69 Hues of Canada:
John A MacDonald and Pocahontas experiment with Autoerotic Cultural Assimilation
(Alternative title: 69 Hues of Disney 358/2 days)
About the Author:
Buster Manwomb has the body of two emaciated third graders, and the sense of humor of half an emaciated second grader. Having upgraded their living situation to the chemical dumpster behind a Home Hardware, they may be writing this story higher than usual.
Chapter One: Where the fuck did this roommate come from?!
Pocahontas Was chilling in her living room on her day off from celebrating her culture and not dying of small-pox. Instead she was practicing some of her favorite pastimes like living on fertile land and not getting overrepresented in prison populations when she looked to the right and saw that her wall had been replaced by a bulldozer piloted by some pasty drunk in stupid fucking clothes.
"What in fornication?" Pocahintas shrieked. That wall was among my favorite of walls?"
"Fuck it, eh! I live here now!"
Because Pocahontas is tolerant and unarmed, she assuminged that where the pasty man is from, bulldozing walls is actually a casual greeting, and therefore does not Pocahontas to want to scalp the filthy wegro.
"Whatever. You're giving me obsolete guns and homeopathic remedies when I throw furs at you so I guess you can stay-Augh!"
Pocahontus ate shit when John A MacDonald ate the contents of the room, warped them in his intestines and shit out a "genuine indian experience." chain of summer camps run by rapists and/or a destitute scoutmaster.
"What are you doing to my room?" Pocahuntas argued.
"I have a gun" John A MacDonald shot her with his gun. Was the gun his penis? I'll decide later. "This room is mine! Do into the next room and I'll only deny your voting rights if you didnt fight in World Wars!"
"But that is a shitty room!" Pocahontas didnt like the room because it was hundreds of miles north and was hard to farm and probably lacked any clean water.
"Fuck off!" John A MacDonald said, killing all the buffalo in the kitchen so Pocahontas would starve and be motivated to move into the shitty room in exchange for aid. As the palen drunkard mouth-noised, he sensually procuring his penis, which looked like every character in A Bug's Life glued together. It was a metaphor for colonial cultures.
"I am not into that." Pocahontas quephlasted
"I will respect how much you want it inside of you." John A Macdonald Barfed between unhealthy servings of low quality scotch. His penis was beginning to invade every verdent orifice that a european would ever want to build shit on.
"Okay." Pocahontas cranked.
"How much of my penis, her I dub Crankshaft the negative sevenveen and eighteen nineteenths!" John A MacDonald dubbed his penis negotiably. "Do you want all up in you!"
"None!" Said, assuming that John A MacDonald would respect the oral agreement they had made moments ago.
Oh, uh, Trigger Warning. Rape. Back out now and I will allow you to acknowledge the alternate ending of "And then an alien superhero made of tigers ate John A Macdonald to death" in exchange for the ritual slaughter of 3 hawaiian cabbages in the glorious name of the dark Lord Smegma."
Back to the metaphor.
And so, Crankshaft the seventeenth and eighteen nineteenths got all up in Pocahontas, making just enough bits of her be indoctrinated so that they wound up liking it.
"A yes!" John A Macdonald heard Pocahontas say, declaring her a ward of the state so the government could make their decisions of their behalf, such as assuring presumed consent.
Pocahontas was right sick of this and went to the shitty room, hoping at least that it was so out of the way that Crankshaft the seventeen and eighteen nineteenths would go up there except to take away their children and have different priests fight over who gets to molest and/or recruit the children. Of course even that had it's own difficulty since every time Pocahiontas tried to hunt seals in the room she'd get interrupted by rich lesbians with talk shows that didn't like that pocahontas' staple food source was cute.
"Oh yes Imma cum!" John A Macdonald listened to America's Got Talent compilations as he got narrated, impregnating Pocahontas and denying the children either the systemic benefits of being either fully native or pasty.
"Shit." Pocahontas said, lamenting that this was written with as much though or consideration as the government has actually given to native groups.
John A Macdonald died, probably in a puddle of his own pickled bile.
Unfortunately, Crankshaft the Seventeenth and eighteen nineteenths continued to be all up inside pocahontas. Every few decades a politicians would pull it out a little bit and call it progress, to this very day.
Even today the penis stays in indigenous people, despite the penis being shaken by leaders whose glistening beauty was inversely proportional to his capacity to own up to any of his campaign promises, who likes to brag about how much theyre pulling on it, except when they try to shove pipelines through pocahontas' room.
And that is why I don't think we should have a statue of John A Macdonald in front of our school. Thank you.
Technically, your facts are in older. Please see me regarding your formatting and domestic situation.
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Tune In Next Time for "69 Hues of Disney 4: Thomas the Tank Engine Tries it in the Caboose"!
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