthq.anime-manga.net/impromanga (Even though you most likely came from there) -=- November 6th, 199X- The night of the United States' presidential election, there was a great deal of confusion in the nation. Not confusion in a good way, a bad way, cold fusion, and not even the "I just got hit head-on by a Fed-Ex truck doing 90 and I survived by a One to Million shot, where the hell am I?" type of confusion. The people were just plain disoriented. This was due to a simple fact that the population was observing a candidate. A candidate no one had ever seen before. His party took a commanding lead in the polls early on, and never looked back. Unbeknownst to the world, this man was the beginning of the end. Controversial Jack. * * * "Well Mr. Duck, here we are." Jack and his friend were relaxing in the derelict shack in the backwoods of Montana, to relieve stress from the recent surge of activities. "I don't particularly feel like playing any pool, since you're such a shark. Hmmm. Maybe we could mail-bomb Chef Boyardee!" "Quack," agreed the bath time toy, in his time with Jack, had generally evolved from a lifeless lump of foam plastic owned by Schmidt Bob, to a sentient one. "Hey, how about Russian Roulette," Jack asked. "I know I can win that!" He pulled out a shiny coal-black Colt 8-shooter. Mr. Duck was not as Gung-ho about this idea, and had a sense of foreboding. Jack was admiring the polished gun, unnoticing that the news was up on the radio playing in the background. That is, until he heard his own name mentioned. He immediately shot up, packed all his possessions of worth, grabbed Mr. Duck, and was out the door, off to the nearest airport. * * * Jack's flight home to California went quite smoothly, and by that I mean he pissed his daily quota of people off. He hit on all the attractive female flight attendants. Also, constantly demanded and eventually received his own weight in complimentary airline peanuts, made his way up to the plane's cockpit and coaxed the head pilot to let him fly for 5 minutes (in which he dumped the fuel and deactivated 2 engines). As a special gift, he was given a pilot's uniform. In other, truer words, he swiped it from the overhead compartment when no one was looking. Due to these "technical" difficulties, the jet had to make an emergency landing in Ogden, Utah. Jack decided taking a Greyhound bus the rest of the way would be more efficient, so he did (yes, he actually TOOK it). * * * After several hours of riding and knocking down as many stop signs as possible, Jack arrived home. He took a deep breath before opening the door, and in the process of struggling with the lock, he realized he was at the wrong house. So after correcting this mishap, he walked into the right house. There was silence, which is not too uncommon when he is not home. He found Anne sleeping in her bed comfortably even though it was 3pm. Apparently Jack's absence was much needed. "Anne." "Hey!" "ANNE!" She inevitably awoke to a medley of her brother's frantic screams and violent shaking. "Uh...Jack? WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN FOR THE LAST 4 MONTHS?!" Anne was in a chipper mood, as usual. "Anne! It's so nice to see you," continued Jack, ignoring her question. "I dropped by with some important news!" "Which is?" "I'm the new president of the United States!" Her adrenaline levels peaked as she gave him a thwack with her trusty mallet. "Have you been in the Tylenol AGAIN?" "Well, of course! Where else do you think I get my creative energy?" Anne's temples throbbed with anger. "Look, if you don't believe me, I'll prove it to you!" Jack switched the television on and flipped through the channels in search of news. "...To recap, today's top story is the death of Pope John Paul the..." "Dammit! Where's the important news?" He maniacally changed the channels, breaking several buttons off the TV. "...Great deal of confusion in the country today as to the identity of the new president. Not present at last night's political rally, Jack Lysias won a shocking 94% of the votes in yesterday's election. This would not be as surprising if not for the fact that less than 1% of the country has ever heard of him or the 'Controversial Party' before. Sources have noted he is extremely psychologically unstable, and has no previous political experience..." There was an unsettling silence for a moment. "What the hell was that?! How dare they deride my leadership abilities! Come Mr. Duck! Let us find the nearest Arms dealer to stock up on high-powered weapons! Prepare for much enemy bloodshed! It'll be like 'Army of Darkness'! Are you up to it, Anne?...Anne?" She was still in her bed, apparently comatose and with glazed-over eyes. "........." "Suit yourself, we'll be the vigilantes! I'll keep in touch, assuming I don't fall behind enemy lines. Farewell!" Jack gathered the appropriate supplies for the tirade, and made his way out the door. No farther, however. The droves of reporters outside closed in on their target with deadly precision. * * * "Who are you?" "Are you the leader of the 'Controversial Party'?" "What is your political platform?" Jack was startled by this great outpouring, but pleased with the exposure, and ever-present chance to make an ass of himself. "Please, one question at a time," he