Adam and Steve
By: Dispatches Civil War
Tags: Civil War, Socialism, Christianity, Satire, Homophobia

Adam Steele thought he had seen it all. He thought that he had known all the depravity that the decadence of modern society could sink too. But what he has just seen he knew he could never be unseen. And it was there, unmistakable, incontrovertible evidence. Something in the water somewhere was causing frogs to turn against nature and MALE FROGS WERE HAVING SEX WITH MALE FROGS. Humans do such a thing, sick lifestyle choices, but frogs? They have only instinct. Something was put in the water to make the frogs act this way. He turned off Infowars and wondered where is this happening, could it be happening in MY community? And if so, is it part of a plan to make a bio-weapon to use against normal (And totally not gay) people.

Steele had long fought the continued encroachment of the Homosexual agenda. He campaigned tirelessly against drag queen story hours, fairness ordinances, for the rights of cake bakers and thrice divorced county clerks. He also knew that in order to understand the enemy better he had to research how they thought, which is why he spent countless hours searching for nearby men on Grindr to meet and have discussions with at the park bathroom. He of course would never enjoy the blowjobs, he was just wanting to see what motivated the enemies of THE LORD. His wife had some questions for him once about why he had so many gay porn sites in his internet history. “It’s for research of course! Stop asking questions!” he snapped back. He knew he needed to use incognito mode after that. There were some of these local deviants who he had encountered when rallying against the homosexual club that just opened, perhaps some of them were involved.

He knew though, that he needed to do more research. He got on Youtube and started searching for information about gay frogs. It turned out there was indeed a Pentagon project to create a gayness weapon. Supposedly it had been discontinued….or had it. Countless videos showed evidence of the decline of moral fiber, strange behavior of animals and other things. But the evidence was not enough. He needed to get out there and see what was happening in the nearby streams. He sort of remembered some stuff from science class, but didn’t really pay much attention because he played football and knew that learning things wasn’t what REAL MEN did.

He went and got a net that he used sometimes when he needed to move the koi that he had in the pond at his house and headed off to the local park. He knew one end had a lake with a lot of frogs in the cattails. As he made it there he could hear the ribbiting and croaking of various frogs and he set to work trying to catch some. He figured that if he caught some he could see if they were male and female and tried to breed. If they didn’t he’d know that they had turned….homosexual. He finally caught two. One was smaller and had a lighter color and a spotted pattern like a little leopard. The other was pretty big and green and had made deep sounds like “jug-o-rum” before he caught it. Obviously the smaller, more graceful spotted one was the female and the bigger one was the male. It made sense. There’s just one kind of frog right. He put them in jars and headed back to his house and set them in a fish tank. Since they are animals he knew they were going to do what animals do. To his shock and surprise the larger one opened its mouth, reached out and grabbed and ate the other! This can’t be right, the male wouldn’t mate with the female. It must only be interested in males! What is going on in this town?

Back at his cozy suburban McMansion, he got back on Facebook and shared his findings with his group “Real Men Against the Queermosexual Agenda.” Leftists, and the Globalists they serve had tried time and time again to shut their group down, but every time even the notorious Venezuelan Socialistic Facebook had said that their page that openly discussed committing hate crimes all the time “Did not violate community standards.”

“I think its happening here,” he typed. “The evidence from my research can’t be refuted.” Everyone in the comments agreed. Something had to be done. “You need to find the source of this Gaymosexual infestation,” his buddy Steve Rawlings replied. Briefly a thought crossed his mind of them together. “No homo! Just bros being bros,” they said to each other. He put it out of his mind, back to business.

“Yeah I’m going to try to infiltrate the den of iniquity that is the campus and find the lab, destroy the bomb,” he wrote to Steve. “I think it’ll be easier to get in, so I’m gonna go it alone. If I’m not back by tonight, they got me.”

