The Impotent Satyr
It was a dark night, illuminated only by the occasional street light fluttering across the glass windows of lobbyist Darrel Watermelon's Pontiac Fungalchode as it meandered the roads of Washington D.C. Tonight he was on the prowl for a loose senator or representative. Money was no issue, as gun-pushing Darrell (who could sell a nuclear warhead to a Buddhist monk) had stacks on stacks on stacks of Saudi Arabian money, and he was in the mood to blow some on a cheap floozie.
Darrelll picked up the most hideous senator he could see aimlessly roaming around. He let him in; they drove to a secluded spot behind Arby's, and Darrellll pushed some requests deep into the senator, who let scream an excited compliance. After they both put their ties back on, the senator demanded payment--an exorbitant amount that Darrelllll was quite reluctant to pay, but pay he did. The senator took the cash and stepped back out into the cold night. Perhaps he would have taken a 30 for dinner; or did his nails; or used the bathroom at the nearby Quiznos, alas, it was not meant to be.
Darellllll rammed his Fungalchode into and over the senator's surprised, frail body. Then back over once more for good measure. With the headlights shining on the now-dead politician, Darelllllll exited the vehicle and took back the $20,000 he'd just handed over; it was the perfect crime.
The last anyone saw of Darelllll!ll, he was hanging from a playground swing set, and was then, without reason, rubber-banded into the sky, leaving a trail of Benjamins before burning up in the atmosphere.