stated. "Are you really the president?" "Why, yes, I am. Didn't my natural charm and charisma give it away?" "What are your big plans to improve over the last government?" "Everybody gets a free 'Jack Rules' T-shirt" "Boxers or Briefs?" "No." He was exactly where he wanted to be at the moment-at the center of attention. Unnoticed, a very black stretch limousine pulled up to the curb. 3 heavily built men wearing very black suits stepped out and pushed their way through the crowd to Jack. "Jack Lysias," one asked with a booming voice. "Yes," he replied. "You guys must be makeup. I was hoping for a chick, but as long as you aren't stingy with the blush, it'll be fine. I mean..." "Come with us, please," the same suit interrupted. "Fine. Unless you guys are Korean assassins or something, because I would really hate to..." our hero's voice trailed off as he was ushered into the luxurious car. "Where exactly are we heading to?" Jack had a good reason to ask questions of stupid nature at the moment. "You're going to Washington D.C." "Why?" "You are going to be sworn in, you were elected president, after all." "Oh. I like the sound of that swearing part! You hear that, Mr. Duck?" "Quack!" "I couldn't have said it better myself." * * * Cameras flashed. There was the constant buzz of hundreds of voices in unison. The ceremony was about to begin. Jack was of on the main stage of the 'hall of congress' in a clean, expensive, slick (and more importantly, free) woolen suit. The figure beside him stepped up to the soapbox and prepared to speak. All was silent. "Ahem," the man, who held a really neat job, like 'Supreme Court Justice' began. "Do you, Jack Lysias, solemnly swear to uphold the law, and never withhold the truth from the American people, under any circumstances?" "Yes." This is actually what he planned to do. "Then," the man continued. "Recite the pledge of..." "That's all well and good," Jack cut in. "But shouldn't I just get down to work on cutting taxes and making America the economic superpower it ONCE was?" "Uh..." "You're damn straight! You the people are paying too much and getting too little! I say it's time to fight for what you deserve, and that starts by making me your president!" Jack shot a self-reliant grin in the general vicinity of the news cameras. "Excelsior!" There was much applause in the building. Jack managed to work in part of the content from his upcoming conference at the right time for press, and as a bonus, to cover the fact he didn't know the pledge of allegiance. He threw himself mosh-pit style into the crowd and was carried away by an unsuspecting mob of people...Now he really was the president of the United States. * * * The next day, Jack took an elaborate tour of the White House, the highlights of which were: Jimmy Hoffa (frozen for freshness), The 8th wonder of the world (a perfect budget), and the 24-hour Vanilla Ice bar (he couldn't have hid forever). After much contemplating (.324 seconds), Jack decided he wanted some major renovations, such as a secret underground grotto for Mr. Duck, 24 extra washrooms for every conceivable occurrence, and the White House would still be the White House, just with mauve highlights. Later that day in his office, Jack could be found making free long-distance crank calls to Asia. There was a knock on the door. He quickly hung up the phone and pressed button 3 of the 'prerecorded presidential phrase' generator: "What do you want? I'm a busy man!" "Um, it's your new assistant sir." Jack switched the handy device of and decided to communicate. "Come in, then," he said, trying to sound as imposing as possible. "My name is Tim Jenkins, I'm a Harvard graduate in psychological method and kissing ass." "Pfft, Harvard..." he wanted to see how this kid could handle pressure. "Well sir, it is quite a rewarding university if you put a lot of effort into your work. I do have this job, after all." "Enough chit-chat! What exactly do you want," boomed the president. "I'm your assistant sir. Is there anything you request at the moment?" Jack thought carefully, as not to waste this opportunity. "Yes, actually. I would like some fries for my dinner." "Is that all?" "...No. I would also enjoy with those fries ketchup, made from the largest tomato in the world." "Uh-huh," Tim acknowledged while taking out a notepad and started to scribble the directions down. "As well as ivory seal strips..." "...The endangered species?" "You got it. And I would like to have those lightly sautéed in oil made from the world's most difficult to obtain olives." "Will that be all?" "...And a Cherry Coke." "Of course." There were several moments of silence as Tim completed his notes, then pulled out an intercom and spoke some code words. In a mere few seconds, a group of people appeared at the corridor, and Tim gave them the sheet of paper, after which they quickly dispatched. "Your meal will be prepared as soon as our forces return from Antarctica, France, Italy, and the corner store, sir," Tim announced. "Wow, is it always that efficient around here?" "I've never seen less, personally. Do you have any more requests at the moment?" "Yes. I recently discovered that the moon is not actually a crescent shape. I was under this impression due to my continued consumption of 'Lucky Charms'. I