Monday, March 22, 2010

Baron Wannabe Spotted in China

God, this guy is doing it all wrong.

Supposed to say, By the Power of Grey Skull!

The Baron's Amendment Passed!

HAHAHAHHAHAAHHAA

The Baron's amendment to the health care bill passed unnoticed last night!

Amendment 3603 or "Peak a Boo Growler Surprise Day" snuck into the legislation and was passed by a vote of 219-212.

PBGS day festivities will include:

"Mandatory thong wearage for all comely lasses of legal age"

"Periodic pick up the sheet of notebook paper from in front of The Baron's throne ceremonies"

and "190 million dollars to support The Baron's healthy appetite for fine, ballroom dancing shoes."

Yeah, you read that last one right.

The Baron has a soft spot for ballroom dancing.......

Nah! Just kidding. The 190 million dollars is to resurrect the Second Bass Mobile and turn it into a time machine that runs on garbage...also it can fly.

Thursday, March 18, 2010

The Baron's Thriller Novel : Part 11

Previously on the Coppenhagen Corrolary:

Roy Gimbel, heir to a massive tampon and brassiere empire is framed for a murder he did not commit the very day his father is found dead of a mysterious ailment in his office. Following a harrowing encounter with an anal probe at the Swiss Poliz HQ, Roy narrowly escaped what would have proved a fatal sodomizing with a terrifying new hemolytic agent. In his haste, Roy reached out to a powerful enemy, in Theodora Grandville, proprietress of the Grandville Lady Solutions. Seizing on Roy's offer to combine their feminine empire, Lady Grandville offers Roy the use of her plane to escape to Russia and a source of funds to help him clear his good name and claim his birthright.

Meanwhile, Ally Rivera a top agent in the FBI is taken off the Mosaic case and placed in charge of solving the murder of agent Corkwald, a deadly cold war assassin and field operative, killed by fatal hemolysis following brutal ass insertion. Ally quickly finds herself on the trail of a mysterious duo of terrifying ex-Soviet Intelligence agents, the Duvonoski brothers. Through a harrowing investigation and the death of a heroically mustached agent, it is revealed that these siblings share a bizarre genetic trait...their blood contains a potent hemolytic toxin deadly to other individuals. After a close call with one of the brothers, Ally joins the pursuit of Roy Gimbel, a man who seems inextricably linked to the bizarre murders and the terrifying poison blood of the Duvonoskis.

************

The Grandville Estate, Eastern Switzerland, 7AM.

Ally pulled into the the vast gravel driveway of the Grandville mansion and slowly maneuvered the car nearer to the structure. The loose rock crunched beneath the tires causing in what seemed like a deafening cacophony to agent Rivera's frazzled nerves. Ally's skin began to glisten as small, salty droplets collected at the crack of her sculpted ass.

A fleet of more than a dozen police vehicles idled outside the gates, waiting for her signal. They would race in, surround the compound and capture Roy Gimbel, alive if possible. But first she had to find him.

The sun sat low in the eastern sky, dimly illuminating the frosty gardens and statuary. Ally's hands gripped tightly to the wheel. She eased the car to a stop just outside of a towering set of doors, not even the main ones, and waited.

A rusted out shit box sat just beyond the nose of Ally's car. She could tell without looking that it was a Ford Escort. So this was the deteriorating vehicle Gimbel had been seen fleeing in. There were a number of bullet holes in the rear of the vehicle.

"Hmm, no report of gunfire in the report. Maybe this happened en route...?"

There was no telling where Gimbel was in this massive edifice, or even if he was here at all. The local constabulary would not allow a search warrant to be execute against lady Grandville; the woman's donations were responsible for bankrolling most of the town after all. So this was a stakeout, the most tedious of all law enforcement maneuvers. Officers had died sitting in their patrol vehicles on similar assignments from a combination of boredom, and leg clots throwing emboli into their brains.

Ally settled back and tried to make herself comfortable. The fabric of the seat practically sang as her taut buttocks raked across the fabric ridges.

"This could take a while" She muttered.

Exactly 3 seconds later, Roy Gimbel burst from the side door of the building and began striding towards the outbuildings.

"Holy shit!" Ally choked, fumbling for the radio.

