Call this world Ishmael. Here, the Austronesian, Turkic, and Afroasian nations are superpowers...as is the common Allah they worship.
Like a wee degenerate, a spider crawls around the breadth of the tennis court. For it, it's a very big world. And yet, for the most part, some still fear her...
She gets to a dandelion growing from a crack, and stops. To her, the dandelion is very big. She could probably spin a web between it and the weeds that surround it, if...
From above, a woman's humongous shoe comes down, and pancakes the poor arachnid where it stands. She doesn't stand a chance. That shoe looks brand new, too. It still smells of leather.
Armed with a racquet in hand, the shoe's owner runs around the court, in a revealing silver-grey tennis outfit. Like a champ among Jews, she smacks the ball each time.
Meet Fawn Moscato. She's a leader of the Jewish nation if anyone ever saw one. She makes Abraham, Moses, and King David look like old men with failing penises. And to think that David once stole Bathsheba from Uriah...
On a bench nearby, a younger man sits. Ms. Moscato calls him Stein. He's her page. To many a Jew, he's just an ordinary Mecklenburger degenerate... And yet, Ms. Moscato just hates to imagine where she'd be without her little Mecklenburger of a Pomeranian.
Today, she plays one of her biggest opponents in politics. His name is Netanyahu. He's a conservative. Yep; he believes in Zion, and that anyone who doesn't is just as much a degenerate as a white man is. He's married, and while he runs no company of his own, he is the scion of one, and naturally, as a conservative politician, he has more than a few very rich financiers from Rostock, Stralsund, and GdaĆsk.
In this day and age on Ishmael, Mecklenburg-Vorpommern is a member state of the Israeli Confederation. It has a bicameral parliament with an all-Jewish Senate. The Senate is much bigger than the lower house.
Mecklenburg-Vorpommern also has a more Mediterranean climate than you could probably imagine. Crete's not too far from it...and nor are Apulia, Albania, or Tuzla. It's pretty far from Israel, though...but then, what would one expect? These are Germans and Poles...and they're white.
Ms. Moscato just can't resist the urge. So, he doesn't. As the ball comes back to her, she swats it very hard.
She hits Netanyahu in the balls. He squalls, bends over, and spins around in circles. Ms. Moscato giggles. She can tell that he's SO tempted to lie down and take a break...
Nonetheless, the game continues. In time, Ms. Moscato does the same thing again. She giggles. Netanyahu may be an old man, but at least he can prove himself worthy of Yahweh's omnipotence, whenever he's put to the test... Or, so he MUST tell himself, if he ever hopes to maintain the conservatives' faith...
For the rest of the day, the Great Fawn Moscato swats tennis balls into her opponent's ball sack. She's not worried at all. He can take it. It's his job. He's Yahweh's envoy on Ishmael, for fuck's sake. He might as well be Dr. Manhattan, from DC Comics.
On the bench, Stein trembles, as he watches this. As much as he loves to see great men fall... He can't help but sense that his boss is overdoing this, just a wee bit...
Netanyahu doesn't say a thing. But then, he probably respects women more than they're worth...even if they are jennies among Jews... (And he DOESN'T mean the one that Jesus once rode on.)
By the end of the match, Netanyahu is just about sterile. He's too sore to walk...and too falsetto to even speak. For this, Ms. Moscato rejoices. With luck, she's ended the patriline of Abraham for sure...
All around her side of the court, she raises her bare arms, and does a victory dance. For her, this is jubilee. It hasn't even been fifty years since the last one yet...
Stein just LOVES to watch his boss dance. She'll never know.
In a hurry, two of Netanyahu's valets swarm onto the court. They take their boss by an arm each, and haul him off the court. One of them flips Ms. Moscato the bird.
Ms. Moscato reacts by taking one last ball, screaming like a harpy, and sending it hurling over the net. It hits the cursing valet in the ass, crippling him. Alas, he just has to limp, as he hauls his boss off the court.
Victorious, Ms. Moscato prepares to retire. She addresses her page, and gives him her racquet.
She grabs his shirt collar, and pulls him to where he's facing her. With her hand, she messes up his hair. With both hands, he straightens his shirt collar. She dusts off his shirt. She pulls a cloth from her clutch, and wipes off his face.
For all this time, he gets to look down her chest. He'll never have any idea how lucky he is to be a Jewish commissar's little degenerate pageboy.
In reality, she's a Senator...which might be worse. Without luck, she'll be premier one day. She's already on the Senate HUD Committee.
She drives a very long white limo. Or rather, Stein drives it for her.
Like a good page, he holds the back door open, so that his boss can get in. He closes it for her, half-circles the limo, and mounts it. He starts the engine, and takes off, through the weekend rush of Kosher Rostock.
He lowers the trap door between the front seats and the back, so he can hear his boss give him orders, if she does. He can't say he's ever anticipated his boss's orders. But he'd be lying if he ever said that following them isn't fun in its own subtle way.
In the back, Ms. Moscato starts texting various Jewish politicians. They're all left-wing...like her. Alas, these days, it's hard for a Jewish jenny in heat to find a jackass that isn't so stubborn...or a mule, even...
Jewish mules aren't so much stubborn, as they are too independent for women...or at least, for women as high-ranking as Ms. Moscato. As malleable as they can be, it's hard to believe that they come from a jackass's balls. As valuable as they are, it's hard to believe that their own balls are invirile.
It's just as well. If socialism produced too many mules, it'd be just as corrupt as the right. At least mules do have one social cripple, in that they can't have foals. Not that Ms. Moscato wants any foals... Alas, people change a lot when they grow. Seems like only yesterday, to Ms. Moscato, that she told her practically Jewish supremacist parents that she didn't want to be a practicing Jew anymore.
She still can't believe she had to tell them. She was making that SO obvious for months, up to that point... Or rather, it FELT like she was, anyway...
For some reason, the app recommends a certain female bisexual to Ms. Moscato. The app says her name is "Silka Ophir." Her profile photo looks a lot like one of Gal Gadot. It also says she's the president of Israel. Ms. Moscato only scoffs, and swipes past her.
After rejecting a shitload of profiles on at least five dating apps, Ms. Moscato finally puts her smartphone away, and sighs, flapping her lips like an actual jenny does when she sighs as such.
Up front, Stein only grins. "Trouble in paradise again, boss?"
She nods. "Don't act so happy about it. I know that, as a politician, I'm supposed to be autonomous, and a bitch of steel without men." She shakes her head. "But damn, if I won't always love them..."
Before Stein, a light turns green. He starts to roll through it.
"Well you know, boss... It's often said that in order for one to find love, one only has to look right under their own nose..."
He's cut off by a tragedy. As he rolls through the intersection, a truck, coming from the side, totally misses a red light. Ms. Moscato is fine...although she does scream a lot in the aftermath.
Stein, alas, isn't as lucky. He's been hurt. And in IMV, it does NOT pay to be a German victim of a traffic accident.
Terrified, his boss calls 911. She's not trying to; she just does.
