Tales of the Incredible Hoke Robertson
Because history will in all likelihood remember me as one of the great men of all time, I try to record many of my adventures and accomplishments so future school children can get some feeling of the boundlessness of my magnificence.
I was walking through my neighborhood the other day with my wife, what’s-her-name. We regularly go for these kinds of walks in lieu of a normal social life. Unfortunately for me, my incredible superiority over all other people is off-putting to most and so I must limit my interactions with the cowardly, inferior masses, and thus my only real social life is these walks. Are these walks? Whatever.
As we were strolling down the sidewalk, I caught my reflection in a window; the short, stout, almost portly physique so common with great athletes; movement like a panther; and a moustache that puts Stalin’s to shame. My stride is long and powerful and I try to maintain a smirking look of superiority so necessary to convey to people my incredibleness.
I recall I was reflecting on my past girlfriends; all tall, with very long blonde hair and large breaststs. I am not particularly drawn to women with big breaststs, but I think they are drawn to me. Ah, the years I spent with all those women were the stuff of legend and the envy of every man, especially those who pretended to be my friends. Over the years all those jealous guys have repeatedly asked me questions about those numerous large breaststs, which may explain why I work the word “breaststs” into every other sentence.
I also remember that day thinking about my many world travels and accomplishments in the military. I would have been the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, but for the jealousy of my peers. My incredible grasp of tactics and strategy was so far beyond everyone else’s, the Army leadership feared me to such a degree that they plotted against me in order they not look so bad. From the outside, it may have seemed I was only a mid-level bureaucrat, being shuffled from one shithole army base to the next, but in fact I was the key factor in maintaining American military superiority for the last four decades. I’m the one who actually coined the term “Star Wars” for Reagan’s SDI program one night after I had just gone to the movies; heck I even designed the latest fighter aircraft for the Air Force.
Anyway, while in the Army I nearly served in combat in Panama, I don’t recall the year but it was around the time my siblings cheated me out of all my inheritance. This is a common thread throughout my life; other, inferior people being so jealous of me that they actively work against me. I of course, rise above that sort of thing and only very rarely make up complicated and nonsensical lies about them in order to make sure I always feel good about myself. Although I only saw 7 hours thirteen minutes of non-action in Panama (four miles removed from the actual place where shooting was occurring), the conversion factor I worked out translates that 7 hours into many years of grueling combat. The conversion factor is necessary and appropriate because I estimate that the intense focus I was able to muster over that 7 hours far exceeded what normal humans could do. By any measure, my 7 hours of intensity was at least the same as serving on the Russian Front in WWII for 3, maybe even 4 years.
While in Ma (the name we Vets give to the Panama conflict) I noticed that most women there had large breaststs and that as per the rule, they were all attracted to me. Because I was married at the time to what’s-her-name, I barely noticed all of those humongous breaststs. Inconveniently for me, I am actually much taller than I appear and irresistible to women.
After some other, cowardly unit had done some fighting in Ma and secured the headquarters of the tyrant Noreiga, my special operations unit of military police took over command of the building and made sure that no new indigenous partisans gathered together again to plot the overthrow of freedom loving peoples throughout the world; and we made sure there were no illegal left turns or wrongful parking in handicap zones. It was quite hair-raising as my men and I entered the empty building with our parking ticket booklets and tire-marking chalk sticks; all the while looking for traffic violators. While inside, I took the liberty of confiscating some of the papers and trinkets which had been inappropriately accumulated by the tyrant Noreiga. Although some petty, jealous people would call this stealing, the fact that I did it means it was not illegal. I believe my legal right to take this stuff is clearly called out in the Treaty of Utrecht of 1713. For all you ignorant dopes, the Treat of Utrecht was actually a series of treaties but you are too stupid to know that. I of course would never do anything wrong or dishonorable. I did not take any of the photographs of the tyrant Noreiga or his family, but did note that his wife and daughters too had very large breaststs.
But I digress. As what’s-her-name and I continued our walk, we passed by one of the neighbor ladies. She made a deliberate stumble which made her large breaststs jiggle; obviously to make sure I noticed those large swaying breaststs, which I of course did not notice. Although I disapproved of her actions, I thought I discerned she had some emotional problems and therefore decided to approach her at a later date and offer my services. As everyone knows, I was trained in the military to counsel women on emotional and sexual issues even though I had virtually zero contact with the female of the species for the first 30 years of my life. Although the military has psychiatrists and psychologists, the Brass knew that my vast and exceptional qualities made me the perfect counselor for women. Therefore, even though it appeared that my job at the Pentagon was to assist a general (whom I was much smarter than; or is it “who?” Whatever) in processing reports from storage facilities, I was also the designated go-to-guy for counseling women, regardless of their breaststs size.
