So, like so many song fics, I can't tell you all the POD details. Suffice to say colonialism doesn't go down with a whimper, Britain and Germany and France got nuclear weaponry before nuclear weaponry was hot. This story is set closer to home for yours truly, on the same continent, after colonialism crumbled with final Japanese defeat in China.
But I can show you the inspiration.
Seriously, click that link and enjoy it to the power of negative infinity minus negative zero times the answer of dividing by zero.
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After negotiations with the American North Atlantic Union broke down today Quebec remained adamant that it's drug policies were not to blame for either Columbian or American drug problems. Sensing tensions rising the United States continued to argue for a pan-national conference on drug policy to allow international police information sharing. British North Columbia, Quebec, ANAU, Mexico, Alaska and the Cuban Confederacy have continued to refuse to participate, citing sovereignty issues. While Quebec maintains that it's laws prohibiting the export of marijuana are effective tools for it's police to assist in the other nations efforts to stop drug use it has been shown that as many as 70% of strains that end up in users hands are Quebec strains.
"Turn that shit down man," said Tweeter as he rolled a joint, moistening the paper expertly "Not like Quebec is even the biggest supplier in the Hemisphere anymore." he said, tapping his finished product. The large pile of finely ground sativa strain from Vietnam hook-ups in front of him was smaller than it had been at 8:00 last night, but still substantial enough that the two of them had trouble rolling and took turns. The dingy hotel we were in was more than it appeared, the wallpaper chosen by the couple who wanted to have their American Dream their way so long ago fell victim to a corporate takeover and the inevitable less-loving cleaning staff. The Monkey Man woke from his dope-induced daze and changed the channel instead of turning the volume down: blasphemy to him. The bell boy had promised to tell the manager the computer glitched up if they ordered anything from the hotel's video-on-demand service; the thinly-disguised porn-peddling program brought no parental protection PIN and advertised a local brothel and massage parlour, 'Silver Spa', while it loaded. Before the Monkey Man chose anything too explicit for the liberal arts colleges the faithful English-style butler of the door announced the arrival of Hard K. Nuckles of Undercover Cop Land.
Tweeter got up to answer the door as the Monkey Man slowly lifted up the shotgun, hiding the barrel under the tent made by his bent knees below the unwashed blanket. The undercover cop made his way in, trying to act like a goth teenager; the act wasn't working, he had too much confidence in his actions and the goth kid wouldn't have brought his sister. "This is Jan, my sister" he said, gesturing a girl who walked in after him. "Jan, Tweeter and the Monkey Man and Beth. Tweeter and the Monkey Man and Beth, Jan." he said. She pulled off the dark clothes much better than he did, her short black party dress made her white-stocking legs icicles dripping in sexual heat. The tight corset you knew she was wearing under the dress made her so top heavy her high-heeled feet were nearly always moving to keep her balanced with her v-neck lacing flying wide and stylized dog collar leading you away from her face and to a place you'd be punished for looking at. He face was stunning, it was pale skinned, with midnight purple eyeshadow, black lipstick and a piercing job that makes grandmothers have heart attacks at birthdays and grandfathers get one so they can try to be dirty old men.
She was so hot I found my hand on my breast just to recall I had a pair too before the Monkey Man rolled out of the other bed and greeted them. I noticed he had let the channel return to the news; getting up I heard something about the new riots in Los Angeles, in what was left of the United States. Ignoring it and intent on buying her a drink first I got up from what must have been the most comfy chair in existing because I groaned as if I didn't want to get close enough to smell her favourite celebrity's line of products. She even hugged me "I'm so glad there's another girl here, I didn't want to be stuck with my brother and his friends all night." so I figured it was a bad time to tell her I only knew Tweeter and the Monkey Man from a friend of my own who was going to BNC for pills. I did hug her back, pulling her tight against me and feigning dopey wooziness I fell sideways with her onto the bed, moving my hand to her thong-unclothed arse. She knew better than to be fooled by this move though; giving me one of those playful smiles only the "Daddy's Money" Lesbians can afford to give a girl who's desperate for some change when she got off of me without even licking her soulless black lips.
She did however make sure Tweeter got a good look up her cleavage as she dug in her purse before sitting down. She sat down on the table actually, after clearing all the stuff on the rectangular top to one side she had her back to the wall and her legs crossed. Tweeter sucks on the side of his lip as he started to roll joints again. His excuse for looking down at the table instead of over at his new customer wasn't anything to comment on to the Cop, who was talking with the Monkey Man about the news. "And don't get me started on the whole 'Cocaine Wars' shit under the Nicaragua Canal Zone, the Brazilian peace keepers found dead Cubans among Cuban weapons shipments in Gran Columbia, but the Americans won't do anything but send their men to prop up the government so it keeps the Native guys down so they don't have to work so hard to keep them down in their California Golf Course." said the Monkey Man, waving his insanely long arms and showing off the hairiest parts of his ape-like chest. The cop just nodded, surely he thought this was a trick where we shaved a monkey and taught it to lip sync to a hidden tape recorder. This hairy beast wasn't human, he just wore clothes because monkey see monkey do.
I shook my head and took off my glasses to rub them down with a cloth, then heard a sparking lighter; turning to the table I see Tweeter explaining about his name. A Tweet is a piece of cardboard inside of the joint at one end so it has the stability it needs, like a cigarette filter provides stability. He's such a Dopeman he's actually counted how many tweets he has inhaled: Forty Seven. So the Monkey Man declared this a world record and game him his name. Guinness never wrote back, but they do get quite a tale of telling it and Monkey Man's naming. He had been found in a basket in the orangutan cage in the zoo, and adopted by Buddhists monks who took this as a sign to raise him. It was too bad the AMNAU wasn't religiously tolerant, exiling them and forcing the Monkey Man to live on the streets.
