Third Party Babe Rules

by Andrew Bushard

  3 cheers for third parties!

  Chapter Thirty Two:

  I love vibrators. I know, I know, they are not that kinky, but I still love them. Most ladies do, however, few ladies enjoy vibrators as much as I enjoy vibrators.

  What color is my vibrator? Well I have more than one vibrator, actually. I have one red vibrator and one purple vibrator.

  Vibrators are a toy of joy. If only men’s dicks would vibrate when they penetrate. Vibrators are an ingenious invention, by the way.

  I love vibrators and my cunt loves vibrators even more.

  I like vibrators even more than I like diamonds. I don’t like diamonds that much, but I adore vibrators.

  My red and purple vibrators are orgasm machines. Sometimes right before I fall asleep, I insert one or both of my vibrators into my cunt. That assures erotic dreams.

  Ladies, if you haven’t ever tried a vibrator, you better get at it. What are you waiting for? Wouldn’t you like to have the same pleasure I have on a regular basis?

  Chapter Thirty Three:

  You know whom I hate? Atheists? Why do you ask?

  I have more reasons than one to deplore Atheists. It’s not because I’m a religion lover. No, not at all.

  I hate atheists because they are prudes. They think they aren’t prudes, but they are prudes.

  And atheists are cheap bastards. Atheists are freeloaders. They read my books and listen to my music and just make nasty comments. But they almost never buy my stuff. I sell mp3s for $0.99. How can you not even purchase one of those?

  Atheists think they are so cool, but they are not cool at all. They have a fetish for science. Science, science, science. I fucking hate science. It’s boring. When I think science, I think Science Club at high school. And then I remember that Science Club didn’t count the cool people as members, but the biggest dorks. I certainly don’t want to be a dork, which is why I run for office!

  I better avoid atheists because they piss me off. God, I fucking hate atheists!

  Chapter Thirty Four:

  I read somewhere (sorry I forget the source) that Marilyn Manson wanted to surgically remove some rib bones so he could perform fellatio on himself. I think Marilyn Manson is sickening and certainly not attractive, but he has a great idea.

  I would love to remove some of my rib bones so I could perform Cunninglingus on myself. I imagine removing rib bones would be painful, so I wonder if the ability to perform Cunninglingus on myself would compensate for my misery.

  I have the perfect tongue so I imagine I would give myself great Cunninglingus. But I will never know, because I’m only attracted to guys, so I sure ain’t never going to lick the cunt of another woman. Besides no other woman deserves orgasm producing Cunninglingus as much as I do. Why should I give that to another woman when I deserve it the most?

  What’s a girl to do? I’ll just have to wait until I find my male soulmate. I hope he is naturally good at Cunninglingus. I cringe at the thought of having to spend hours of practice time teaching him the ropes.

  Chapter Thirty Five:

  I want to be a full time politician. Maybe politician is not the right term. After all, usually when we call someone a politician we are insulting that person.

  Maybe “revolutionary” is a better term. I don’t know.

  I just want to hold political office. Political power arouses me. The higher the office, the more arousal. You better believe that I experienced more arousal as a governor than as a mayor, so just imagine how much arousal I will experience when I become the first female President or at least the first woman of color President.

  It’s a good thing I live in America, because to become President of the USA is sure more arousing than to become Prime Minister of the Czech Republic, not that there is anything wrong with being Prime Minister of the Czech Republic. I’m sure that would be plenty arousing. One thing is for sure it would be better than nothing.

  I just need more power. I am not holding any political power at the moment, so that troubles me. At least I have other outlets of arousal.

  Chapter Thirty Six:

  I call Tiffany again

  She answers, “Hey girl, what’s on your mind?”

  “I’m so frustrated with the porn industry!”

  “You are?”

  “Yes! I can’t find cuntbusting sites anywhere on the internet. It is so unfair. Ballbusting sites are everywhere, but you can’t find cuntbusting sites to save your life!”

  “I feel ya.”

  “In fact, about the only place I can find cuntbusting is at that “Clips 4 Sale” site. And that site does crazy stuff to my browser.”

  “Indeed, that is a dirty shame.”

  “I hope somebody fixes this someday. It’s so unfair that cuntbusting enthusiasts must go hungry.”

  “It sure is!”

  “I hope at least one day I won’t need cuntbusting sites because I will have a mate who will bust my cunt anytime I ask.”

  “I hope so too. You deserve that.”

  “You are such a supportive friend. I love you for that and for everything else.”

  Chapter Thirty Seven:

  When I ran for office it seemed everyone wanted my endorsement. Normally, I didn’t mind sharing my point of view and taking a stand.

  When it came to abortion, I struggled. I use to be pro-life in my early days, but I no longer care about the abortion issue. So I just said no comment whenever people asked about that issue. I know, I know politicians say no comment too much, but I’d rather deal with other stuff than abortion.

  So I don’t care if you are from Planned Parenthood or the Pro Life Action League, I’m just not going to deal with the issue of abortion. No endorsements regarding abortion will come from me, ever!

  Surely people are pissed at me, but who the fuck cares. My fans and voters don’t care. They love me no matter what.

