PRIAPISM (GYNAECOCRACY Prequel)

n. an abnormal often painful persistent erecti0n of the peni$.

Cyborg Dick Cheney is on the treacherous dog-leg ninth hole at Shenzhen Golf Club in the Autumn of 2009. Still getting used to his cyborg arms, he has just crushed a 375 yard nine iron right through the dog leg and onto the adjacent seventh hole fairway. Although his new biomechanically enhanced cyborg voicebox has unleashed a stentorian "FORE!," the ball lands just a few feet from Vladimir Putin, who is trying to figure out a way to get his ball out of the sand trap without murdering a dissenting journalist. Pissed off that someone would hit onto his fairway, he immediately jumps on the back of his Ukrainian caddy/golfcart, clicks his tongue twice, and heads right for C-Dick. Constantly on the alert for threats both seen and unseen, C-Dick activates his automatic clotheslining arm once his new biometric software senses a look of vexation on Not At All Cyborg Putin's face. He knows he can neutralize this threat, even if it takes ten years and two trazillion dollars...

VP: "Dude, what the f*ck?!"
CDC: "Processing..."
VP: "You just hit into my fairway, you douche!"
CDC: "Affirmative."
VP: "Listen, I know you're a cyborg now, but do you have to talk like a computer?"
CDC: "Negative. Just f*ckin' witcha, man. Sorry about my ball. Sometimes I have trouble controlling my balls."
VP: "Dude, tell me about it. My balls have been all over the place these days."
Cyborg Dick's Unnecessary Instigation of Hostility Software kicks in...
CDC: "That's funny, I heard you didn't have any balls."
VP: "WHAT?! Listen, bitch, bionic arms and legs or not, I will crush you."
CDC: "Negative, Trotskyite."
VP: "Alright, please don't fall back into the computer talk. Its really annoying."
CDC: "What's annoying is the fact that you have yet to engage me in hand to hand combat despite the fact that my instigation hostility software has been recently updated to include people I really shouldn't f*ck with."
VP: "Well, if its hand to hand combat you want, then take this!"
Putin judo chops C-Dick across the throat, expecting to instantly crush his copper-plated windpipe. C-Dick is unfazed. He gets Putin from behind in a deadly headlock and wrestles him to the ground. C-Dick stands over him. His face wears it's signature sneer of disgust, or maybe that's just how his face looks. Your author still hasn't figured that one out.
VP: "Alright just finish me. I am defeated."
CDC: "Dude, you're not giving up already? What a wussy!"
VP: "Seriously. Just do it. Those Chinese intelligence agents are watching from the soda machines behind the next tee and there's really no way of saving face at this point. You know how they are about face and $hit. They'll never let me live this down. I've had a good life. Got to bone Anna Kournikova twice. Finally got to meet Misha Mouse in person at Baghdad Disney. Wish I would have stuck with the piano lessons when I was a kid though. My mother always said I would regret it. All in all, its been a good run."
CDC: "One question before I terminate you. Did you really kill that ex-spy guy in London?"
VP: "Umm, yeah, he was a dissenter!"
CDC: "So that radiation really works huh?"
VP: "Nah...it was just cooties."
CDC: "Cooties? You don't say! We haven't used that since our nation was in seventh grade. I like your style, man. Okay, now prepare to die."
Just then, Putin sees a small blue diamond-shaped button on the inner part of C-Dick's titanium encased bionic thigh. He instinctively pushes it and unleashes a true weapon of mass destruction.
CDC: "DUDE! You have engaged my Spontaneous Priapism Mechanism! My one weakness! All other systems will shut down. Cyborg Brain going into sleep mode. All sorts of bad decisions possible. Ability to promise anything heightening."
VP: "I've got you right where I want you. Prepare to die. I will get my face back!"
Putin gives the titanic teflon-kevlar composite member a vicious tug, which does nothing but unleash a powerful stream of battery acid right into his face. He is blinded and writhing in pain in the intermediate rough, which was cut pretty generously such that anyone could really play a ball from the middle of their stance and with very little downswing, as if they were in the middle of the fairway. The Chinese have yet to perfect their course management skills.
C-Dick, newly revived and back to his senses, lights up a bionic cigarette.
CDC: "Looks like you'll never get your face back now, motherf*cker! And I mean that in both the literal and figurative sense."
C-Dick steps on Putin's throat, pitches onto the green, two-putts and makes a four. He decides to hit the clubhouse after nine holes and meet Bionic Kissinger and William F. Buckleytron for a martini in the clubhouse. He would regale them with the story of how he FINALLY made par on the ninth. He might mention that pushy Russian, but there was really no point in spoiling the afternoon with an unpleasant anecdote. There were so few truly pleasurable moments these days, even with their new cybertronic bodies, and he didn't want to spoil things. Negative, he did not.