A Vic Musket Mini Mystery: The Salacious Senator

Excuses are like assholes. Everybody's got one. But when it comes to powerful men lying about sex, their excuses are giant, bloody prolapses that they drag around like bulbous vestigial tails. And when such powerful men want their name cleared they pay men like Vic Musket. A private detective with ethics as questionable as his choice of street whores.

Senator Jim Gallant of the garden state of New Jersey was facing serious allegations of illicit sex with some high-end escort, the kind of scandal that has been overcome by countless politicians and would seem to pose no threat beyond the cost of a skillful PR representative and an embarrassing news interview or two. But there had to be more to it, considering the serious look on the face of the staffer sitting across the table from him.

"Before we begin, detective Musket, I want your assurance that anything we discuss with you will not leave this room. We are willing to pay you quite handsomely for your discretion..." the well-dressed man looked shocked when Vic interrupted him.

"I won't tell about your dirty secrets if you don't tell about the mess I am about to make in that executive bathroom, mister." Vic Musket stood up and began marching toward the slightly ajar door at the back of the conference room.

"But detective, I will have to show you to another restroom, that toilet is out of order." the man said with a slightly panicked look on his face.

"No problem. I can use the sink." was the unwelcome response, Vic not even slowing his stride.

The man darted in front of him before he could touch the doorknob. "Excuse me, sir, but I will have to insist! I cannot allow you to defecate in the Senator's bathroom sink!"

"Do I look like the kind of animal that would shit in a sink?" Vic asked, leaning in to make a point. "It's 10:30 in the morning, and I haven't thrown up all the whiskey from last night. I haven't eaten in two days, so I assure you there won't be any plumbing problems. Now step aside!"

The sweet stench of booze was all the evidence the man needed to apologize and step aside. And after a few minutes of loud retching with the door wide open, Vic returned to the table. "Like I was saying, we can pay you handsomely for any information that might clear the Senator's good name in this matter. $20,000 if the evidence is good enough to make the problem go away."

The figure had Vic's full attention. "Give me the details" he said, "and get the money ready. I don't take checks."

The well-dressed man ran through a powerpoint presentation that explained everything. The Senator was accused of patronizing an escort service, and the glorified prostitute didn't have the good sense to keep with the age-old tradition of amnesia concerning her clientele. She was threatening to come forward with a story of receiving three full hours of cunnilingus from Gallant's famous silver tongue just three days ago, and wanted a sizable portion of the Senator's upcoming campaign fund or else she was talking. The voters wouldn't find this so unpalatable, pun intended, except for one fact. The escort was a hermaphrodite. The thought of a political candidate going down on a whore was one thing, but they wouldn't be able to shake the image of him wearing a flaccid penis on his face like groucho glasses in time to vote for him. Not even in Jersey.

"Do you have a picture of the whore?" The man called for a secretary to bring in a laptop, and upon delivery brought up an old mugshot of the culprit. A grin widened across Vic's face.  "Can I meet with the Senator? Is he here?" Vic asked.

The man was perplexed and it showed on his face. "Detective, the Senator is a very busy man, and I am not..." but he was cut off for the second time by a voice from the doorway.

"I am here, Musket. Whatever I can do to clear my name, just ask." The tall, gray haired Senator seemed sincere. And cleanly shaven.

"Well I have only one question for you. Do you shave with a blade or an electric razor?" Vic asked.

The two men in suits shared a confused glance. "A blade, every morning. It's the only way to maintain a clean appearance now, with the high definition cameras, and such." Said the Senator.

Vic stood up. "Then I know you are innocent. Pay me and I will be on my way."

"Not so fast, detective. We need irrefutable proof to keep this woman from speaking up. You aren't getting a dime until our lawyers are satisfied there is no further political threat here." The well dressed man remained unconvinced.

