Mondo Goes on a Furlough

The most disgusting inmate in the universe goes to Crawford

"Warden Jackson," Karl Rove intoned ominously, "I don't think that you understand, I'm not asking you if giving Mondo a furlough is a good idea, I'm telling you that Mondo is going on a furlough."

"With all due respect Mr. Rove," Warden Jackson replied, "It is you who doesn't understand. Mondo is a serving a long sentence for various sundry crimes against God, Man, and Nature - especially Nature. He has no personal hygiene habits - you can smell him from a block away, no self respect, he eats fly strips for crying out loud, with live flies still on the strip! In addition, he is addicted to pornography, which thanks to court decisions he is permitted to have. The man is a menace to society, and you want me to release him for a weekend? On second thought, you are right, I don't understand. I don't understand why you would want a man like that out on the streets!"

"I need him for political purposes Warden. I understand that he thinks Cindy Sheehan is his Mother" Rove replied.

"Yes," Warden Jackson stated, "Mondo saw her on the evening news and is absolutely convinced that she is his Mother. But we know that this is not true, his Mother is alive and lives about 30 miles from here, she even visits on occasion. But she does bear a striking resemblance to Mrs. Sheehan."

"And it is that resemblance that I am counting on," said Rove. "Now, have your guards go get Mondo, clean him up a bit, give him some street clothes, and release him to my custody. I have all the appropriate paper work right here," concluded Rove as he took a sheaf of papers from his briefcase and handed them across the desk to the warden.

Warden Jackson carefully pored over the paperwork presented by Karl Rove and could find nothing to object to, everything was in order, and she resigned herself to releasing Mondo for the weekend. She picked up the phone and reluctantly gave the orders to have Mondo brought to the front gate in street clothes. Then she contacted the guard on duty in Mondo's cellblock and asked him to retrieve certain items of Mondo's personal property and bring them to her. Her next call went to the prison commissary.

"Mondo will be ready for you in about 10 minutes Mr. Rove," Warden Jackson informed him, "and I have made arrangements to supply you with some items that may protect the public if he gets out of control," she continued. "His cellblock guard is bringing some copies of Nature magazine which has many pictures of small furry animals, and the commissary is bringing over a dozen boxes of Little Debbie snack cakes. You can use these items to entice and lure him into doing what you want. But I must caution you, if you use the Little Debbies, it must be with an entire box, just one snack cake will not suffice."

"Thank you very much for your cooperation Warden," said Karl Rove, "your government appreciates your assistance, and I personally thank you for going above and beyond and giving me the magazines and snack cakes."

Karl Rove left the warden's office and proceeded to the front gate to await Mondo's appearance. He stood chatting with several Secret Service agents while waiting for Mondo, and presently they all detected a foul odor in the air. Just as one of the agents was about to remark on the odor, Mondo came through the sally port into the lobby, flanked by two guards. One guard told Mondo that he was going to go out on a field trip and directed him to the Secret Service agents telling him that they were his guides, while the other gave Karl Rove a large duffel bag containing the magazines and Little Debbie snack cakes. The guards wished them luck, and the main gate opened for them to leave.

The Secret Service agents quickly hustled Mondo out to a waiting van, and Karl Rove followed the van to the nearest airport in a waiting limo. Once at the airport, it was only a matter of minutes before the waiting cargo plane took off and headed towards Texas. In the air, the Secret Service agents tried to keep Mondo calm by offering him food and drinks. Mondo accepted and noisily devoured everything offered to him.

Presently, Mondo announced that he needed to use the rest room, and unbuckled both of the seat belts needed to encircle his immense girth. As Mondo waddled towards the restroom, the large plane shook and swayed in the air as the pilot struggled to keep control of the plane. Mondo somehow managed to wedge himself into the facilities, and to his dismay found that if he closed the door, he couldn't turn around or manage to locate his trouser decouplers, so he left the door open and proceeded to do his business, thereby irretrievably soiling the entire rest room from floor to ceiling. Mondo exited the lavatory and waddled back to his seat, leaving the door open. His normal foul odor, accompanied by the stench of his misadventures in the rest room was more than the Secret Service agents could bear, and one of them bravely went to close the rest room door. When he saw the condition of the facilities, projectile vomit spewed from his mouth into the lavatory. When he finished, he managed to close the door, hoping that the smell wouldn't be too bad for the rest of the trip.

Luckily, just at that moment, the pilot's voice came over the intercom instructing everyone to fasten their seatbelts for landing. The landing was largely unexceptional, if not a bit abrupt, but the plane containing Mondo was on the ground in Texas.

