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Bond in Syria

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Inside of a plane over Syria. Bond has a parachute strapped to his back.

M: Bond, we're going to drop you over Syria to fix the problems there. You'll be entering a war zone, but don't worry you'll be all prepared wearing a luxury suit and dress shoes with no bullet proof vest. Enjoy your GQ photo shoot!
Bond: I'm not doing a photo shoot though. (he yells as falling out the door).
Bond: [taps his watch]. M, I'm on the ground. What's the plan from here?
M: Well, news is they have chemical weapons and the terrorists want to kill rebel groups opposing their viewpoints. They have armed guards everywhere ready to gas the country so make sure that you kill all their friends and have sex with the head terrorists wife. That should ease tensions and make him change his mind about killing everyone.
Bond: Great! I'm on it.

[Bond approaches local bar where he may find information about how to locate the terrorist.]
Rendezvous: Good evening 007.
Bond: Wait, you're that rich person that broadcasts your views about everything back home. What are you doing here?
Rendezvous:I'm funding his campaign for president.
Bond: How can you support him? He wants to commit genocide.
Rendezvous:Who can blame him? When poor people want to fix their health problems and live in safer neighborhoods with less crime.
Bond: I'm leaving. Everyone here is stupider than I thought.
Rendezvous: Listen, I paid a couple million dollars in taxes last year. Thanks Delaware. Anyways, I'm pretty sure they don't have a translation for audit here. Plus I don't have to hear about Jesus.
Bond Wow, 8% tax rate. Nice job. There's a plane that just flew off a cliff and a dirtbike right there. I'll have about a minute to get in the plane and correct the nose dive or accidentally commit suicide. Opportunities like this don't pop up everyday.
Rendezvous: You can't leave 007. There's cocktails here and look at the size of the gummy bear tits on that one!
Bond: Bye.










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