Because of this duty and my extraordinary abilities, on my own initiative I learned hypnosis from one of those pamphlets you can order in the back of large breaststs magazines. In my case, I sent for the three and a half page pamphlet from the June 2004 issue of Just Jugs. I regularly scan this particular magazine, not because of the pictures of huge female breaststs, but because of its excellent articles on military history. After reading this hypnosis pamphlet twice and looking up all of the big words, I became even more qualified to counsel women. I have often found that to discover why a woman is having emotional problems it is helpful to ask them about other, non-related things like orgasms and the sensitivity of their breaststs. Anyway, I decided I would approach her at a later time when it would not bother my wife, what’s-her-name.
It is interesting to note that over the years I have counseled many women, not all of whom had large breaststs. One of them even agreed to me hypnotizing her, but she was apparently one of those individuals who cannot be hypnotized. Each time I thought she was going under she murmured something like “I’m uncomfortable with you asking questions about my breaststs” or “please don’t record this.” Obviously she was unfamiliar with the science of hypnosis and the techniques associated therewith.
I would here like to clear up a false rumor propagated by a family member (my asshole brother who thinks he is smarter, taller and better than I am). I never illegally practiced psychology, never. NEVER! My efforts at getting women to come to my house, lie on the couch and field questions about their orgasms and breaststs all the while I was secretly recording them is clearly just an everyday activity that most men do and is not illegal. Again, because I (as in ME) was helping these poor women, it could not have been wrong.
Anyway; where was I? As what’s-her-name and I were walking that day we approached a house that typically had about 50 dogs in the back yard. The barking dogs reminded me of my time in Afghanistan where I was directly responsible for defeating the Taliban. Although I went there as a civilian contractor charged with distributing laundry detergent, that was only a cover. My real mission was to infiltrate the remaining Taliban that the cowardly Marine Corps had failed to eradicate and kill as many as possible (Taliban not Marines, though all Marines should be killed too because people think they are better than army men like me). I was chosen for this mission because while in Ma, I personally killed 11 men in an alley using only my wits, bare hands and an unused condom (XSmall) I was holding for a friend. While in Afghanistan, I noticed the women all had large pendulous breaststs. This of course did not deter me from my mission, though I did notice that the Afghani women had breaststs slightly larger than those in Serbia where I also singlehandedly ended centuries of senseless conflict.
Anyway, given my vast, incredible experience dealing death to the enemies of the free world, I unconsciously prepared a plan in case the pack of dogs got loose. When I say dogs, they were actually dog/wolf hybrids. Each was about four feet at the shoulder and weighed about 200 pounds. At the very moment I was noticing that the curve of the passing Honda Civic Hatchback resembled a large breastst, somehow the dog/wolves escaped their enclosure and rushed out. A neighbor reported hearing a high pitched yell that he described as sounding like a little girl screaming. However, the sound was me exhaling to build up my inner Chi power as I had learned in Korea. Though Korean women do have large breaststs, they are not as large as those of the women I saw in South Carolina where I did my secret-Ninja training.
As the dog/wolves attacked I steeled myself for combat. As you already know, I have vast experience in real, actual combat which makes me unique and the subject of awe for most all people. Although I like to appear humble, I am in fact better than everyone else, which is difficult for them to acknowledge.
The first 15 dogs I killed with simple Hapkido kicks (that I learned in Korea from a man whose wife had large breatsts). While dispensing with them I used the Tibetan mind control powers I learned from the back of a 1973 Mercenary magazine to hold the other dog/wolves at bay. Although the magazine’s ads regularly had pictures of women with large breaststs, that was irrelevant. After killing the 15 dogs, another thirty of them leapt on me, all at the same time. Holding what’s-her-name above my head to protect her, I systematically killed the remaining dogs with rapid hand movements reminiscent of the superhero The FLASH unbuttoning a large bra strap.
In the middle of this melee, one of the dog/wolves was able to bite me in the groin region. The doctor later commented that the huge size of my penisis was all that saved me from being eviscerated and had likely sprained the dog/wolf’s jaw when it attempted to clamp onto my abnormally huge member. Anyway, I ignored the pain and finished killing the dogs. The commotion had alerted many neighbors, but all of the men, being abject cowards and intimidated by my manliness held back and did not help me. All the while their large breaststsed wives watched in excited admiration.
That’s about it. What’s-her-name made me go to the hospital to get checked out and that is where the doctor and the nurse with the large breaststs commented on my abnormally huge member. Of course I did not really need any medical attention; I once had to sew my left arm back on after a Taliban had cut it mostly off with a scimitar. If not for the friendly, helpful Afghani village lady with the large breaststs I might not have made out of there alive. In order to protect her for her actions, we agreed she would pretend I had made inappropriate advances to her which explains why I am not allowed to visit that country any more.
That night what’s-her-name went a bit overboard in taking care of me; staying up late at night giving me tumblers of Tang to drink, Nutter Butter cookies on which to munch, and keeping the cold pack cold. She was so “helpful” that it was not until near midnight that I was able to access my computer files with the videos I’ve made of unsuspecting women. I really like to hit slo-motion at the parts where I ask the women about their breaststs … which of course is merely a method of honing my counseling skills.
I hope my story makes some sort of positive impact on those who read it even though you are all weak, cowardly, unAmerican traitors not worthy of living in my county.