As I slid my glasses back onto my nose I felt something soft on my hand and opened my eyes to see Jan pushing me on my back and pouting her lips to give me a full kiss before her tongue pushed it's way into mine. As she straddled me on the bed I responded and moved my hands over her hips, surprised twice when she blew marijuana smoke into my mouth. I inhaled, thankful she was into making a scene when high. As she got up after a bit of girl-on-girl 'who's the boss'-grinding and handed me the joint, which I greedily inhaled to see if it would taste as good as a tongue toke. Her black lipstick was the only thing left from her on it though, and I held in the intoxicating and dangerous fumes for a few seconds before exhaling and trying to pretend like nothing happened. But of course it had and it only left me more frustrated, so I asked her for her lipstick to try, and she slid it to me; a piece of paper had her number on it for what seemed to be a signal for 'later', and she hid it better than me.
I went to the washroom, intent on trying it on and getting back that sassy slut, she shotgunned sativa from southeastern Asia treas-
Ah.
So sneaky sister had traces of MDMA powder in her lipstick and I notice her lipstick case has a small pill grinder on the tip of the sleek generic-brand rip-off company made for selling to women who would crush pills and kiss people will drugged lipstick.
I have exactly the same kind, but mine's actually brighter purple. I think it fits in well with my plaid skirt and Japanese-sock-length-fetish-which-I-can't-remember-sized socks. A Nevada State University hoodie hides my small breasts, but modified so it hugs my hips enough to make them look at the skirt. One pocket is all I need, which is always a good line to use on officers, is pretty true. And my packsack, oh god, I am so paranoid about the things I have in there. I've got to check on it.
I rush back into the main hotel room, and smile as it's still crammed under my jacket, which still lay intricately folded on top. I walk over to the table, now that Tweeter has left Jan to talk more business with the "Undercover Cop" brother. Taking the joint from her hand quickly she looks at me with bloodshot eyes and a second look just in an eyebrow twitch lets me know her hand on my thigh isn't something I'm going to want in a second. Walking to sit in the chair on the other side of the table she smiles. "So you like it?" she asks, so sweetly I've decided in a blurry state of mind way of having a coherent thought that I'm going to add some more Aanii (the XTC I got from a gang of tanned guys with feathers) to her lipstick. As I pass the joint, now nearly a roach I get up and lean over the table, pulling her arm slightly. Rejected in a flash she pulls me close and kisses me without taking my leftovers, continuing to kiss my face to my neck and then back to my left ear.
"Not tonight babe, I've fallen hard for the Monkey Man." she whispers as she slowly seats her ass back down in the bare metal folding chair, a carbon-iron copy of mine. Steel Steal. I grin as I sit down, content to say I'm still holding the joint, silently inching my hand closer to her open corset as she leans her head on one hand, leaning against the table just lost in as much lust as I am. She looks at me and laughs, her hand pulling from her cheek as she hides her face in her bicep, laughing to hard that I take her lipstick from the table and put it in my hoodie pocket. when she looks up and sees my hand dissapear into my pocket. Which hangs really low when you think about it, I'm short and it probably seems like I was getting a quick thrill while no one was looking.
This sets her off again and I leave the slowly-burning out joint in the ashtray as I hide both hands in the pocket and repeat movements I've done so many times. Cop or no cop in the room, I've done it before. Pop the cap's little lid, then place pill in, reattach lid, twist lid and receive MDMA-coated Candy-flavoured Sex. With everyone else. All at once. For what feels like Eternity.
Unless you do it too much. Then it gets stranger and stranger. With everyone else. All at once. For what feels like Eternity. And that's definitely not fun. So the lipstick method maybe the best way to spread it around with one another. Small doses add up for those who aren't acting like total strangers. Pill popping is so anti-social we will refuse to dance with someone who pops them. We kiss them first though, then tell them no.
Jan finally grabs the joint as I remove the lipstick container I was working on. Stupid me, it was my own purple lipstick. Now my lipstick is a double-dusted dipstick. So I leave it out, telling her "Try it, there's two xtc pills on it. I was gonna dust yours but I wanted to ask first". Liar, I accuse my mouth. You would have said anything to taste those black lips again; your own lips give it away, reflecting her colour. I must be high, I've been smoking dope for hours as I trip out on xtc with two boring dope dealers. They turn up the TV to take in what is more news.
This morning British North Columbia and the ANAU declared war on the nation of Quebec. Quebec air strikes were devastating in New Amsterdam, the capital of the nation; Quebec has access to the latest Japanese aircraft as well as a large stock from the Sino-Japanese War. Stealth bombers were reportedly used by Quebec to slip by the defences of the ANAU.
However on the BNC front Quebec has lost ground due to the more sparsely settled North-west province giving no resistance. The Anglo-phone Minority is welcoming the BNC troops and some Metis Groups have ambushed much of Quebec reinforcements. Quebec has threatened nuclear retaliation on both its opponents however Soviet Special forces teams quickly took a hold of Quebec's nuclear weapons and lifted them to a secure location in Greenland. It is not known if they have secured the RQS Polar Bear.
The United States has declared war on the Empire of Mexico for a sneak attack upon the Rio Grande outposts. It is expected the Empire of Brazil will help the United States, and might use the peace keepers in Gran Columbia for attacking the Mexican troops. If Argentina attacks Brazil though it will put the United States into an awkward position: support a Republic that is of less power or support an Empire that has troops in place to help them win early.
Oh jeez. Meet a girl and it's the end of the world in downtown Detroit.
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More? I mean, this may be cutting it to the edge of ... whatever I'm allowed to post. But I am so typed out now I just want to read it and smile.