The day: 21 August 2001. The location: Just outside Tomsk, Russia, in what is currently known as the settlement of Timiryazevskoye. I am to meet Dr. Igor Vandofsky to discuss the theoretical production of a new plutonium allotrope. A small boy is carting me through a humble village, when I spot a brothel. The sight of 4 underage, famished Russian girls in American smocks smoking Newports is a dead giveaway. I flip the boy a U.S. nickel and chart a new course to the steps of said brothel. As I enter the brothel, my ears are met with what I can only describe as the mating call of the copper-throated sunbird of Southeast Asia. I realize this is one of two described species of Southeast Asian game bird which has yet to grace the presence of my trophy room. I turn, my fingers strumming the holster of my Canadian flintlock pistol. What I witness next changes my life forever. Next to a small vase serving as what I can only surmise is a rudimentary tip jar atop the madam’s counter is a barely functional 13 inch color television. Projecting towards my being is the most ethereal young woman I have seen since the prostitute I rented in the village of Kiprichi the previous eve. Her delicate head slumped about the edge of a couch constructed of wicker and leopard print fabrics. Her fair countenance defiled by the merciless thrusting of an aroused male phallus. Her hair dangles about a patch of green carpeting like dandelion spores dancing about a fertile forest floor. Her face, once clean and pure, is rendered unrecognizable by a bevy of glandular secretions. She whelps repeatedly like an exotic trophy bird as her head is made the subject of unclean love. The film: Gag Factor 5. The performer: Aurora Snow. And William X. Brighton III was not unmoved. I asked the madam’s 8 year old daughter for the remote. The cigarette in her hand is quickly replaced by a zenith universal remote lacking a rewind button. I curse the heavens as the male performer finishes in the starlet’s corrupted mouth. I then select my entertainment for the evening from a formidable lineup of adequate wenches and retire to a dingy upstairs room where I force things upon her which most American women dare not dream of. I am William X. Brighton III. This was my first Gag Factor experience.

You rock, however...

1). They don't have Newports in remote villages in Russia. More likely she was smoking Prince. Or Davidoff if she was really lucky.

2) The boy wouldn't have accepted the nickel because foreign exchange places and banks don't exchange coins.

But I do applaud your research in making the date of your story coincide with the 2001 release date of GF5. :gunk gunk gunk:

Marvelous exceptr for the ill advisec and plain worong analogy between Ms. Snow's buffeted hair along the carpet and "dandelion spores" which deflates considerableu the wonderful Nabokovitude of this entry. But I gess that is just nitpicking. I'd like to hear you elaboarate on it some more. What do you make of the fact that Snow ceases to make the otherworldy protesting noises at about the midpoint of this 'scene', even though the penis continues in the fashion it had? Is it a physivcal change or a deliberate mental suppression on her part do you figure? And about her hair: there comes a point very late in this regrettable occurance when she begins coughing normaly as the cockdick uncesaases and the camera operator pans froim her face down over her hanging hair where much salivaphlegm has accummulated. Whast does you make of that or what does it malkes you feel?> Also did you think back to thjis media when less than three weeks later the United States was assaulted as if in a frenecious fever dreams?

haha like the Percy Ross guy in the newspaper article- "Ask a Millionaire" or whatever.

WXBIII=Windsock=COAH=Simp

It ain't Windsick.

I think this shit is superfunny!