"He has an extre lack of respect for the United States," I could tell from the look in his eyes, he wants to be the big boss of Latin Arica."
Old Bush was amused by this assessnt and said decisively, "He’s dreaming!"
"North Arica belongs to the United States, Latin Arica belongs to the United States, the world will also belong to the United States, what does he count for?"
"His missiles are just five minutes away from Wall Street," Donald Rumsfeld said nonchalantly.
Old Bush couldn’t hold it together anymore, damn it, no wonder everyone’s annoyed with you, I’m putting on an act here and you’re picking at the seam behind .
Perhaps realizing that he was not the right person to say this, Special Envoy Mr. Donald shifted the conversation, "We shouldn’t have a direct confrontation with xico, but I support the ’proxy’ wars."
"Like what?" asked Old Bush, sitting upright.
"Disrupting the relationship between xico and other Latin Arican countries, creating conflicts, making Victor the most hated figure in the region, supporting anti-Victor alliances within xico, and when necessary, pushing a proxy out, just like we dealt with Iraq."
This was exactly the CIA’s forte.
CIA: "Hey, ah! Yes, I’ve got intelligence, xicans are against you, your cargo ship on the high seas was bombed by Victor, yes, I swear, I swear on my Arican dignity and morality."
"We need to minimize conflict with Victor and repair our relationship with him; I suggest we accept his demands to try the main few…" Donald Rumsfeld, seeing the breath on the other end freeze, quickly said, "By our own courts, the specifics, we can fully control."
"You take full responsibility."
Old Bush took a deep breath and said with a heavy voice, "My only demand right now is to get the xicans to hand over the bodies as soon as possible!"
My dia contacts can’t wait any longer.
The party’s propaganda machine has already started to boost my support rate, just wait for the "fallen" U.S. Military bodies to arrive, and I’ll personally go to the airport to receive them, and then, weep bitterly.
Wow...
Tell you, the day after tomorrow, I’m running for re-election!
"Sotis life is more important than votes," Donald Rumsfeld was just annoying, wasn’t he?
Because, he really liked to tell the "truth," even coming off as soone devoid of emotional intelligence.
Old Bush had criticized him more than once for being stubborn and arrogant!
The two never got along.
Sure enough, hearing the other say that, self-centered Old Bush beca very irritated and snapped, "Donald, just do your job."
Finished speaking, he hung up the phone.
Listening to the silence on the line, the old man seed very indifferent, calmly throwing out a sentence.
"Old Bush, Private Second Class!"
Pfft!
The US-xico conflict is now a global headline.
It’s just that the internet isn’t developed yet, otherwise, Victor’s na would be trending daily.
In mainstream dia, it’s even overtaken the impeachnt of the Iron Maiden Thatcher.
Even the always critical BBC admitted Victor was "xico’s Savior," and they even invited a military analyst on the show to publicly "execute" The Pentagon’s decision.
In the end, they blad it on "intelligence issues."
"The performance of the CIA is simply disastrous; their amateur behavior, I thought I was seeing the Indian intelligence agency, to them two words, Shit!"
The loudmouth guest offended two at once.
CIA Director Richard Jas Curl gritted his teeth as he watched the bastard on television, while the supermodel host laughed herself silly.
He felt like a clown being casually reviewed.
According to "protocol," he actually should step down and let soone more capable take over, resigning to preserve the last of his dignity.
But he couldn’t let go of this position.
This was the CIA Director!
He was completely capable of advancing further in politics, all ruined, everything destroyed by that bastard Victor.
You tell , can’t you just quietly wait to die?
He now very much wanted Victor dead! Enjoy new tales from .Côm
Even if the US-xico peace talks were happening, what did that have to do with him?
Just kill Victor, and everything will get back on track.
"F***ing hell!" Richard Jas Curl glared viciously at the television hosts and guests.
Ti to get rid of all of you as well.
Let you understand what "freedom of speech" ans.
