Duck and Cover

Che Guevara looked out onto the open seas from his palace balcony. Stroking his beard, he span around on a heel and skipped down the stairs. "Batton the hatches, strike the sails open!" He squeeled in his high pitched squeel. "I am going to go on my boat, gather the sailors from every bar within 5 miles! Those land-lovers will have to help me go on a cruise!"

The boat was a massive beast, and a fine sea-faring vessel. It was several miles long and the walls were hollow and made of glass. Every wall was filled with water and fish, for added camouflage. Each sailor on the S.S Cuba had to wear a fish costume to blend in with the ship. On the top deck there was several hundred cannons that had been salvaged from abandoned pirate ships. There was also a nuclear missile launch-pad hidden away in some sea-weed in the hull. Che Guevara donned his captains cap and strode aboard.

"Good morning sir! How are you today?!" yelled a young-face skipper by the name of Fidel Castro. "What is your name young fellow?" whispered the legendary rebel leader. "Ich bin my name is Fidel Castro!" screamed the young fellow. "If anything happens to me out on the open seas I want you to run Cuba for me, ok?" Che Guevara saluted as the young fellow dived overboard and swam for the port.

The ship was slowly unhooked from it's massive anchor-port and travelled several miles towards Florida. Suddenly a red alert light went on and started blinking furiously. The Cuban Army had realized that Che Guevara had stolen there prize war vessel! Several fishing boats quickly rowed themselves to the hulking hulk. "THIS IS THE CUBAN ARMY! GET OFF OUR SHIP YOU FILTHY COMMIES" called out a brave cuban smoking a cigar. Che Guevara strode to the front of his vessel and commanded the cuban sea police should be killed!

The S.S Cuba gradually swang around while it's rebel army of sailors and pirates prepared themselves. They drew there cutlasses and gnashed there teeth in apprehension of feasting on the blood of a fascist Cuban! The huge boat slowly rolled towards the rest of the Cuban sea police and crushed several of them. All that remained was the president of cuba who sat on a golden throne aboard a speed-boat with his black slaves. One plucky young slave suggested that he get rid of his gold throne but he was shot in the eye by the fascist dictator. "A CAPTAIN MUST GO DOWN WITH HIS THRONE. AND SO MUST HIS SLAVES!" yelled the drunken arsehole. The slaves quickly got out there boomerangs and threw them in the air and they span around and cut off his head. The slaves then tried to join the cuban rebels but a 600-ton boat rolled over them.

Che Guevara lit an american cigar and inhaled deeply. "Ah american cigars! How aromatic!" he squeeled as his tiny testicles flapped valiantly in the wind. The boat started scraping against the coral reef of Florida and several Floridans rang the U.S Army. "Help us!" they yelled. So they did.

JFK drummed his fingers along his bald head in the oval house deep in the underground lair of the White House. Donning his wig, he went on the rocket-propelled lift up the lincoln monument. "There must be something we can do! But the S.S Cuba is to powerful for my marines to fight. If only we knew what colour a trapezium was." he cursed. He then remembered his top secret manuever that only him and the FBI knew about. But could he do it in time?

The Cuban rebels invaded Florida beach. They snapped the surf-boards of the freedom loving Americans. "In Cuba, surf board you!" one spat, firing a machinegun into a crowded bus. Che Guevara suddenly appeard next to him. "This is not how the Communist do it Ernesto. We have to infiltrate there ranks and spread Communism into there society."

Suddenly a jet flew overhead and dropped a bomb onto some Cubans. "What is happening Che?" said one fine cuban sailor until a bomb hit in in the nuts. Che Guevara whipped around as bombs fell onto his comrades. The smell of burning flesh invaded his well-toned nostrils. "Ack, Bacon!" he cried. "This is indeed a bay of pigs!"

JFK looked at the spy-cameras from his presendital car and grinned. "Ah, I have defeated the Communism. At last!" He instructed the driver to pull off the roof of his car and drive to Florida so he could personally take a large shit on Che Guevara.

Meanwhile Lee Herby Oswald strode into the book suppository building. He grinned at a pretty babe as he unloaded several books into her vagina. Suddenly his commie-communicator went off. "Excuse me ma'am." he smiled, tipping his fedora. He jogged upstairs and took off his shirt to reveal a huge hammer and sickle tattoo on his chest. He tapped it and it lit up as he telepathically communicated with a communist in trouble. "Who is this?" he yokelled. "Listen to me very carefully Oswald, we only have one chance to do this..."