want General Mills to pay for this." "Shall I have the IRS audit them sir?" "That's way too subtle for my tastes. Have them killed, no one toys with Controversial Jack's mind!" You could feel the power in the room. "Right away," Tim agreed as he pulled out his intercom and spoke a few more code words. Almost immediately, a heavily armed strike team was seen running down the halls. "Excellent work, Jenkins. You'll have to teach me that language." "It's on the itinerary, sir." "Do me another favor, if you will. Stop calling me 'sir', this is no place for formality! Just call me Master J, or Jack, if you prefer." "Got it, Jack." "Back to business," Jack continued. "To accommodate my irreversible mindset, I want the moon reshaped." Tim paused for a moment. "I recommend a high-payload nuclear warhead," he chimed in. "Just as I did, Jenkins. Let's say...A 500-megaton ICBM. Prepare it immediately." "Right away, Jack." He left the room to schedule this monumental event. After a wait of several minutes, Jack's desk intercom activated with a message: "The minister of defense highly objects to your proposal," Tim reported. "Tell him to shape up or ship out," he shouted into the intercom. After a moment, Tim asked when the launch was needed. "As soon as possible," Jack replied. "Upgrade to Defcon 6!" "Uh, it only goes up to 5," Tim replied. "I don't care! Create a new one for this specific event!" "Affirmative," Tim complied. After an hour's wait in the new defense mode Defcon 6, a single missile fired from a silo in the Arizona desert, impacting with the Moon in 14 minutes. Jack's assistant reappeared in the oval office. "There are reports that Hawaii has disappeared under the sea, and that there will be several meteor impacts in the Northeast hemisphere in 14 hours." "Dammit," exclaimed Jack angrily. "There goes my winter mansion! Ah well, I'll take it in stride, mission accomplished!" He was always an optimist (well, not always). "Here is the latest fractal picture of the moon." Tim handed him a slide. It looked like the moon with a very large superficial crater in it. "Close enough," Jack commented. "Sir, I've just received word your dinner is ready." "Excellent." * * * Meanwhile, thousands of miles away in Florida... Debatable Joe was relaxing in a lawn chair on the veranda of his cottage, contemplating how well his plan was going. "Hmmmph. Jack elected president. I am a genius! Now, if everything else follows suit, I'll be able to crush him once and for all! How sweet revenge is..." He took a swig of 'Captain Morgan' bourbon, then fell out of his chair. How diabolical... * * * Jack was prepared for his press conference. He didn't need choreographing, because as we know, instant speech making is his forte. After being introduced by Al Gore (soon to be replaced by Mr. Duck), he stepped up onto the White House stage. There were many rabid reporters eager to get the latest scoop for their publications, but only a few would be so lucky. "I'm glad to see you all here. I have big plans for this country, so fire away. You there, with the pornographic tie!" "What tie?" "No tie at all. Next question! You there, the hottest chick in the room!" "Er, was yesterday's unannounced nuclear strike an inadvertent attack on many coastal regions of the world?" "Tough, but fair question. I found the moon to be aesthetically displeasing, so I did something about it. I am assertive. You should all know that right now. (they would never have a clue on just how assertive he meant) You." "What are your upcoming 'big plans'?" "Glad you asked! I'm planning to make the USA the most powerful country in the world tenfold. I'll make the first step by firing my cabinet sometime in the near future." "Do you have any plans on their replacements?" "Yes, the cast of 'Welcome Back Kotter' and Tony Danza, but there will be openings! You there, eating the paste!" The particular journalist in question decided to let the remark slide. "What are some policies you will be instating in the near future?" "First of all, a reformatted gun control. Each household must own, at the very minimum, one .45 Magnum or larger. The more guns you have, the more tax refunds you get, as some extra incentive. Second, the new 'toilet paper' exception. Anyone found having their toilet paper on the dispenser underhand shall be killed on site, mainly because it really pisses me off." "Will you be reapplying death sentences in more states that have abolished them?" "Yes, I will. I also plan to greatly change the current justice system. You'll love it! Or, you die. Simple choice." Jack's controversial aura was reaching the breaking point, and all he needed for perfection was a question about abortion. Will these reporters cross the line? Let's hope so! * * * WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT? WILL ANNE BREAK OUT OF HER MENTAL TRANCE? WILL JACK HAVE A FIELD DAY SHOOTING DOWN BIBLE THUMPERS? WHY THE HELL WEREN'T SCHMIDT BOB OR MISS JANE INTRODUCED YET? WHAT DOES DEBATABLE JOE HAVE IN STORE FOR JACK? WHAT’S THAT WACKY ILLUMINATI UP TO NOW? WHERE ARE THE INDENTS IN MY STORY? WHY DO A LOT OF IMPRO-AUTHORS DO THESE OBNOXIOUS LEAD-OFFS ALL IN CAPS? And why did I break the trend? Find out in the next chapter of Jack! (Damn clichés...) http://pixelscapes.com/improfanfic