It was a bright morning and Adam was “On his way to class.” He had exchanged his freshly pressed khaki pants for some jeans and his Lacoste polo for a Biden 2020 shirt which would surely allow him to blend in as a leftist deviant, He made sure to sensibly pack his Desert Eagle in his backpack in case he ran into any trouble with A.N.T.I.F.A. Despite its modest size, reliability and ease of handling-he was having difficulty attempting to conceal it in his pants and realized the backpack would be the best choice. Hopefully the fact it was in multicam and was covered in MOLLE webbing and tactical pouches wouldn’t stick out. He decided to wear a buff, that way he could appear to be ‘wearing a mask’ but also concealing himself and giving himself enough oxygen to resist George Soros’s mind control subliminal broadcasts. As he walked down past the buildings with effeminate signs like “Department of Sciences” and “Department of Humanities” he wondered what hope America had left if they were taken over by these Socialistic Communist traitors and the Christian West went up in smoke. He kept getting lost among the teeming masses of pink and green haired millennials that he knew would kill him, if they found out who was. “Where is the lab, I’m on my way to the Young Communists meeting?” he finally asked one. “Which lab?” they replied.

“Shit, they’re onto me!” Steele thought as he darted away and into the nearby building. He had to find somewhere to hide until the heat died down as he wondered the halls. He finally found a small closet and took refuge in there.

After what seemed like hours, Steele realized that he needed to come out of the closet and get to work. It seemed like late afternoon, and the campus looked deserted. “They must be done with indoctrination and off to having orgies or whatever they do in their dorms,” he thought, basing his guess off of detailed searches he conducted by typing in “College Dorm” on Google and turning off safe search to get around leftist censorship. As he came to the end of the hallway and was about to head out the door, he chanced to look at the wall on the left. A map!

Surely these crazed leftists wouldn’t be so careless as to just leave a map of the campus just on the way for patriots like him to find. As he looked he realized, there were actually multiple labs on the campus. But which one was the gay bomb being made at? The biotechnology lab seemed promising-it was isolated from the rest of campus and that word is the sort of thing that people making a gay bomb would use. It was a long walk-he’d be caught if he had drove here in his Chevy Silverado with its lift kit. He knew its was gonna be dark before he got there-Steve would think he hadn’t gotten back-but it couldn’t be helped.

He finally caught sight of the lab as he made is way around the football stadium (Or at least it was a stadium, before Communist activists took it over and the university made it the Antifa/BLM/LGBTQ Pride social center). Unlike the rest of the campus the lab looked like hive of activity. He darted behind some bushes before a group of people came around the corner. It was a close call as he peered out and saw who they were. It was a column of what looked like Venezuelan soldiers! Green uniforms, ski masks and carrying AK-103 rifles, they marched in a small column up to and into the main entrance of the lab. As he looked over at the flagpole on the building he was disgusted to not see the red white and blue, but some foreign flag-the colors were bands of light blue pink and white. He didn’t know what country it was but he remembered seeing that flag before-being flown by the most hardened and militant of the enemies of THE LORD. He knew he’d never just be able to walk in the front door, so he’d have to find another way in. He darted into the stadium, hoping to either find a way onto the roof of the lab or maybe a sky walk connecting the two buildings. Walking around this stadium was shocking. Gone were the posters of All-American sports heroes of old-replaced with liberal socialist propaganda. Pictures of Black Panthers, workers striking because they were to lazy to work, smiling happy people dancing on burning cop cars. Looming largest of all, a banner with antifa supersoldiers standing behind The Squad as those four evil women trample Ben Shapiro underfoot. Ilhan Omar is pointing to a rising sun, the rising sun replaced by a circle A. “Lord Jesus Christ Trump help me in this den of iniquity,” Adam prayed, asking THE LORD for protection.

Adam was suddenly startled by a click-the sound of a Kalashnikov safety being disengaged. As he turned around and began fumbling in his backpack to remove is outlandishly large handgun he realized he was surrounded. “Drop your weapon chud!” a commanding voice barked.

“You’ll never take me alive!” Adam bellowed in response as he finally pulled out his Desert Eagle and leveled it at one of the shapes in the gloom. But suddenly he felt a sharp thump on the side of his head. Everything went dark.

His head throbbed in intense pain when he came to. He tried to get up, and realized he was restrained, shacked to a hard metal chair. An intense light beamed down on him. He decided to look around the room. To his left he saw what looked like a balcony and windows. To his right were several Antifa guards, their Vityaz 9mm submachine guns pointed at him.

“Don’t try to entertain any foolish ideas of trying to skip out on your trial, enemy of the people,” came a voice from in front. He finally looked to face his captors. Directly in front of him stood a blonde woman. She was wearing a clean, crisp olive green gymnastyorka. Her olive pants had a red stripe down the side and were neatly tucked into impeccably polished sapogi, Her ushanka appeared custom made. He realized that he was facing Chelsea Manning the most ruthless of the Anti-fa commissars.

