Friday, 30 January 2009

Chapter 3 - Whiskey in the Jar

The one thing he desired before he went to bed that night was easy enough to obtain. It could be found in any supermarket, any corner store. And yet he couldn’t get to it. It cost only 20 bucks. Yet, he couldn’t buy it. Not even though he had a personal fortune of 800 million dollars if he calculated his small share of the total Strong family wealth and that amounted to more than 3 trillion dollars if all the investments in property, stocks and shares, hedge funds, oil, metals, gold and drugs were counted up.

He shouldn’t have had any interest in it anyway. He had declared to the entire country he didn’t give a damn about it anymore. It was history, passe. But deep down he craved it, longed for it, hungered for it, for a way out, an escape from the pressures and the stress after that hectic day starting early that morning with his visit to the elementary school in Florida....

And that night he gave way to temptation…. He struggled. How he struggled! But the craving was too strong. He was sitting on the cream couch in the Oval Office, trying to chill out. The chimes of a clock struck midnight.

He’d just closed his eyes in exhaustion. What a day! He yanked down my tie and put his cleaned and shining shoes up on a coffee table. A jumbled up stream of images rolled through his brain - planes crashing into skyscrapers, firefighters rushing into smoke, motorcases with blue lights flashing. He emptied his mind, and all of a sudden, he saw... a bottle of whiskey. A bottle of Jack D was visible to his interior eye! The liquid had the colour of pure gold. There was such a radiance about it, it was almost as if the whiskey had a luminous property of its own. It was so bright, it actually seemed to be a source of light. Like the stars, the moon or the sun! His heartbeast quickened with desire.

He opened his eyes – and saw an eagle staring at him.

It took him a moment to realise it was actually the imperial eagle symbol that was placed just about everywhere inside the White House. The way the eagle stared at him like that always made him uneasy. He couldn’t stand the way it looked at him with that glint in its eye and with its beak pulled up in an expression of such arrogant disdain, like it was something special and he was just a piece of dirt. So what if it has all these crests and mottos all over it? That eagle looked so aggressive, it reminded him of the Veep. He also has that look in his eyes when he didn’t get what he wanted.

“I’m trapped!” George suddenly thought to himself, looking around widlly at the office lit up only by a couple of lamps.

His heart started pounding. He jumped to his feet. He slammed his fist down on the desk.

“I’m trapped in this hole! I can't get out! I'm a prisoner!"

A surge of anger, even hatred came over him. He detested the prison that his life had become! He loathed the constant, relentless duties, rituals, ceremonies, meetings, conferences, briefings, rules and regulations! He was just the front man for a vast operation, and never allowed an moment's rest. He was sick and tired of all the demands heaped on him. He wanted to blot it all out, once and for all, escape. Just let the world sink. Sink beneath the waves! He thought to himself as he walked over to a drinks cabinet. For guests. Strictly for guests.

“But aren't I a guest too?” he thought to himself, frowning, as he turned the key in the stiff lock. “Aren't I a guest in this world?”

He opened the cabinet, took out a bottle of whiskey. He unscrewed the cap and poured some of the golden liquid into a crystal glass.

"Just one little drink is not going to make a big difference, is it?" He thought to himself, clutching his chest.

He’d been dry and clean now for almost 20 years now. Heck, he was as sober as a grizzly bear. One little drink was nothing.

It was the smell that got to him first. Why should he use such a vulgar word as smell to describe the bouquet that greeted his nostrils as he bent over and inhaled? The word fragrance would better describe the heavenly, blissful, divine scent that filled his whole being. He breathed in the scent of the whiskey and he could have sworn he was breathing in the spices of the orient. He breathed in the magic of palm trees and date trees of Arabia. That moment, memories came to him of a time long ago when he was young man and still able to enjoy life, play baseball, down bottles of bourbon, without worrying constantly about the family business.

He twirled the glass in his hand, slowly, savouring the scent. Then he lifted the glass a few centimetres up to his nose and inhaled again. This time the bouquet was even stronger and more enticing. He took one sip - and it seemed to him that spirit of life itself in liquid form slid down his throat and filled his soul with fire. That pure fire grew inside him and burned away all the negative emotions of fear, shame and guilt. He walked back to the sofa and sat down, nursing his glass in his hand revelling in not having to think for a change about the nightmare his life had become.

“And to think it's all just started!” he groaned as he ran his hand through his hair.

After the false flag operation that day on the World Trade Center, he would have to enact a whole raft of executive orders as well as federal legislation to rescind the Constitution and Civil rights and authorising wiretapping and surevillance under the pretext of fighting terrorists. Then, he would have to start series of wars in Afghanisatan and in Iran to get control of the drugs triangle and the oil while pretending all the time it was to protect America from terrorists.

In addition, he had to help engineer the collapse of the world's financial system so that his fund could buy up as many assets as cheaply as possible. The millions of impoverished people would have to be put into concentration camps after martial law was declared. A universal military draft would be introduced to get Americans, who might otherwise start a revolution, into army and fighting Russia and China, and any other countries that were starting to challenge the elite’s power. The United Nations would be called in to take charge of the chaos in America; it would split the US into two with two capital cities, Denver and Atlanta. But that was all due to take place after he left office when his two terms were completed in 2008, and he found it hard that think so far ahead, especially when he felt so exhausted.

Sitting on the couch, sipping his whiskey, he got confused about whether Washington DC was going to be the Illuminati cultural site or New York under the UN. By the time, he got through half the bottle of Jack D, he couldn’t remember if New York was going to be declared the United Nations Capital city for the Earth or New Orleans?

He couldn’t remember either whether the chemtrails, genetically engineered crops and viruses were designed to eliminate people in Africa, Central America or North America or in all of those places.

By the time, he finished the bottle of whiskey, his mind was so hazy he wasn’t sure whether a staged alien invasion would occur forcing all nations, religious and cultures to surrender their identities to the United Nations or whether the United Nations would surrender to the aliens.

He was getting so mixed up he wasn’t even sure if the New World Religion was a cult of Satan or a cult of Prince Emmnanuel and Princess Diana. As for the cloned Christ scheduled to come after 2010, he couldn’t remember whether it was supposed to come from Mars or Pluto.

As he staggered to his feet in the early hours of the morning, he wasn’t sure if the Pokemon and Teletubbies were going to be microchipped and given mandatory identification cards or the Ninja Turtles.

Stumbling across the room, he asked himself if the frozen moons of Saturn and Jupiter and Neptune really would become earth-like after a special comet missile had changed Jupiter’s orbit…He asked himself whether this nightmare of a plan leading to a New World Order had really been properly through through… He put down his glass, so dizzy he had to steady himself by leaning against a door. Outside the French windows, he saw the first light of dawn and the dark shadows of the trees in the Rose Garden.

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