"Mondo, we have a surprise for you," one of the Secret Service agents told him, "We're going to a special picnic, and your Mother is going to be there."

This excited Mondo, because he hadn't seen his Mother in several months, and he obediently followed all instructions given to him on the van trip to the picnic site.

Meanwhile, at Cindy Sheehan's campsite just down the road from President Bush's ranch, a small caravan of catering trucks, secretly arranged for by Karl Rove, arrived and her group was told that local restaurants donated food and drink to her cause, and that they were going to have a nice barbecue picnic. Her media advisors thought that this was great publicity, and invited all the media representatives covering her story to the picnic.

The foodservice workers quickly set up tables and chairs for food and eating in the field, and busily filled them with platters of barbecue ribs, baked beans, cole slaw, potato salad, and steamed broccoli. When they were finished, Cindy Sheehan's media advisors made sure that cameras were rolling as Cindy made a short thank you speech to the local restaurants. Just as she finished, the van containing Mondo rolled up, and the Secret Service agents pointed him to her table.

"Mommy!" Mondo shrieked as he ran towards Cindy Sheehan. Cindy froze in terror as Mondo approached, his foul stench preceding him by a wide margin. Mondo reached her and threw his arms around her, as video cameras whirred. "Let's eat," Mondo shouted, as he greedily tried to shove food into his face without benefit of utensils. The Secret Service agent following Mondo convinced him to sit down and use a plate, and whispered to Cindy that she should perhaps humor him and she wouldn't get hurt.

Since she was in shock, Cindy complied and sat next to Mondo as he stuffed his face with vast quantities of gas producing food. Presently, Mondo slowed down, and Cindy began to regain her composure. When Mondo let out the first of what was to be several magnificent farts, Cindy snapped out of it and began to edge away from Mondo. When Mondo realized that she was leaving, he leapt up, and screamed "No Mommy - don't leave me again!"

As Mondo lunged towards her trying to wrap his arms around her, Cindy, fully recovered from her shock, was repulsed and sickened by Mondo and his stench. She felt her stomach heave and let loose a stream of vomit that splashed Mondo and several reporters who were busily covering the spectacle. When Mondo reached her, she angrily struck out at him screeching at him to get away. At this moment, the Secret Service agent who had been restraining Cindy's media advisor let her go and she joined in the fracas striking at Mondo and screaming obscenities at him trying to pry Cindy loose from his grasp.

Shortly, one of the Secret Service agents caught Mondo's eye with a box of Little Debbies and one of his Nature magazines. Mondo released Cindy and moved towards the agent, who was backing up to the waiting van. As Mondo walked away, both Cindy Sheehan and her media advisor hurled epithets at Mondo, who was totally oblivious to them.

As Mondo was lured into the van, another Secret Service agent gave an interview to one of the reporters explaining that Mondo was a "special needs" person, who mistook Cindy for his Mother, and said that her actions towards disadvantaged persons was nothing short of reprehensible.

The media then descended upon Cindy and her media advisor demanding to know why she had treated Mondo so shabbily. The circus that then ensued was captured on film for posterity by all the major network and cable news outlets.

At 6:00 p.m., while Mondo was still in the air heading back to prison, the lead story on every newscast began with film of Cindy Sheehan and her media advisor abusing Mondo both verbally and physically. Their explanations were shallow and insincere to all who viewed them, and Cindy Sheehan was no longer the media darling she had been for an entire month. Her cause and her angry words towards the President were ridiculed and dismissed by the pundits, and her popular opinion ratings slid into the gutter.

Back at President Bush's ranch Karl Rove, George Bush, and the rest of his advisors watched the unfolding events with barely restrained glee.

Mondo Goes to the Gym

The most disgusting inmate in the Universe gets some Rec

Mondo awoke drenched in a cold sweat, which was unusual; he usually awoke to a hot, steamy sweat. “This is different,” he finally realized, “Maybe I should try something new today instead of slothing around like an obese odious oaf like I usually do.” So after a long period of what passed for thought in his defective mind, Mondo decided to go to the gym and see what interested him there. This in itself was surprising since Mondo’s interests lie almost exclusively in the realm of food, pornography, and cute small furry animals.

