Jacqueline Coleman Hrabowski was distraught. Her Power Rangers-themed army had been destroyed by the prodigious might of Bill Cosby and her former husband, Freeman Hrabowski. She spent the next few months in a state of depression, alternating back and forth from spying on her husband and his new lover from her secret moon base to butt-chugging the moon’s finest wines.

It was amidst one of these anal-initiated, drunken stupors that Jacqueline heard a knock on her door. She went to open it, knocking over several framed photographs of her former boo, and was surprised to see a vivacious divorcee standing in front of her. Her skin was amber, like the color of her energy. Her bosoms taught and perky, like a woman half her age. And her temper was fiery, like a fire.

“Why, the former Mrs. Hrabwoski, I do believe we have something in common,” said Camille Hanks, the now ex-wife of Bill Cosby.

“Who do you … what do you want, Camille? Do you want to insert wine bottles into your rectum? Because I’m really good at it and I can show you how.”

“No, Jacky,” said Camille, “I didn’t come here to pour fermented grapes into my asshole. I’m over that phase of my life. I’ve come to recruit you. Recruit you for revenge!”

“But, Camille, I’ve tried everything. I sent an entire army of putties after them. And now they’re all dead. Dead I tell you!” Jacqueline collapsed into a pile of sadness. She also started leaking alcohol out of her behind, because she was now too sorrowful to squeeze her butt cheeks shut any longer. Gross.

“You haven’t tried everything. Come with me. By the end of this, our husbands will be dead and you will be the queen of UMBC!” said Camille. She kicked a turtle to emphasize her point. The turtle hit two adult plumbers and they shrunk down to the size of children. Then the plumbers rescued a fruit-based princess.

The sobbing ex-first lady of UMBC stifled her tears and stood up. She like the sound of the word ‘queen’. She liked it a lot. Jacqueline and Camille drew knives and sliced open their palms, squeezed them together in a pact of evil, and became blood sisters. The deed was done.

Millions of miles away, on the planet Earth, Bill Cosby woke up in a cold sweat. His screams of terror woke up his partner, Freeman Hrabowski.

“What is it, Bill?” asked Freeman.

“I don’t know, Hrabowbow,” said Bill Cosby, using his pet name for the grand and benevolent UMBC president. “But I do know that it’s bad. Whatever it is, it’s bad.”

“Do you know what would make you feel better?” asked Freeman.

Bill shook his head.

“Butt sex,” said Freeman “and lots of it.”

Then Bill Cosby and Freeman Hrabowski had lots of orgasms because they were really good at sex, almost as good at sex as they were at inspiring millions of our nations youths.

Bill Cosby and President Hrabowski had morphed into Power Rangers to defend themselves from the army of Putty Soldiers that Freeman Hrabowski’s wife had sent to destroy them. President Hrabowski had always known that his wife was evil, but he had no idea that she was pure evil. When Jacqueline Coleman Hrabowski found out that Freeman was leaving her for Bill Cosby, she lost what little control she had over her dark side. Soon, she had summoned Goldar to lead an attack on the UMBC campus.

Of course, President Hrabowski was too proud of a man to ask for help. He struck against the Putty Soldiers with a lot of cool fighting moves he learned from Jackie Chan movies and one episode of Sailor Moon. But even the great UMBC president was no match for Goldar’s deadly blade.

Goldar thought that he had bested Freeman, but right before he could impale him on his demon’s blade, Bill Cosby came to save the day. He tossed Freeman a morpher, one of the ones he had procured in an Emmy Awards gift basket, and together they morphed into Power Rangers.

Freeman Hrabowski was the Black and Gold ranger, proudly wearing his college’s colors with the dignity and beauty of a wild platypus. Bill Cosby became the Electric Purple ranger, because that was his favorite color. Hrabowski’s quill of academic excellence and Cosby’s mic stand of prodigious might were strong enough to push back the evil army and soon Goldar was in dire straights. He quickly called out to his master, the repulsive and often vomit-inducing Ms. Hrabowski, for help. With a flick of her wand, Jacqueline cast a spell that made Goldar giant-sized.

But that wasn’t going to stop the venerable African-American duo. They called upon their powerful megazords to join them in battle! Hrabowski’s megazord, the Retrieversaur, burst out of its hidden sanctum underneath the UMBC quad, killing a bunch of students who should have been studying instead of playing frisbee. Bill Cosby called out FatAlbertSaur from it’s hideaway inside the Statue of Liberty. All the immigrants coming to America were sent home; it was a terrible price to pay in order to save America from Ms. Hrabowski.

But even the Retrieversaur and FatAlbertSaur’s prehistoric supremacy were not enough to fell the evil monkey-thing. Cosby and Hrabowski sent each other secret lover mental messages alerting them to the fact it was time to combine zords. The two formed a horrifically ugly megazord (because a dog and a fat child should never have babies) that literally ripped off Goldar’s face, swallowed it, and then shit it out onto North Korea.

Afterwards, Hrabowski and Cosby had lots of steamy butt sex inside the megazord cockpit. Ms. Hrabowski had no choice but to watch Bill Cosby violate her husband in his back door from her perch in space. GO GO POWER RANGERS.

THE END … OR IS IT?!?!

Dr. Bill Cosby laid next to his wife, Camille Hanks, bored from another unsatisfying and forced night of lovemaking. As he viewed her decaying, wrinkled body, still convulsing from the intense orgasms Bill was effortlessly able to give her with just his fingers, he began to regret marrying her. Homosexuality was not as easily accepted in Hollywood circles in 1964 as it is now. To get ahead, to “make it”, he forced himself to love Camille. But he always knew something was wrong.