The motorcade slowly drove into Texas. JFK enjoyed the wind in his wig as the sun blazed down. "Ah, so fresh. The Cubans have been defeated in toe-to-toe fighting. All I have to do now is kill Russia!". Suddenly a shot rang out and the bullet zinged him in the buttocks. "Who the heck is shooting at me?"

Lee Herby Oswald sneered as he fired again, but he knew it was to late. All he had done was kill JFK's wife and her wet minge sloppily rubbed itself on her husbands face. He could hear FBI men run up the stairs. Looking down his scope, he watched the President give oral sex to his dying wife when another bullet hit him in the back of the head. His face exploded all over the hairy twat. But who was the other shooter? He crazily looked around until he saw it. The beret poking over a grassy statue of Stalin. It was Che Guevara! He stood up and looked at Oswald and winked. "You did good kid." he smiled, walking off into the distance. Oswald nodded back as the entire FBI poured into the book suppository building. "Drop da gun swell guy!" screamed one. Oswald dropped the rifle and turned around. He then pulled open his trenchcoat to reveal a penis sculpted out of plastic explosives. "I regret nothing!" he finally sneered as the explosives killed the entire FBI and everyone in a 5 block radius.

Needs more sex and/or Malcom X. You could also possibly sneak Jim Morrison in there somehow.

Malcolm X lay on the couch with Jim Morrison watching the news. A teary-eyed Jim Morrison turned to his black friend and said "I can't believe it man...The President has been killed!". Malcolm turned away from the TV and twirled a strand of the rockstars hair around his finger. "Don't worry Jimbo, I'm sure he'll be replaced by someone black."

Malcolm saw his friend was upset. Taking off his glasses, he stroked Morrisons face. "What are you doing you crazy spic?" Morrison leapt up. "I was only trying to comfort you. You never consider my feelings." The black nationalist started to weep, his tears rolled down the length of his erect penis he had just pulled out. Morrison was in trouble. Gay trouble!

The rock and roller ran down a corridor as Malcolm chased him, machine-gun in one hand and frantically masturbating with the other. "Do not resist me, Jim." he huskily whispered. Jim Morrison leapt out of a window and fell 3 stories onto a parked car. He looked up to see the silhouette of a big black cock against the afternoon sun.

Malcolm looked down at his soon-to-be gay lover. Dropping the machine-gun he squatted down and ran a finger along his dick. "Hell yeah!" he screamed as he jammed his finger into his urethra. He stood up and jumped forwards, hoping his erect penis would stab Morrison in the eye.

The car suddenly set off with Morrison on top. Malcolm X fell onto his penis, which made his scream quite loudly. He held the ruined organ in his hands and stumbled forward. "Morrison...why?" As the car sped along the road, Morrison rolled over and looked at the driver. "Hey there Jim." said Bob Dylan, lighting a fat joint.

Brilliant. Please continue.

Several months later, Malcolm was changing his diaper when there was a knock at the door. Unslinging his six-shooter he cautiously walked to the door. "Who is it?" Before the words even entered his head the door exploded into a million splinters! Malcolm coughed and looked into the smoke only to see Che Guevara standing there!

Malcolm raised his gun only to find it was actually a poisonous snake! Che Guevara smiled and waved the gun at him. "Suprise comrade, I was once a stage magician in nazi cuba." Malcolm snarled and bit the snakes head off. "Why have you come here, cuban dog?" Che Guevara shrugged as cuban rebels suddenly absailed in and chloroformed THE FUCK out of Malcolm X.

A bucket of cold water was banged against his head. "What the heck?" he said, as Che Guevara drank heavily from the metal bucket. "We are currently on board a helicopter heading for Cuba. Congratulations Malcolm X." Che Guevara suddenly lashed out and smeared chocolate all over Malcolm's face. "I hope you're enjoying this..." the cuban squeeled. "No...no...stop! I'll tell you anything!" screamed the black pansy.

The torture continued until the chopper landed in Cuba. Malcolm almost collapsed as he stumbled off the helicopter, his face dripping with chocolate. "Wash him down then bring him to me. I haven't finished with him yet."

Malcolm X was brought before Che Guevara, his hands cuffed together. The fluffy dressing-gown he was wearing had a label that made his neck itch. "Why did you kidnap and torture me?" said Malcolm, spitting out some chocolate. "A few months ago I accidently let Fidel Castro take over Cuba. I then realized that he is a bastard, so you and me are going to overthrow him."
"But why me you beret-wearing, bearded man?!"
"Because you're the only one I can trust..." whispered Che Guevara as a tear rolled down his face.
"That doesn't even make any sense!" screamed Malcolm.
"Tough shit." said Che Guevara as he pulled a paper-bag over the top of Malcolm X's head. On the bag there was a smiley face drawn in biro.
"NOOOOOO!"

