In some strange manner I was transported last night, across the
state and allowed to stretch my legs in a prison cell in Washington D.C.
I cannot say why I was arrested, detained they said, but it is
inexplicable to me that the FBI arrested-detained-transported me to a prison
cell in Washington D.C. because I have a private computer email server humming
in my basement.
The very important fact is that I maintain email servers for
government officials and my own home in Virginia has several computer email servers
running at this very minute.
You can go to Google and look up my company name "Green
Mars" and I offer confidential computer services.
When they stuffed me into the car they kept asking me about
Hillary Clinton and her secret email server and using some imaginative
questions they guessed I was the insider that hacked into government servers
under the name of "Tarzan" and I was bound for jail due to top secret
documents being held on many of my servers.
It seems I might be remembered as the guy that got Hillary Clinton
arrested for treason, but it's a little too early for that conclusion.
As their captive, inside a government building they gave me good
fresh hot coffee and a McDonalds hamburger with fries and watched me eat using
cameras and one way mirrors.
A women agent, FBI or NSA I'm not sure kept me company and
honestly she was a princess and her wonderfully sculptured body captured me at
first glance. If I wasn't going to be
killed when the sun came up I would surly discover that I fell in love inside
the cell with one long metal table and three wood chairs.
Desperately I wanted to leave or at least call a lawyer but in the
dead of night I was persuaded to talk, just a little. The princess told me I could go to the
bathroom but if I tried to escape she would manage to ship me off to GITMO so I
managed not to escape and returned in less than two minutes with her standing
outside of the men's room.
After some verbal wandering around I told them that I maintained
computer servers for a lot of people in government, not all of them in the
United States of America. I stumbled
around some more and told them, yes, Hillary and Bill Clinton had been clients
for years but it was mostly Bill Clintons porn collection as the princess
leaned forward and took one of my fries. At that very moment I felt like she
controlled the air in the room as it got a little hotter as she moved closer,
surely she made it possible for me to live or die.
A wise guy opened the door which resulted in a wave of silence as
he just stood there with his three inch file folder. You could surmise that he was the boss as the
badge on his leather belt was gold in color.
This guy was the real gate keeper, at least that's what I thought.
The princess remained outwardly friendly but the guy was full of
suspicion and he placed a great deal of fear inside my head and heart.
He knew all my secrets, I just knew it. He just stood over me for a while which had
to be a trained tactic and let me tell you, it works. Him standing over me was like a dagger being
held over me so cautiously I took a sip of coffee and tried to remain relaxed.
I came up with a wild idea, almost a scheme to get out of jail and
that was to tell the truth, at least a fictional side of the truth.
My host princess pushed the chair back and the gold badge guy took
her seat and I could almost feel his thought waves enter my brain.
He acted like he had the keys to everything. Stealthily he opened the file folder and
pulled out three computer sheets and slid them across the desk which was only
30 inches wide and was the only corridor between me and the gold badge guy.
I finally reached out and picked up the papers as my host princess
kept by herself in the corner. Some
great door in my brain had been opened because what I was holding was my
company's billing to the Bill, Hillary
and Chelsea Clinton Foundation for the last three quarters which totaled
$300,000.00 total.
I wanted a hiding place but the room was too small.
I felt the liberty and freedom being taken away.
Concentrating my mind I tossed the papers back down and crossed my
arms and waited for the next move.
"Is that your billing" it was all the gold badge said.
With just a little hesitation and rambling I said "Yes"
Awakened, my princess got out of her sleepy mood and walked back
over to the table.
"You are the enemy of the state!" she walked back over to the corner.
The gold badge started asking me questions and with some
hospitality he offered to shoot me several times. With the same cordiality my princess told me
after a few years of resting and recuperating in a prison cell maybe I would
want to remember more about Hillary Clinton and her private email servers.
The gold badge took out three more sheets of paper which was more
of my billing for computer services. It
clearly showed that my company "Green Mars" charged $215 a month for
services, the exact same services and not the one hundred thousand dollars I
charged the Clinton Foundation.
"I can lower the rifles if you talk Tarzan." the gold badge told me the story of a firing
squad at GITMO and the small house on the beach he would stay in while I rotted
in jail or was shot.