He was just about to continue working when the phone on the desk rang, and he picked it up with a hello.
"Darling~" a coquettish female voice ca from the other end.
"Ruth, how many tis have I said, don’t call during my work hours."
The woman on the other end still pleaded pitifully, "I… I just missed you, will you co tonight?"
Richard Jas Curl was just about to refuse when he heard the other person say, "I’ve prepared your favorite #$%#$ today, and if possible, I also called two black guys, wow, they are really sothing."
The CIA Director with deviant desires heard this and felt a surge of animalistic lust inside him.
In tough tis, everyone wants to have a little fun first.
Especially since in the evening he could...
Richard Jas Curl’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he glanced at the wall clock.
It was Saturday.
It was indeed ti to relax.
Who ever finishes all their work anyway?
He needed to get a bit of exercise for his sphincter.
"Wait for !" he said into the phone with a rushed voice, his breathing becoming ragged.
He picked up the keys on the desk and left work early.
These high-level Aricans all have TMD special preferences. After the Millennium, monsters and demons erged under politically correct leadership.
You could even see a four-star Admiral who hadn’t transitioned from the national army’s freaks.
F*** squid!
This was truly embarrassing for those chanting long live the United States.
Really... it’s indescribable.
Director Mr. drove his "old and broken" sedan straight to his mistress’s place in Washington.
To prevent being seen, he put on sunglasses as he got out of the car.
He was just going to see a prostitute, not stick it in his pants.
He entered the elevator and was about to close the door when he saw a woman holding a child running towards him and waving her hand to wait for him.
"Hurry up!" Richard Jas Curl shouted, but his hand was still pressing the button hard. As the other party was about to enter, the door closed.
He could hear the dissatisfied swearing from outside, which made him quite pleased.
Humming a tune, when he arrived upstairs, he knocked on the door, and a hand reached out from inside and pulled him in.
The air inside was filled with... the scent of an alkaline milky substance.
And the scene made his scalp tingle.
The mistress and a black man were mixing together, those sounds, super loud!
Richard Jas Curl was imdiately excited and just as he was about to join the fray, the mistress shouted, "Go take a shower first."
He nodded, rushed to the shower, gave himself a quick rinse, and couldn’t wait to rush out and start devouring.
A wave of lustful aroma suddenly enveloped him.
Richard Jas Curl was sowhat beside himself; he felt his soul boiling and could hear the thumping in his head. His breathing gradually quickened, and the blood vessels in his eyes increasingly swelled.
After a long comfortable exhale, he collapsed onto the mistress.
The latter was also satisfied, patting his shoulder and praising him, but Richard Jas Curl didn’t respond at all.
Realizing sothing was wrong, one of the black n pushed him and saw the Director flip over and collapse onto the bed.
Both he and his little brother were foaming at the mouth.
"Ah? Ah!!!!" The mistress panicked at the sight, slapping his face, "Dead... dead?!"
The two black n looked at each other, grabbed their clothes, and ran!
Fully demonstrating the "running away" skills of black people.
The mistress’s legs were weak, screaming for the black n to take her with them. She put on a skirt and crawled toward the door.
The commotion attracted the neighboring residents to co out, just to see two black buttocks.
So couldn’t resist their curiosity and approached, seeing a man lying on the bed, looking like a ball.
"Quick! Call the police!"
The FBI, upon receiving the call, ca to the scene, and when they saw Richard Jas Curl, they were so scared that they imdiately called their boss.
FBI’s Floyd I. Clarke was dumbfounded.
He uttered a sentence that was enough to go down in history in the 20th century: "Can venereal disease really poison soone to death?"
He imdiately drove over.
This was "good news," and as he left, he "accidentally" ntioned the incident to a few loose-lipped staff mbers.
It’s not that the FBI was so powerful, but that the CIA really could embarrass itself.
Was this supposed to be the second "accidentally" deceased Director?
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