And then he met Freeman.

Freeman Hrabowski was also hiding behind a sham of a marriage. When Bill had met Freeman on a visit to Freeman’s college, UMBC, in 2012, the chains that bound his heart were broken. It was as if a weight had been lifted, and that weight was his wife, who was especially weighty because of how fat and gross she had gotten in her later years. It wasn’t her fault - she was always surrounded by the delicious flavors of Jell-O pudding. Bill really regretted asking Jell-O to be paid in a lifetime supply of pudding.

But Freeman Hrabowski’s body was not fat. He had not worn it down with mouthfuls of pudding. The UMBC president’s body was an aerodynamically engineered jet fighter, with pectorals that fired like tomahawk missiles. It began with “accidental” trips into UMBC closets, where the two famous black leaders would get “lost” … lost in each others’ eyes. Soon the two were making furious, rabbit love in the RAC showers.

When his wife passed out from all the energy she had expended orgasming, Bill turned away from her and picked up the phone. He nervously dialed Freeman’s number.

“WHO THE HELL IS CALLING AT 3 IN THE MORNING!” answered Freeman in a thunderous, deep voice that made Cosby’s genitals quiver in excitement.

“It’s Bill.”

“Oh baby, I’m sorry I yelled at you. SHUT THE FUCK UP, JACQUELINE COLEMAN HRABOWSKI! BILL COSBY IS TALKING!” Freeman’s wife continued to cry in the background of the conversation. “I’m sorry,” said Freeman, “You know how my wife can get.”

“Have you told her you’re leaving?” asked Bill.

“I will, baby. But now’s not the right time. Give me a few months. Let me prepare. Set some funds aside. Then I can be with you.”

“Good. I’m glad. What are you wearing?”

“I don’t want to say,” coyly replied Freeman. A tiny giggle escaped his lips.

“Is it one of my sweaters?” asked Bill.

“Yeah. And I’m jacking off into it right now. DON’T LOOK AT ME WHEN I MASTURBATE, JACQUELINE!” Her sobs only deepened.

“Oh yeah, I’m masturbating, too. I’m masturbating to this phone conversation, Freeman. I’m almost there! Say that thing that turns me on so much!” demanded Dr. Cosby.

“Watch your thoughts, they become words. Watch your words, they become actions. Watch your actions, they become habits. Watch your habits, they form your character. Watch your character because it shapes your destiny.”

By the last syllable of the word destiny, both men were screaming tremendously into their phones. They had come at the same time. Destiny indeed.

“I love you, Bill.”

“I love you, too.”

They both passed out and had the sweetest dreams. Jacqueline continued to cry until the next morning.

THE END

President Freeman Hrabowski III had just finished another manly and testosterone-filled workout when he decided it was time to wash all that dirty, dirty filth off his body. He entered the RAC men’s room and made a beeline for the shower. Hrabowski was very surprised to see the naked body of Bill Cosby washing himself.

Time slowed down for Hrabowski as he gazed upon the ebony-skinned beauty before him. One would think that age would have ravaged the elderly comedian’s body, but for Freeman Hrabowski, the wrinkles and spots only made Bill Cosby that much sexier. Slowly, Bill Cosby rubbed soap all down his muscular chest, his taught abs, and finally to his engorged penis. It is true what they say about black penises, thought Freeman (he had never examined his own penis because he had never had a need for it until now).

Freeman Hrabowski could not tell you if he stripped down to nothing in that moment or if fate had spirited his clothes away. All he knew was that he was stark naked and rapidly approaching the wet Bill Cosby. Like a lion attacking a gazelle, there was no maliciousness behind Freeman’s attack. This was all his animal instinct driving him forward.

Bill Cosby let out the tiniest of gasps as Freeman entered him. He looked back to see whom the magnificent cock that was inside of him belonged to. When he grasped the loyalty, respect, and greatness in the eyes of one of Time Magazine’s 100 most influential people in the world of 2012, Bill Cosby gave a silent nod of acceptance. If the ecstasy he was feeling was not so intense, Bill Cosby would have managed to utter the words, “Come at me, bro.”

The president began to grind against Dr. Cosby, pushing him harder and harder into the shower wall. It was difficult to tell what was more steamy, the evaporating water or the erotic love-making between the two venerated black men. But the they didn’t care. They were lost in an ocean of sensuality. Dr. Cosby screamed for more, and Freeman Hrabwoski gave it to him.

As both men reached climax, they collapsed onto the shower floors. By then, a group of concerned UMBC lacrosse students had formed an audience around the two. “Are you okay?”, asked one of the players.

“Son”, began Bill Cosby, “we are more than okay. The only way this could get any better is if one of you young men could bring us some jell-o pudding.” A lacrosse player did a backflip and tossed the puddings at each of the exhausted beauties mid-air with aplomb and grace. The cuddling men, still holding each other tenderly, grabbed the pudding and started eating it with their fingers. In playful moments, they would paint each other in shades of butterscotch and vanilla.

Freeman Hrabowski giggled and told his lover, “Dr. Cosby, this was the greatest day of my life.”

His lover looked back at him and said, “I know, Freeman Hrabowski III. Mine, too.” Then they kissed and all of the lacrosse players cheered.

THE END