I was ready to go home but they took me out of the holding cell and
had their on-staff barber cut all my hair off and now I was bald which was not
my prevailing fashion. They made me take
off my clothes as the princess watched and stuffed me into a jump outfit as my
princess bent over and gave me a kiss good bye right on the mouth.
The princess assured me that I would have ample opportunity to
have a lawyer from the comfort of GITMO as they were going to have me charged
with Treason against the United States of America.
The princess bid me farewell as the gold badge walked out of sight
and around the corner leaving me and the princess alone on the loading dock
waiting for my ride, I guess.
A huge brute walked out the door and he was giving me a lot of
unwelcomed attention as the transport vehicle backed up to the concrete ramp. The real big guy put my hands behind my back
and put on the steel cuffs and tugged on them to make sure they were tight.
The princess gave me another affectionate farewell promising me
good times to come on the island of Cuba inside GITMO. The adventure started to fade as my own
safety came to my mind.
My heart almost stopped, these were not government agents.
These were Clinton agents.
Like lightning fear pulsed through my body.
"Who are you!" I yelled inside the transport vehicle
strapped to the walls by my handcuffs.
The big guy just smiled, almost laughing.
They were surely going to kill me.
I was on Hillary Clinton's hit list and I would be bounced around
like a rubber ball and buried in the desert or shot in Cuba.
Those really bad thirty seconds of though passed but I still felt
like I was lost at sea and nobody would discover me.
"My friend, we are friends of Vladimir." the huge brute
talked.
"You will be back in Moscow tomorrow afternoon and have
dinner with Vladimir and other comrades." he turned toward me and shortly
took off my cuffs.
"We wanted to make sure the world saw you hauled away, but
you can relax now as you're going home to Russia my friend." the large man
pulled out his embassy badge of the Russian Empire.
"You will be rewarded by the people and Vladimir as we have
all the American Secrets now. The FBI will
advertise their indictment against Hillary and Bill Clinton in less than 24
hours and she will point to you as the hacker, the leaker and the Russian spy,
keeping her out of federal prison."
"You will be home in Russia."
I had only been in Russia twice in my life. Once as a small baby that I don't remember
after my birth and one college trip over twenty years ago.
I was sent to American schools and lived in New York City all my
life and worked to get close to power.
All for mother Russia.
Yes, we had all the secrets, we've had them for years, she was
sloppy about security, in Russia she would stand for trial, and there would be
only one ending.
The plaza in Russia was wet as I walked into the cafe and greeted
the early morning patrons. My meeting
with Vladimir at his gorgeous mansion entirely amazed me.
Hillary was indicted by the DOJ Department of Justice in America
introducing her to the criminal side of her actions.
After examination the radical Barack Obama pardoned her on all
charges and if necessary scolded her on T.V. even though he acknowledge that
she was an accomplished champion of government.
They never knew I was a Russian operative and even at times I
forgot as I truly grew up in America.
Repairing computers and dainty little computer chips got me inside the
American government and my one-man business got me the secrets.
It was my fourth day in Mother Russia and my promotion in society
brought me a fine home in Moscow next to one of the waterways with boats
floating by my windows.
Evidently I was now a wanted man in America and their CIA warriors
were watching me I was told. I also
heard that Hillary Clinton squealed in terror when she was charged with treason
and blamed it on some mishap by an unknown Russian Spy, that was me.
The ceremony at the Vladimir Putin mansion suggested that I was a
hero but in all reality I never reviewed any of the documents, they could all
have been about Chelsea Clinton's wedding.
I saw the Russian troops move into position across the street from
the cafe and earnestly glancing up at me and occasionally giving me a little
wave of assurance. I would be safe here,
just like Snowden.
I dropped my cell phone by accident and the little machine broke
apart and that's when I noticed my Russian cell phone had what we called
air-scout chips installed on the circuit boards.
It should be no surprise that Vladimir spies on his own spies
during these dangerous times with America.
When I left the cafe I was escorted to my home and entered my
household and did not perceive the person waiting for me until it was too late.
From some hiding place the woman leaped at me and gained the
advantage and knocked me down to the floor.
With some strange weaving her nude body encircled me and my princess
readily gave me her body.
Her face was as beautiful as I remember inside the cell room in
America as my own guards were looking through the curtains from the outside,
one of them waved at me.
It was good to be home.
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