Michael Flynn,  President Donald Trump’s former national security adviser, is a happy man. Yesterday, a U.S. appeals court directed a federal judge to drop a criminal case against him for lying to the FBI.

“They got bupkis,” Flynn told The Lint Screen. “Those dirty coppers tried to send me up the river, stick me in the hoosegow, and do a stretch in sing-sing. But those flatfoots couldn’t make it stick, see? And guess what? They ain’t never gonna get the bracelets on this fella’s flippers. No siree, Bob!”

Billy ‘Bootlick’ Barr, the Attorney General of the United States, assisted in getting Flynn sprung from the joint.

Flynn spits on the ground, rubs the puddle with his Florsheim, and continues.

“Those dirty G-Men will never get me,” he says. “And if they think they can take me alive, they got another thing coming. This is the bossman’s racquet now, and they better toe the line. Or else justice will be served, let me tell you.”

Flynn spins his revolver on his finger, looks up, and smiles. He returns his piece into his shoulder holster and yanks a flask from his hip pocket. He tips the pocket bottle and lets gravity serve his gullet. Screwing the cap back on the flask, he returns it to his pocket.

“I gotta scram and get on the blower to the Cossaks. We got some unfinished business with the Ruskies to take care of. Прощай, присоска!”

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