Oprahs Secret

Locked in geosynchronous orbit 100 miles above the planet, Oprah Winfrey sat upon a throne of white women inside her secret space lair.

The technological wonder had been the result of a collaboration between several of the worlds most wealthy and power mad figureheads in history. Soon after completion of the secret space craft, all executive parties involved in its finances had mysteriously died in tragic accidents, leaving Oprah as its sole proprietor. She cleverly named the immense space station 'The O-Zone Lair'. The O-Zone was outfitted with the latest weaponry and surveillance technology, crafted by Nazi scientists, which Oprah had enslaved.

"Momma want mo syrup on huh hotcake!" bellowed Oprah. "Yessum" squeaked a 20 something white girl in a maid outfit as she hastily poured an unhealthy amount of Aunt Jammima's syrup onto the pancakes. As the girl finished pouring, a small ribbon of syrup dropped from the dispenser onto Oprah's lap. "God Daaaamn!" Oprah bellowed as she hurled the plate full of pancakes at the retreating girl, hitting her in the face. "I'm so sorry mam, cried the girl, I'll clean it up straight away". Before the girl could regain her footing, Oprah rose from her throne and stabbed her in the mouth with her scepter, its sharp point protruding from the back of her head. "O-Scope!" said Oprah as she walked to the center of the room. A periscope-like device rose from the floor at her feet. Oprah settled into a comfortable stance and rested her shiny forehead on the O-Scopes optic pad as she surveyed the Earth below.

Making 40 kts, the Gonja cruised on the surface toward Gilligan's Island, toward Hawks distress call three days earlier. Higgins had the con, his regal doberman's at his side. T.C. monitored sonar while Magnum got in some wake-boarding. Magnums awesome mustache curled into a smile as he carved and shredded behind the Gonja, his hairy legs glistened in the tropical sun betraying his incredible muscle-tone. JC