My Naughty Chekist

Miss jaamtoo4
Thurston County Sheriff's Office
Olympia, WA

Dear Miss jaamtoo4,

I know it's been a while since we last chatted. I didn't know how to get a hold of you after I was banned from the Jackboots & Stiletto Heels Chatroom over the "virtual cantaloupe" incident. Who knew it was a French fruit?

But even after all this time, I haven't forgotten the good times we had playing cyber games like The Stormtrooper and The Hippie Girl and The Naughty Chekist. Thinking back on it, I'd have to say, it was the happiest 173 hours, 43 minutes, and 13 seconds of my life. I hope you feel the same

So you're probably wondering how I found you. Well the other day, I was on one of my reconnaissance missions where I scout out possible gathering places for America's internal enemies. I'd chosen to surveil the San Francisco Street Bakery in Olympia on the basis of its name (very French, very Pelosi), and boy did I hit pay dirt. It was an enemy recruitment station, enticing good, normal, god-fearing Americans with the smell of freshly baked bread and then subverting them with foreign temptations like cream cheese danishes, strawberry croissants, ruggala, sandwiches made with vegetables and goat cheese, lattes, and, worst of all, baba ganoush and hummus.

There I was in the heart of enemy territory, and suddenly, I felt very conspicuous in my camouflage (why don't they make camo with doughnut or maple bar patterns) and buzz-mullet haircut. Seeing a stack of newspapers, I quickly picked one up, hoping to fool everyone into thinking I was just like them, a consumer of the printed news.

I almost dropped it in disgust when I saw it was a leftist rag called Works in Progress, but then I saw your name. It was part of an email address, jaamtoo4@gmail.com. It was in an article about the mistrial in the Oly 22 case. Apparently, the protesters' trial was ended when it was learned that an undercover secret agent for the Thurston County Sheriff's Department, jaamtoo4@gmail.com, had penetrated an email list the defendants used to discuss legal strategies with their lawyers.

"That must be my beloved jaamtoo4," I thought, "the name is just too unique for it to be a coincidence." No wonder your knowledge of the Terrible Strap-On Nightstick of Submission seemed so authentic. You're a domestic secret agent in real life, a secret agent who spies on our internal enemies and their lawyers in the defense of our constitution.

And I learned that your name is Detective Mike Hirte, and that you look like a man--you're at least a three on the manly scale of absolute gender. And for a moment, I felt a little weird about being so turned on by you, but then I decided it must be something else about you that's awakened my little soldier from his long, long slumber. Maybe it's the handcuffs or perhaps the way your magnificent, luscious, hairy, round breasts strain against the fabric of your dress shirt. I don't know.

But that's not important, Miss Mike. I'm just glad I found you, and now that I know you're a real secret agent, I'll let you be the chekist the next time we play cyber games.

Heterosexually yours,

Gen. JC Christian, patriot