She was about to call in the Cavalry when a second more distant figure caught her attention. A man was lurking at the treeline, following Roy from a distance, tracking him like a wolf. Ally set the radio down and picked up her binoculars.

She focused in on the distant figure and nearly yelped when the image sharpened.

"Jesus fuck!"

The angular face of Vasili Duvonoski screamed in her mind. This was the man who had tried and failed to kill her outside the Elk's Shaft, the man she had mortally wounded. He moved with animal cunning and no sign of disability. Were the Duvonoski's twins? Had Vasili died in some alley and his brother come to replace him? It was the only explanation that made sense. This simply could not be the man she had shot less than 18 hours previously.

She was forced from her reflection as Roy broke into a run. He had spotted the lurker as well and was tearing for the hangar at the edge of the property.

Ally sprang from her vehicle and began the pursuit. She brushed roughly through an opening in a low hedge row. The radio caught and tore free in the dense foliage.

"Shit!"

There was no time to retrieve the item, Vasili or Alexi or whoever that man was was gaining on Roy in long steady strides. This man was fast as a leopard.

With a shrill whine, a sleek jet pulled from the far side of the hanger and rolled towards the open runway. Gimbel veered in the direction of the plane.

"I can't let him reach that jet or he's gone for good!" Ally thought.

The lurker had a similar plan it seemed and Ally had no idea what he would do to Roy if he caught up first.

Ally's smooth, recently shaved legs, ached for oxygen and she sprinted after the fleeing Gimbel. He was not 30 yards from the jet now. He shot panicked glances over his shoulder at the lurker and seemed to find new energy reserves as he covered the final few feet.

Ally cursed under her breath as Roy reached the retracting stairs and bounded into the jet. The engines spooled with a deafening shriek and the stair began to rise and fold back into the fuselage.

The lurker reached the stairs just in time and roughly jerked at the receding hand rails. The plane began to roll slowly forwards. This bull of a man wrenched with all of his considerable strength and managed to bring the staircase back to earth.

He leaped up the stairs 3 at a time. Ally heard a high pitched scream from within the jet. With a final few strides she grabbed the stairs. Drawing her weapon she clambered up into the darkened interior of the aircraft.

The lurker was standing above Roy holding a large, curved knife. A bloody slash glared from Roy's cheek. He seemed frozen in terror contemplating the man who was about to kill him.

"Hold it right there asshole!" Ally bellowed.

The man pivoted his head on a column of ropey neck muscles and met Ally's gaze. He smiled slightly, then turned his vast bulk to face her. He turned the knife in his hand and took a step forward.

"One more step and I'll blow your brains out freak!"

The lurker smiled again and took another step.

A sharp report tore through the cabin. The lurker shuddered and glanced to the spreading, purple stain on his left, upper chest. He snarled and lunged at Ally.

Four more shots sounded. The man's chest was a mess of blood and torn flesh. He examined his wounds, grinned and slumped to the floor with a great thump.

"Who the fuck was that?" Roy stammered.

"I'm not completely sure. It doesn't matter though, you're coming with me."

"I'm not leaving this plane you crazy bitch, everyone out there is trying to kill me!"

"That doesn't concern me. You're wanted for a three murders that we know of. Ally clipped, leveling her pistol at Roy's chest.

"Of and who's we? The fucking butt-raping Swiss Poliz again?"

"No Mr.Gimbel, I'm agent Rivera with the FBI and I'm taking you in if it kills me."

"It just may miss Rivera." Came a man's voice from the front of the jet.

Ally spun her weapon around, but it was quickly knocked away with a sharp kick. Ally found herself eye to eye with a lithe looking man. His piercing blue eyes seemed able to assess the situation in a single glance. He pointed a large caliber pistol directly at Ally's beautiful mocha face.

"Please, have a seat agent, you're not going anywhere."

"Who the hell are you?" Roy and Ally blurted in unison.

"I work for Lady Grandville and she says Gimbel is under her protection. That makes him my responsibility."

"Oh thank god!." Roy yelled.

"So what, are you going to kill me?" Ally asked.

"We'll just have to wait and see won't we? Now sit the fuck down!" The man indicated a chair with his pistol.