  What we need most of all is to focus on third parties. Let’s unite so third parties can seize power from Republicrats.

  I envision a better day, a day of third party reign.

  Chapter Thirty Eight:

  I am going to try an experiment. Don’t try this at home because you’re not as awesome as me.

  I purchased some ghost peppers and ground them up in my blender making a nice paste. I snap on latex gloves.

  I bet you can’t guess what I’m going to do.

  Yup, I’m applying this ghost pepper paste to my perfect cunt.

  Within seconds, I feel it! Ye, ye, ye, weeeeeeeee.

  Ah, oh, ah, eh, ah.

  How do I describe this?

  Not painful.

  Heavenly Nirvana.

  I feel like those enlightened Buddhas who live so virtuously that become Gods.

  Only Gods could feel this good.

  My cunt reddens. Then miraculously, it returns to normal.

  I don’t have just an ordinary cunt. I have a cunt that not only tolerates ghost pepper paste, but relishes it.

  I bet you would scream bloody murder if I rubbed jalapeno paste on your cunt if you have a cunt.

  Me, on the hand, I can take it and enjoy it.

  I’m cool like that.

  Chapter Thirty Nine:

  I love to read but I don’t love all genres, mind you. In fact, I generally hate fiction. I love nonfiction. Like I mentioned earlier, I enjoy biographies. I also enjoy all types of nonfiction.

  Now, there is one type of fiction I can stomach. What? Oh, erotica, of course.

  Yup, erotica is the only fiction I can stand.

  I love all types of erotica, but of course, I prefer BDSM erotica. I love erotic romance too. Plain old romance is a little boring for my tastes. Give me erotica.

  I enjoyed the indie erotica short stories Paula’s Penance and The Submissive Reformation. Check them out if you can. Support indie authors whenever possible, especially writers of exciting erotica.

  I am open to suggestions as well. I always love to explore new erotica. I don’t necessarily shy away from corpor
ate erotica; I just prefer indie erotica.

  Angela loves erotica! I am so thankful God invented erotica. What would we do without it? Die, probably. Let’s not even go there.

  Chapter Forty:

  I come from middle class roots. My daddy was petit bourgeois. He owned a small business that prospered.

  I personally don’t have any objections with the petit bourgeoisie or even the bourgeoisie. I don’t employ anyone at the moment, but I don’t think we should have any objections to that really. Syndicalists, Socialists, and Marxists all condemn the petit bourgeoisie and the bourgeoisie, but maybe they are wrong. Ever consider that?

  I enjoy reading political theory whether it is Syndicalism, Socialism, Marxism, Libertarianism, or Anarchism. I just don’t like reading Republicrat political theory. Not only is that shit boring, but it also sucks.

  I hope you don’t hate or envy me for having middle class roots. My daddy earned his money after all, so unless you worked as hard as he did, you don’t deserve to envy him. And it doesn’t matter what the anti-capitalists say: YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO ENVY SOMEONE UNLESS YOU WORK AS HARD AS THEY DO.

  I hate lazy motherfuckers. I hate unmotivated leaches. I hate slothful parasites.

  Chapter Forty One:

  Today I go out to the shooting range. I don’t go hunting, because remember I’m a vegan. The shooting range is okay. Gun skills are important. I need guns for personal defense if nothing else. Besides, shooting guns is just fun.

  Sometimes I get tempted to join a militia. Most politicians would never do that, but third party politicians are different.

  If I lived in Michigan, I could join the Michigan Militia. Then they could feature me on their “Militia Babes” calendar. I’d love to pose for that calendar.

  Maybe I should start my own militia as after all I’m a self-starter and a leader. I could setup an all-women’s militia under the Vision Revolution Party.

  I admit I feel great fondness for militias. So maybe I should join some militia or start some militia. I wonder what God wants me to do.

  At any rate, I love shooting guns. I don’t have time to get into the specifics of gun types and all, but just rest assured I love guns whether wimpy or powerful.

  Chapter Forty Two:

  Want to know another political stance of mine? I am a pro union girl. Yes sir, I have a 100% approval rating from the AFL-CIO, SEIU, and every other union that gives approval ratings.

  Unions rock. Unions rock. Unions rock.

  Say that one more time.

  In fact, if you want to understand me as a person, you have to understand my pro-union point of view.

  Maybe my soulmate will be a union supporter. Maybe my soulmate will be a union member. Maybe my soulmate will be a union leader.

  Some of the political posters in my home are union related. I love the union messages. Additionally, I read nonfiction books about unions and union activists.

  Whoever you may be, please join a union. That way you can seize power from oppressive bosses. We need less tyranny in the world, so we need more unions in the world.

  Overthrow bad bosses! Join a union today!

  Props to unions. Props to unions. Props to unions. Amen.

  Chapter Forty Three:

  Today I purchased some clothespins. Not for the purpose of hanging clothes, but for a more fun purpose.

  I got these clothespins for the purpose of sexual arousal. In other words I got them for my cunt.