More.

Bravo bravissimo! *clap clap clap*
This is just so... beautiful.

Che Guevara looked at the remains of his rebel army and gave a sloppy, communist salute. "I want you guys to stay here. This is a stealth mission after all!" he screamed. He then leapt on a motorbike and slung Malcolm X over one shoulder as they screamed to the capital of Cuba, Portugal!

They eventually stopped at Che Guevara's ruined palace hideout to pick up some guns. "I'm just going to shoot you as soon as I get a gun, dickhead." snarled Malcolm through millimetres of paper.
"I've already thought about that. So I'm only going to pass you bullets when we get to the fortress of Fidel Castro. And they're going to actually be blanks in case you try to kill me." squeeked the pencil-moustached testicle.
"!"
Malcolm X then started to eat the bag like an angry black hamster and stared Che Guevara right in the mouth.

Malcolm and Che Guevara rode in silence towards Portugal. "I will now put my bike on silent running so no guards can hear us." overexplained Guevara. He then did a backflip off the bike and started pushing the handcuffed giant towards his fiendish assassination plot.

The bike was slowly pushed past several guards, machine-gun nests and up to some sliding glass doors. Che Guevara slowly pushed the door open and rolled his bike onto Fidel Castro's carpet. "I'm going to free you now. Don't try any funny business or you'll probably kill me." pleaded his captor. As soon as Malcolm was uncuffed, Che Guevara was punched in the arm.
"That was for kidnapping me!"
Che Guevara then received another blow to the thigh.
"That was for smearing chocolate on my face!"
A final thud landed directly on Che Guevara's forehead.
"And that was for pissing me off!"
Che Guevara rubbed his forehead then pushed Malcolm X onto a leather chair. They wrestled around on a fur rug when Fidel Castro walked in with a huge ham in one hand! Che Guevara then started pointing at it and laughed.

The Cuban Dictator lit a cigar and stared at a black guy with some chocolate on his face and a cuban guy who couldn't grow a proper beard. "What is happening?"
Che Guevara then whipped out a rifle with a bayonet on then end and leaped 30 feet across the room to stab the dictator. Suddenly he was trapped in a spiders-web he didn't see.
"What is happening? I seem to be stuck in a fiendish web of total buttfuck!" he squawked. A lighter clicked in the shadows as a joint was lit and Bob Dylan stepped out.
"Yo, wassup?!"

Malcolm looked confused until Jim Morrison appeared next to him in a puff of smoke. Then it all made sense. He was part of an elborate sting operation to trap Che Guevara in a web in Fidel Castro's house! He grinned and nodded at the Lizard King.
"Sorry about your dick Malcolm, but it was needed so that you were truly unarmed when you went up against Che Guevara. But relax..." he said, pulling out a jar from a duffel bag. It looked like some strange alien fetus, floating in a bubbly jar. "This is an alien dick from Mars. We want you to have it for service to your country."

Che Guevara was frantically looking around. Bob Dylan walked up to him and a spider crawled over his face. Che Guevara suddenly realized Bob Dyland was covered in spiders! With a grin, Bob Dylan opened his mouth and thousands of spiders poured out and pooled onto the floor. They quickly scuttled over Che Guevaras body and he was wrapped in their web fluid. "Sorry buddy, that's just what happens." shrugged Dylan, putting on his shades and walking towards Morrison and Malcolm. Fidel Castro walked to the webbed form and put a cigar out on its face. It wriggled slightly, as Fidel Castro re-lit his cigar.

Dylan, Morrison and Malcolm walked toward a small boat on the beach. "So what now?"
"You're going to go back to America and pretend nothing ever happened." said Jim, cutting away his long locks. "I'm going to join the army and go fight in Vietnam."
"What about Dylan?"
Dylan turned toward Malcolm.
"Me? Well let's just say you won't be hearing from me for a couple of years."
And even in the dark moonless night off the coast of Cuba, Malcolm thought he could see a halo around the head of Bob Dylan.

THE END

The ending sucked balls.

so did the end...OF THE 60's!

im lovin it

That story made me cry.

I want a sequel.

Write one where all the Che avatars get shot?

What about delightful southern chicken sellers?