Ally reviewed all the contingencies in her mind and could see no alternative. The way this man held his weapon belied decades of experience. There was nothing she could do that wouldn't end with a bullet to the chest.

Defeated, Ally slumped into a chair.

He threw a pair of handcuffs to Roy with a casual underhand toss.

"Lock her to the seat Mr. Gimbel."

Roy jumped up, grabbed the shackles from the floor and obliged. Ally noticed that he was very gentle when tightening the rings, almost apologetic.

"Good, now help me get this body off the jet."

The men struggled with the hefty remains of the lurker. They finally moved him to the stairs and roughly shoved the body out of the aircraft. Ally watched as the limp corpse rolled to the tarmac. The engines roared to life and the stairs retracted with a mechanical whir.

The plane accelerated in a continuous powerful spurt and leaped from the runway. The pilot made a quick 180 degree bank and swept back over the hangar.

Ally craned her neck scanning the ground for the lurker. She quickly spotted him, and felt an intense wave of nausea. He had risen to one knee and was glaring at the departing jet.

"Oh shit...that man's still alive?" Roy uttered in disbelief. "Don't tell me there's two of them."

"What do you mean by that?" Ally asked, her voice wavering.

"I could have sworn I killed this big ass-probing bastard at the poliz station and then he chased me down and shot up my car."

"And I could have sworn I killed that man on the tarmac....twice in fact."

Their gazes met, in a moment of confusion bordering on panic.

"What the fuck is going on." Roy mumbled.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Remember Conversion Vans?

Back when The Baron was a young duke, a sensational new vehicle craze swept through western New York state (but not new york city, because that place is full of assmasters, that's right RB, JF and DS, The Baron is referring to you!).

That craze was conversion vans.

You may remember seeing these road boats in a variety of places including cheap, utilitarian camp grounds, county fairs, walmart and fishy smelling lakes that people felt compelled to swim in for some reason.

These noble behemoths reigned for a period of exactly 10 years
(1978-1988) until they were usurped by minivans. The Baron cries hot tears when he ponders the the demise of conversion van and recalls a yesteryear full of hope, contentment and sweaty perverts.

So come with The Baron as he walks down memory lane and reviews the 4 main types of conversion van and their varied and often sordid owners.

1. The Pederast's Paradise

This rusted out hulk can be found lurking at any large, public place with numerous exit routes, ample parking and shadowed view points. You've definitely seen one of these vans in your lifetime (probably in a suppressed childhood memory). They were invariably made by Ford and nearly all sported the classic dusty white paint job. They were driven by the discerning pedophile who realized that to operate on the fringes of society, he would have to live on the fringes of society in a triple purpose rolling home / dungeon / pedo-perch.

2. The Rolling Romp Pad

The Baron bets little Preston was pretty pleased with himself when dad handed over the keys to his aging lexus sedan, but Preston was a dull, dull boy. The real winner in the highschool car grab was young Travis who inherited a slightly rusted Starcraft vanliner from his parents. Do you know why gentle reader? Because Preston was stuck trying to plow miss school spirit in a cramped space the size of a kitchen counter in plain view of any passerby, while Travis could park, draw the curtains, walk back through the 2 rows of captain chairs and violate Peggy pigtails on a queen sized matress.

3. The Das Drugs.

Every highschool student and junky dropout shitweasel has a similar dilemma. Where to consume illegal intoxicants without being ganked by "the man"? Fortunately, the chevy van star was invented for just such purposes. Simply drive your rolling party wagon deep into the woods, throw open the double doors, pump some tunes and commence addling your brain and destroying your liver. You'll be safe from the police / parents, snugly surrounded by bears, cougars and Jason Vorhees in the all concealing forest.

4. The Second Bass Mobile.

Perhaps the most venerated conversion van of all time, The Second Bass Mobile represents everything that is good in this world. Boasting quadraphonic sound, a waterbed and now a strobe light, TSBM is a god among vans. It can serve any of the above purposes while simultaneously blowing your insignificant mind with defiant rock ballads from the 1970's. Do you dare say hello to The Second Bass Mobile? The Baron did once, and it showed him the true meaning of righteousness!


Monday, March 8, 2010