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Date Posted: 12:27:05 08/01/02 Thu
Author: BPC
Author Host/IP: cache-dg05.proxy.aol.com / 205.188.208.137
Subject: The Casino( I know it wont count but the damn board wouldnt let me post in 3 freakin days!!)

*The scene opens at the front gates of the White House. The limo drives in and then stops. The chauffer gets out and opens the door so BPC and Mos can get out.*

BPC:
This is it? Where are all the damn security guards?

MOS:
No shit, someone could bomb this place easy.

*Just then four Chevrolet Caprice Classics screech to a stop inches from Mos and BPC.*

Agent #1:
Hold it right there!!!

BPC:
Uhhh ok?

Agent #2:
I swear to God if you move, I'll blow your fuckin brains out.

MOS:
Do you REALIZE who we are?

Agent #3:
No words bitch!!

BPC:
Oh you son of a bitch...

MOS:
Man I will break you!!

*The agents put the men in handcuffs and take them to the security holding room. A German man walks in.*

German:
I vill ask ze questions. You vill give ze answers.

BPC:
Just let us go.

German:
I DID NOT ASK A QUESTION!!!

*The German strikes BPC.*

BPC:
You motherfucker.

*BPC tries to get lose but can't.*

German:
Zerr is no use trying to excape.

MOS:
Thats what you think.

*Mos busts out a 30 tool multi-tool and cuts through the ropes. He lunges at the German.*

MOS:
Eat shit and die you damn dirty German!!!

*BPC stares at Mos kicking the Germans ass. Mos knocks the German out and cuts BPC lose. The two men exit the room and go downstairs where there is a huge door marked "BOMBSHELTER." The two men open the door and stop in their tracks. They see many people in suits and cocktail waitresses walking around in skimpy outfits. They walk in slowly and are handed cigars and some bright mixed drink. BPC looks at the drink.*

BPC:
What the fuck is this?

MOS:
Uhhh I don't know.

*The two men sit the drinks down and walk to the bar.*

Bartender:
Yes?

BPC:
I'll take a beer.

Mos:
As will I.

*The bartender gives the two men a beer and they turnaround to look at everythign again.*

BPC:
Where the hell are we?

Mos:
Some alternate universe?

BPC:
Shit I don't know, but they didn't charge us for the beer...I like it!!!

MOS:
Maybe its that fabled "third sith" Shadojoker always talked about.

BPC:
Yeah dude whatever.

*The two men start to walk around. They continue walking between slot machines and poker tables. They then see the stage where there are none other than the best strippers in the world. These ladies have the best "credentials" of them all. Their jaws drop. Mos stares then starts nudging BPC's side.*

BPC:
What the fuck do you want?

MOS:
Dude its Cole's wife!!!

BPC:
Haha it is.

*Just then there is a tap on Mos's shoulder. The two men turn around.*

Man:
How do you do gentlemen? I see you know the feature tonight.

MOS:
Yeah, I fu...I mean, we met on a plane once.

Man:
I'd like to introduce myself, I'm President George W. Bush.

BPC:
I know.

MOS:
Yep.

Bush:
Oh ok, then I'd like to invite you to my private table...I've been wanting to meet the House of Pain for a while now.

BPC:
Thats great, really it is, can I get another beer?

Bush:
Sure thing! Follow me.

*The two superstars follow Dubbya to his private table where BPC and Mos get another beer.*

Mos:
SO why have you been wanting to meet us so bad?

Bush:
Well as you know I'm from Texas, the same state that BPC's from.

BPC:
Yeah, so is X-Con and so is that bitch Alex Jay.

Bush:
True.

MOS:
So whats the deal bitch.

Bush:
Actually I just wanted to drink a beer with the best tag team out there.

BPC:
Well shit, you could've said so earlier...

*The men start getting tanked.*

Bush:
So I said to John Walker Lindh, "Bitch, you better be glad its not me (hiccup) in that jury, cuz I'd say (hiccup) your gonna fry bitch!!!"

BPC:
Great story, really it is, but we, uhhh, have to go, right Mos?

Mos:
Yeah...

*The two men get up to leave and Bush tries to follow them but Secret Service stops him. The scene fades to black as the men get back into the limo.*

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