"It's quite simple," Vic began "the good Senator is clean shaven, not a blemish on his face, the picture of trustworthy modern American politics. He shaves with a razor daily, a clean shave that leaves his facial pores open and exposed, yet he bears no sores on his lips. Get that 'woman' tested, sir. 'She' has a bad case of herpes, and any man freshly shaven with a blade would look like we went down on a wasp's nest after pleasuring her."

"But I don't understand," the Senator muttered, "how can you tell she has herpes from the picture on the laptop?"

"Simple." Vic replied, taking a flask out of his inside pocket. "Because I gave them to her six weeks ago." By the time the lawyers had contacted the woman and explained the new developments, she recanted her story and Vic's briefcase full of cash was prepared. Plenty of money afford any number of exotic escorts, even one born with the kind of tackle that gave men like him plenty of options.



The End.

Hail To The King, Baby!

Holy shit it finally happened!  I am sure you will all remember where you were when you heard about the glorious coming of a baby with a higher birth than anyone in your lineage will ever achieve!  I know what I was doing, reading an essay on the state of islam by the late Christopher Hitchens and breathing shallowly in eager anticipation of the news on the next royal heir.  And we here at Popular Irony have the exclusive first pic of the baby prince!

As any other americans can probably relate, I had a hard time understanding how a newborn baby could hold the attention of the international media for so long.  It seemed trivial, like maybe the world had serious doubts about the working order of the prince’s royal member.  But then I realized why this is such a big deal.  I mean, it’s not everyday that every living human on earth takes a step backwards in overall rank to someone who is only hours old.  Just think of all the starving peasants he will step over on his way to a caviar and fois gras breakfast over the course of his lifetime!  It really gives you perspective.

It is easy to see why the british people are so excited to add another person to the long list of royals that will forever gorge themselves on the teats of the collective taxpayer.  And in return for the lifetime of support in their excessive lifestyle, the new addition to the royal family will spend the rest of his days contemplating difficult decisions, like whether or not to read the newspaper for information on political policy making, or if he will attend public events in lavish clothes that are covered by enormous unearned medals and ribbons.

The whole spectacle really puts our political system to shame.  In the states you must spend your early years educating yourself and participating in public or private affairs to make a name for yourself, then appeal to the community you live in for support in your election to public office, followed by years of diligent service to allow you to climb the ranks to the eventual pinnacle of your chosen field of government.  Only then are you allowed to rape the taxpayer.  Our whole system fails to take advantage of the easy selection process inherent in a birthright system.  Here you have to earn your way unless your surname is Kennedy.  Or Clinton.  Or Bush.  Or your family has generational wealth.  Ok, maybe I should shut up now.  YAY MONARCHY!!

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Sweat Laddie

Sweat Laddie here, ready to spread cheer!  Line up folks and grab yer rags, it's almost sweatin' time!  Everyone from Tuscucola all the way down to North Wallahasee knows that my sweats is the cure to almost all yer ills. 

All ya' need is a good soppin' rag, you know the type, twelve dollars in quarters and a bit o' patience.  I promise ya' won't be disappointed.   It's cures all yer household ailments; Gamey Toe, Crispy Lobe, Drippy Tip, Sluice Bottom, Soppin' Chums, Fever Anus, Rape Dreams and it even fixes Farmer's Handshake.

Once yer rag has reached saturation, all ya need do is place it in yer mouth and suckle.  You know how to suckle, don't ya?  Put yer gums together and *schluck*.  My body drainin's fillin' yer mouth will fill you with the healin' power of Jesus!  Now you know it's true.  Jesus don't lie.

Now start soppin' me.  I'ma more sweaty n' usual.

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My Glorious Nature Journey

As some avid readers/listeners of the podcast may have already devised, Terlet and myself reside in Colorado. There are two things our state has that bring in the hippies, one is pot, and the other is an amazing mountain landscape. Well, I decided to make my way back to the stomping grounds of my youth by traveling up to the Rocky Mountain National Park, and I decided that despite it's natural beauty and fresh alpine air, I fucking hate nature. Allow me to explain.