  This is going to sound awfully masochistic, but I love pinching the skin of my cunt with clothespins. Don’t worry it doesn’t cause any permanent damage, only temporary joy. After all, do you think a girl who can tolerate ghost pepper paste on her cunt will mind clothespins?

  My clit celebrates each time I add another pinching clothespin to my cunt. If you are a woman, I suggest trying this. Not everyone enjoys such things, so maybe you can stay with regular masturbation. Hell, if you are a dude, put clothespins on your dick and balls.

  Wood clothespins are okay, but my clit likes metal clothespins better. Does this qualify as cuntbusting? It better. When the world lacks cuntbusting, you got to do all you can to add it to your life.

  Yes, you are welcome for me educating you on this awesome cuntbusting technique.

  Chapter Forty Four:

  I made up a new song. I’m going to share it with the public for the very first time, so you are damn lucky. Never forget that.

  This song does not have a title yet, but I wrote the music in a melodic punk style.

  “Rimming, rimming, rimming.

  Rimming is slimming

  Don’t ‘reach for a Lucky instead of a sweet’

  Instead reach for a rimming afternoon treat

  Rim in the darkness

  Rim in the light

  Delight

  Satisfaction

  Rimming, rimming, rimming

  Your tongue belongs on my ass

  That’s the first place it shall be

  Rimming is free

  I love God for giving the human race rimming

  Rimming is a nice pin prick

  Rimming always does the trick

  Rimming for the masses

  Rimming for the asses

  Rimming is special.

  Rimming, rimming, rimming.”

  They are not going to play this on the radio of course, but let’s hope this song will make my band a profit on the underground scene.

  Chapter Forty Five:

  Another thing you need to know about me: I have a black belt. Not in just one type of martial arts, but in multiple types. I have a black belt in Karate, Tae Kwon Do, Judo, and Kung Fu.

  I pity anyone who tries to mess with me.

  I don’t have much time for it anymore, but I have dabbled in Mixed Martial Arts. I won all the 20 bouts I fought. Not bad, if I may say so myself.

  I love the discipline of martial arts. I also love how they empower you and make you invincible. Invincible, you ask? Yes, if you can kick anyone’s ass, you are invincible.

  Street thugs aren’t disciplined so I can easily kick their ass. I certainly love my martial arts skills.

  I have a room at home dedicated to just my martial arts awards and belts.

  I don’t have time to practice these days given all my activities, political and otherwise, but I still have reaped enormous benefits from all my training.

  I do consider my martial arts training an indispensable part of my empowering life journey.

  Chapter Forty Six:

  I’m typing away at my computer and I get spam. I read it from top to bottom. This spam messages infuriates me! I stomp my feet and shaking my fist!

  You are probably thinking I’m being melodramatic about mere spam. After all, everyone gets spam every day, don’t they?

  Well, this is no ordinary spam.

  It’s from the Republican Democrat Coalition to Outlaw Third Parties! I won’t bother reading you the entire message as if you have a heart it will only outrage you. I have never felt more hate in my entire life!

  This spam message threatens my very existence! We cannot let it go unchecked. Don’t anyone ever dare ban what Angela lives for! I hate the Republican Democrat Coalition to Outlaw Third Parties. If they think they are going to abolish third parties, we are going to abolish them!

  I storm out the door. I need a walk like I never before in my entire life! Fuck the fucking Republican Democrat Coalition to Outlaw Third Parties!

  Chapter Forty Seven:

  My feet stomp so hard on the street, I’m surprised I haven’t made holes in the ground. I am fucking pissed!

  The walking does manage to make me feel better. I’m still plenty angry, so today is not the day to mess with me. Walking just helps a little.

  As I’m crossing the street some bozo bumps into me. You’ve picked the wrong day, buster! I tumble to the ground; not hurt, just furious!

  Surprisingly, my nipples harden. Arousal! Something happened to me when this bozo shoved his body against mine.r />
  He barks, “Watch where you are walking, cunt!”

  What a prick! He is blaming me for this!

  He accuses, “It looks like you were too focused on your own thoughts to watch where you were going. Here, take one of these fliers.” He tosses one of his fliers at me and it happens to fall into my red and purple purse. Oops, in my haste, I neglected to zip my purse.

  I dust myself off and pick myself up. Before I can get a good look at him, he has left the scene.

  Ugh!

  Chapter Forty Eight:

  After a hot bath and some r and r, I finally take a look at his flier.

  It reads,

  “You Are Formally Invited to Attend the Concert of the Best Rock Band in Texas, the Republican Dream Machine.

  Please bring professional clothing to the concert.

  Please bring a donation of at least $5.00 to donate to the Trump for President Campaign.

  Be there or be square!

  VFW Hall, 1345 Westin Lane, Austin, TX, 78729.

  http://www.RepublicanDreamMachine.com.”

  What the fuck? I feel dizzy and I feel funny.

  Still somehow I want to attend this event. What is getting into me? Maybe I want to topple this campaign so third parties can reign.

  Life is sure interesting sometimes.

  I just better call Tiffany about this. I feel conflicted. Talking to her always makes me feel better, not to mention clear headed.