Before going to the gym, Mondo decided that a shower might be a good idea, since his clothes needed washing anyway. To the great dismay of his cellmate, and virtually every other inmate on the block, Mondo noisily rooted around for some soap. When he finished, he searched for some in his locker. Since Mondo had never once even looked at the toiletries side of the commissary sheet, it goes without saying that his search was fruitless, as well as soapless. “Oh well,” mumbled Mondo, “Soap is really not necessary for someone of my stature.” He grabbed his ghastly stained towel and trundled off to the shower room. The moment Mondo stepped in to the shower room, every inmate present sprinted out, regardless of whether they were finished showering or not. “It’s nice to be respected,” Mondo arrogantly thought, “A man of my repute commands homage wherever he goes.” Finding himself alone in the shower, Mondo proceeded to soil the entire shower room in a manner that defies description. Once Mondo had rinsed his clothes and spread the stains evenly over their entire surface, he removed them and wrung them out, further soiling the despoiled shower room tiles.

Fresh from his spur of the moment shower, Mondo eagerly waited for the hourly inmate movement to be called. When the movement was announced, Mondo rushed the door, looking all the time like some ponderous pre-historic beast, and slammed into the securely locked door face first. Mondo’s tremendous impact strained the security hinges on the door, but with sounds of groaning metal the door miraculously held. Mondo backed away with a whimper, leaving a large slimy stain on the door, not to mention a 3-inch dent. The guard who approached the door to open it was laughing hysterically, until he saw the 3-inch deep dent in the heavy gauge security steel. Fully sobered by this sight, he opened the door and breathed a sigh of relief when Mondo lumbered out the door and headed toward the gym.

The two guards working the Yard Gate were startled to feel the earth move under their feet. The tremors increased in frequency and power as Mondo approached. He flashed his ID card and turned left, heading for the gym. Mondo closed the gap between himself and the revolving door as the ground thundered under his feet. Upon reaching the revolving door, Mondo realized that he was too large to fit through the door. However, Mondo was nothing if not determined. Remembering his encounter with the cellblock door, he took three large steps back, and plodded towards the revolving door. Behind him, terrified voices sang a chorus of doom; they were helpless to stop him, and it looked like the gym was going to meet an ignominious end. The moment of impact was a sight to behold, as the massive bulk of Mondo met the securely anchored door. Miraculously, the door panel he impacted against first gave way and folded back flat against the adjacent panel, giving Mondo fully half the revolving door to fit through. Again, metal screeched and groaned, but this time Mondo got through.

The tumultuous noise along with Mondo’s peculiar offensive odor caused everyone in the gym to stop dead in their tracks and stare at the entrance. Seeing this, Mondo’s self-esteem was inflated all out of proportion. “Gee, I had no idea that I was so highly regarded by staff and inmates alike,” he though, “It looks like I’m not such a despised character after all.” Mondo waddled towards largest knot of people he saw, anxious to make new friends, or to be more accurate, any friend. The group moved as one, in a direction that can best be described as opposite to Mondo’s, if one is charitable enough to discount those members of the group who tried to leap through the walls of the gym to escape him. “I enjoy the respect and homage, but it is sometimes tedious when I cannot get close enough to hold a conversation with another person,” Mondo thundered aloud. Again, all movement in the gym halted, and staff and inmate alike stood trembling.

Mondo stood sweating after his uncharacteristic spree of physical activity and exceptionally intelligible verbal outburst. Reeling from the shock of too many unaccustomed occurrences, it appeared that Mondo was going to fall, irretrievably soiling, and disfiguring the floor. A guard gently suggested to Mondo that perhaps he should go over to the large circular wash basin and splash some water on his face. “My, how gently and reverently he speaks to me,” thought Mondo, “I’ll humor him and go over and splash some water on my face. That should put his mind at ease.” Aloud, Mondo managed to utter his typical unintelligible grunt and waddled over to the basin. Mondo stepped on the bar and the water cascaded out of the spouts in a circular fountain-like manner. This mesmerized Mondo’s simple mind, and he stood for many moments, almost transfixed by the sparkling display. Finally realizing why he was there, Mondo leaned forward cupping his hands and reached toward the stream of water.

A small movement caught Mondo’s eye just before the water reached his hands, and his beady eyes sought out and locked on to a fly, which was buzzing around his body. Carefully timing his movement, his right hand shot out and attempted to snatch the fly from mid-air. Unfortunately, Mondo’s coordination was on a par with his intelligence, personality, and appearance; that is, decidedly substandard. Mondo’s ill-fated attempt to snatch the fly resulted in the fly being batted through the air and bounding off the side of the basin and into the water sliding down the drain. Seeing this, Mondo lunged for the fly, while his mind shrieked “SNACK!!”