 

Upon entering the park I took this photo of the wonderful valley surrounded by massive and ancient mountains. What is wrong with that, you ask? Look closer. Some retarded tourist snuck into frame and I didn't notice. If only my camera was a 30.06 scope...

 

 

And after climbing the steep and winding roads of Trail Ridge, you come upon the delicate tundra environment. Here life clings to the rocks and not even trees can withstand the thin air and high winds. It was there that I took this photo, and then promptly got a vicious outbreak of hayfever. Having trouble breathing up there? Now try it with a running nose and constant sneezing.

 

 

At the summit of Trail Ridge Road is a hiking trail that promises enchanting vistas and natural beauty that will never be forgotten. What they don't tell you is that the half mile or so trail looks so relaxing, until your fat ass realizes that you are at 12,000 feet above sea level and all the huffing and puffing that would get you up a few hundred stairs in the city only gives you a headache, not any life-giving oxygen. Oh yes, and the views? Mostly just rocks and sky.

 

 

But surely it would all be worth it for this amazing shot of a bull elk in its natural habitat, right? Not so much. These dirty beasts will forever be associated with endless summers spent fixing barbed wire fences in my youth. And here in the park they don't even let you kill and eat them. What was the entry fee for, again?

 

 

But I must admit, the peaceful solitude of this amazing flower, heavy with a hungry bee, lounging at the banks of a babbling mountain stream had me at the most relaxed state I had been in in literally years. And it was at the exact moment that I snapped this shot that I realized the thin atmosphere paired with my lilly-white, shut-in complexion had left me with severe sunburn on my face, neck, and arms. I am still suffering.

 

So there you have it. A few reasons why I can justify hiding in the basement of my home and avoiding the natural playground at my doorstep. Toodles!

 

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Master Bastard #7 - Cheesenips and War Wounds

The boys are joined by a special guest, a female!  They discuss old war wounds and drink Spirit Hound Moonshine.  The presence of a lady does not deter the filth.  Continued classiness....

Check out this episode!

Innovative Native

In appreciation for this wonderful country that was obtained legitimately and under no false pretenses, I made these comics out of amazing photos of native americans.  It took me only about twenty minutes, which I am sure just blew your mind.  Enjoy.

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Discount Amateur Surgery - Episode 21

It's Nurse Terlet's turn on the zero gravity heart transplant.  Doctor Hamtackle is again, not helpful, but this time he is not helpful... IN SPACE!!  It's Surgeon Simulator 2013, done right...... Drunk.

Music by Kevin MacLeod  http://incompetech.com/music/royalty-free/



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Limp-Dicked Limericks

I am craving for something quite filthy

A device that the devil might build me

A dong at one end

A long shaft with a bend

That when fondled spits out something milky

 

 

You should never make love to a puppet

No matter how well the maker does stuff it

Its mouth might look sweet

But every one lacks their feet

And the end with hand's where you'd fuck it

 

 

A priest is a leader of people

A guide bringing masses from evil

But some go astray

And claim they're not gay

But rape scores of young boys in the steeple

 

 

An abortion is tragic two ways

Once for the toll a mom pays

But also the waste

They're not converted to paste

And served to the starving on trays

 

 

I've got a small broken phallus

A member that's been treated with malice

It's been beaten and burned

But one thing I've learned

Is I can strike a match on the callus

 

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Discount Amateur Surgery - Episode 20

Doctor Hamtackle and Nurse Terlet take a surgery filled jaunt into SPACE!  That's right, it's a heart transplant with no gravity.  Now, where did that heart float off to?  It's Surgeon Simulator 2013, done right...... Drunk.

Music by Kevin MacLeod  http://incompetech.com/music/royalty-free/



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Master Bastard Podcast - A Vic Musket Mini-Mystery - The Stool Pigeon

This week, Master Bastard presents a special episode.  It's a Vic Musket Mini-Mystery!  Join our drunken detective on his haphazard hobo-noir adventures, accompanied by his constant companions; violence, filth and alcohol dependency.

Written by Hamtackle, performed by Terlet.

Check out this episode!

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