Chapter 13
To read from the beginning, click on the cute picture of Iverson to the right of this post.
The first object to enter Trump's apartment was the butt of a rifle belonging to private first class Thomas Glimme, followed, shortly thereafter, by Thomas Glimme himself, all one hundred and eighteen pounds of him. Iverson had enough presence to conjure up a Photo-Hut sized boulder which completely blocked the doorway behind private Glimme, keeping the rest of the guard out of the penthouse, at least temporarily. Thomas squinted. Dust and smoke still hung in the air. Shrapnel, crushed pottery, and pieces of furniture covered the floor. 'Like the morning after a really good party,' thought Thomas, surveying the scene. He looked under the remains of the desk and caught sight of the possum-my DT wearing what appeared to be a muzzle, alternately bellowing and crying next to an enormous butterfly-like creature in camouflage tentatively removing a gas mask from his face.
Thomas's orders were to shoot to kill anyone not fitting the description Donald Trump, and possum-man certainly didn't. And he figured that Iverson was some weird new biological weapon of mass destruction, but Thomas was also a biologist, and couldn't bring himself to destroy these specimens.
Meanwhile rifle butts and combat boots were crashing through the front wall of the penthouse."
This is a work of fiction.
Also, Chapter 12 has a huge oops in it. I repeated a couple of paragraphs. If you're confused, I've fixed it, and you can read it correctly (I hope.)
To read from the beginning, click on the cute picture of Iverson to the right of this post.
The first object to enter Trump's apartment was the butt of a rifle belonging to private first class Thomas Glimme, followed, shortly thereafter, by Thomas Glimme himself, all one hundred and eighteen pounds of him. Iverson had enough presence to conjure up a Photo-Hut sized boulder which completely blocked the doorway behind private Glimme, keeping the rest of the guard out of the penthouse, at least temporarily. Thomas squinted. Dust and smoke still hung in the air. Shrapnel, crushed pottery, and pieces of furniture covered the floor. 'Like the morning after a really good party,' thought Thomas, surveying the scene. He looked under the remains of the desk and caught sight of the possum-my DT wearing what appeared to be a muzzle, alternately bellowing and crying next to an enormous butterfly-like creature in camouflage tentatively removing a gas mask from his face.
Thomas's orders were to shoot to kill anyone not fitting the description Donald Trump, and possum-man certainly didn't. And he figured that Iverson was some weird new biological weapon of mass destruction, but Thomas was also a biologist, and couldn't bring himself to destroy these specimens.
Meanwhile rifle butts and combat boots were crashing through the front wall of the penthouse."
This is a work of fiction.
Also, Chapter 12 has a huge oops in it. I repeated a couple of paragraphs. If you're confused, I've fixed it, and you can read it correctly (I hope.)
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