Mondo’s lunge unbalanced him, and he tumbled forward into the basin. Mondo was much too large to actually fit inside the basin, but the combination of his immense weight and his greasy, oily body managed to wedge him firmly into the wash basin. Happily for Mondo though, he caught the fly and greedily devoured it. Unhappily for Mondo, he could not get out of the basin. Seeing the predicament Mondo was in, a quick thinking guard called for help. Mondo began to panic, and started thrashing wildly about. Each violent convulsion brought sounds of groaning metal and the unmistakable sounds of plumbing being ripped from concrete. Eventually, Mondo tired and his wild thrashings subsided. Presently, 17 guards arrived to remove Mondo from the basin, each one dressed in a full-body decontamination suit.

The guards warily approached the basin. Slowly they gathered in a silent semi-circle around the supine Mondo, who was still firmly ensconced in the wash basin. Almost in unison, the guards heaved and heaved and heaved. When they finished, they grabbed Mondo and managed to pull him out of the wash basin. Mondo sat dazedly on the floor, and tried to recover his composure. Finally, Mondo raised his right hand to his left nostril, causing all persons in his vicinity to flee in terror. Everything was back to normal.

Later, back in his cell, a warm familiar green haze surrounding Mondo and his environs, Mondo reflected back upon the most exciting day during his entire incarceration. A warm smile slowly spread across his piggish face as he relaxed and drifted off to sleep, bubbling away merrily.

A Half Day In The Life

Introducing Mondo Dweeb

The most disgusting inmate in the Universe

Mondo felt ungainly as he struggled to get his body mass out of his sleeping unit. The sheets were soaked through from the ever-present sweat that accompanied Mondo wherever he happened to go. Mondo raised his right arm to his left nostril to purge his nasal cavern of the low viscosity snot which had accumulated there. As he blew through his nose, he realized that once again he had made a mistake. "Left Arm, Left Nostril!" he thought as he struggled to wipe the quivering mass of green mucous from his right wrist onto his cellmate's sheets.

Mondo eagerly waited the call for breakfast, and when chow was called he traversed his way to the mess hall where he cautiously made his way to his usual with his tray of food. The other prisoners immediately left the table as Mondo approached. Mondo often wondered why they always left, then smugly admitted to himself that it must be out of respect. While eating, Mondo felt empty since everyone around him was in reality a total stranger and viewed Mondo as an outcast among societal outcasts. Mondo eyed the fly strip strategically positioned above his dining table. "Approximately 15% of the flies are alive on that strip," thought Mondo as he plucked one from its entrapment and greedily devoured it, to the horror of the guards.

Mondo completed his fuel intake procedures and once again made the long, dangerous trip back through the penal jungle to his cellblock. It was traditional during this walk for Mondo to flatulate with increasing frequency as he approached people. He had developed an amazing ability to modulate both the amplitude and frequency of his emissions so as to maximize the effects on the human population. As Mondo wheezed and bubbled his way toward his cell, he decided to alter his course of action and go to the bathroom in order to alleviate the all-consuming urge he had to gas his cellmate into submission. Mondo located his trouser decouplers and sat down recklessly on the sturdy bowl. Suddenly, all the other inmates fled the bathroom, and once again Mondo assumed that it was out of respect for his privacy. When he had finished his distasteful task, Mondo rumbled back to his cell to listen to some banal music and read material of questionable moral character.

The call for lunch was the next diversion worthy of mention in Mondo’s life. Upon hearing the call, he quickly wrung the sweat out of his clothes, and attempted to wipe away the ever-present line of drool running down his triple chin from the corner of his mouth. Once again the events of the morning were repeated as Mondo placed the entire fly strip between two slices of bread and offered it to a guard. Mondo issued several racially motivated comments to the patrons of adjacent tables as he concentrated on bothering the maximum number of inmates with a minimum of effort. In between heaping abuse upon these individuals incapable of offering any sort of respectable verbal defense, Mondo ate lunch.

After he finished, he clamored for the exit with dozens of other inmates. He raised his left hand to his right nostril and exhaled heavily through his nose. “Damn, Right Hand, Right Nostril!” thought Mondo as he cleverly used the crowding of the exit line to wipe away the stretchy mucous on the lunch patron directly ahead of him in the line. Mondo was amazed at the surface tension and elasticity of his snot as the sliggers stretched almost a foot from the unwitting victim’s back to Mondo’s left sleeve.

“So much for the first half of the day,” thought Mondo as he trundled back to his cellblock to play more insipid music and read another morally bankrupt publication.