Behind her was a long table with four figures sitting behind it. On the wall behind them were four flags, the flag of A.N.T.I.F.A., the rainbow flag, the flag of Venezuela and that flag with the pink, blue and white stripes again. His heart sank when he realized who those four figures were-The Squad in the flesh.

Ayanna Pressley stood up and read a statement:

“Adam Steele, you stand accused of counterrevolutionary activity against the people’s army, espionage, sabotage and bourgeois decadence against the glorious liberal socialist revolution on this the 4th day of the month of Pelosi on Year Zero of the New Order. Do you confess to your crimes?”

“Eat shit godless leftist!” Adam screamed as he spat at them.

“Wrong answer,” Ilhan Omar said, coldly. “Comrade Commander Commissar Manning, let this chud know that these are serious accusations and that this People’s tribunal is not to be taken….lightly.”

“Yes Comrade Leader Omar,” Chelsea replied. She undid the flap of her leather holster and drew out a worn, but well-maintained Zastava M70A pistol. With a swift flick she smacked the butt of the pistol across Steele’s face.

Steele spat out blood. “You commie bastards think your gay bomb is going to turn us all into queermogaymosexual commie libs, but you’re wrong our god will prevail and you’ll go down in flames,” he said.

The squad and Manning broke out laughing. “Gay Bomb, you think that’s what we’re doing here, mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!” Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez cackled. “You think so little of our capabilities. Perhaps you need a demonstration of our power. Commissar Chelsea, lead him to the balcony.”

The squad got up as Manning unshackled Steele and let him at gunpoint to the balcony. Below them were assembled thousands of Anti-fa supersoldiers, as well as a large body of battle-hardened Venezuela’s Special Action Forces. Behind them, about 40 Tatra trucks, each armed with a ballistic missile.

“We were at one point working on adapting the pentagon tested gay bomb,” Manning explained. “But were never able to properly develop a dispersal mechanism and turned to other weapons. Aside from using this facility to engineer and grow the supersoldiers you see were we were finally able to perfect our superweapon. Each of these missiles contains an air dispersed form of the MMR vaccine, as well as the newest version of the Covid vaccine-a far more potent weapon than any ‘gay bomb’ could ever be. Hwa! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!”

“You bastards! Your plan is almost perfect too.” Steele said.

“Indeed, and it was stupid to think you ever had a chance of stopping us.” AOC replied. “And now as we prepare to deploy each of these weapons against American suburbs-using our supersoldiers to clean up the rest-you will have an appointment with the guillotine. But first, watch the end of your tradition.”

“You wanna hit this Manning?” Omar asked. “Sure thing,” Manning replied as shackled Steele to a chair again.

AOC produced a large bible and began tearing out pages. She then got out some of the Dankberry Ku$h 69 she had been saving and rolled a big ass joint for all of them. Adam Steele recoiled in horror as the moral guide of the Christian west went up in cloud of dank chronic.

“And now comrades, we shall read from the Book of Dankberry Kush Verse #69,” Manning said. “You want to hit any of this Adam?” Adam thrashed in the chair, powerless to stop these wicked blasphemers as they got high as fuck from the Devil’s weed and said terrible things about Jesus Trump Christ. Even the Antifa guards joined in on the fun.

As Adam Steele was led down the corridor to the guillotine, he looked out the window to watch the missiles lifting off. He knew each of them would be spreading their lethal payload over the suburbs in minutes. He shuddered to think about what was going to happen to his megachurch, the members of his Facebook group. If only he could have warned him. As the door was flung open and he was led up to the guillotine he took a look at the executioner.

The executioner removed his mask. Adam gasped. It was Steve Rawlings!

“I was on assignment to infiltrate and destroy your org and knew all about how you liked getting your dick sucked at the park while you encouraged hate crimes against the people you hooked up with the rest of the time. Now you will finally feel the hand of revolutionary justice.” Steve said.

Steele cried, begging for mercy as he was strapped down to the board and the blade was ready to be dropped.

“You know what they’re gonna say about this moment, Steele?” Rawlings asked.

“What’s that?” Steele asked.

“This day didn’t feature Adam and Eve, it featured Adam and Steve,” Rawlings answered, laughing.

The blade fell.