"Something is dead; let's be happy," Rumsfeld declared.

Words to live by...

And a conclusion is coming soon...

"Or have them killed," Rumsfeld said, "At least at my going rate."

Great line.

Just wish Condi coulda come along, but good setup for a plotline there.

As with J. Fielek, my conclusion is forthcoming.

Off topic but Bob Hope died of pneumonia yesterday. Buck the Marine, as well as everyone else who has ever worn Uncle's suit has tears flowing.

Just then, a large flock of sign holding hippies emerged around the hunters, chanting "Bush lied! People died!"
"Hey, that's kind of catchy." Bush said, swaying to and fro.
Rumsfeld slapped him. "Quiet you. Chomps! Go get them!"
Chomps lept out and began mauling the dirty, smelly hippies. Meanwhile, Cheney leaned over to Rumsfeld, and whispered into his ear, "Call the dog off. I have a plan." And then did some incoherent whispering. Rumsfeld smiled the bloodthirstiest smile ever, and yanked on Chomps's chain. "Chomps! Down boy!" Rumsfeld said.
The protesters circled the hunters and continued their chanting. Bush rose to speak, but Dick Cheney smacked him in the back of the head. "Hey, you biffed me!" Bush muttered, and sank back down with tears in his eyes.
Cheney rose to speak. "Hippie vermin, err, dedicated citizens. The president has realized the grave error he made, and that Iraq held no WMDs. We are here to find Saddam and restore him back into power, so he can go back to his violent oppression of the Iraqi people in peace!"

A large cheer erupted from the crowd. "Well in that case, we'll take you to him!" A particularly smelly hippie said.
* * * *

"He's in there." The smelly hippie said, pointing at a cave. Rumsfeld, Cheney, Bush and Chomps entered the dark cave. Inside, they found a replica of John Shaft's 70's porno style bedroom. Chomps began to growl angrily at the dozens of hippies lining the cave walls. The group walked to their center, where a man resembling Saddam Hussein sat, being fed strawberries by a naked hippie. "Sick him, chomps!" Rumsfeld shouted. Chomps lept into action. He charged right up to Saddam, teeth glaring. Just as he was about to bite, he caught a familiar scent and stopped.
"What's wrong boy? Git'em!" Rumsfeld shouted, but Chomps only licked Saddam's hand.

"Fine, I'll do it the old fashioned way" Rumsfeld muttered, and got his hands ready for a stranglin'. The three men walked over to Saddam, and Rumsfeld grabbed him by the throat and began choking him violently.

"Relax guy! You need a rest!" Saddam said, wrestling to free himself from Rumsfeld's iron grip. Cheney looked over and said, "Hold on Rummy! It's a mask!" And sure enough it was. Cheney pulled off the Saddam mask to reveal none other than Jeb Bush, governor of Florida.
"Hey, it's my brother Jeb!" Bush said, and ran over to hug his brother.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Rumsfeld said, still choking the governor. "Oh.." he finally noticed, and reluctantly released him.
"Hey guy!" Jeb said, and gave his brother a bear hug. "I was over here hunting Saddam, to get that 25 million dollars so I could buy golden pacifiers for all the democrats to stop their whining."
"But how did you end up here?" Bush asked.
"Well all those damned hippies surrounded me and started chanting one of their catchy chants, and that was fun. But then they began throwing things at me, so I put on this Saddam mask. And it was the strangest thing; as soon as I put the mask on they began offering me aide and comfort, so I just went with it."
And they all had a good laugh. Except Chomps, who was busy gnawling on the entrails of a protestor.
"But then where's the real Saddam?" Bush asked.
"Well it turns out you actually killed him with those bunker busters a few months back. I didn't tell the hippies though, because I was enjoying their aide and comfort too much." Jeb replied.
"Hey isn't that Jane Fonda?" Rumsfeld said, and ran off in a murderous rage.
"My mouth taste like copper again..." Cheney muttered, and then fell to the floor clutching his left arm.
"I guess everything's back to normal." Bush said with a smile.

Just then, a military vehicle pulled up. "Buck the Marine! What are you doing here?" asked Bush.

"I heard there was a hunt for for'ners, sir. I didn't want to miss it."

"Good," replied Rumsfeld. "We can use someone who's been here before. We're looking for Saddam--any ideas?"

Buck scratched his head, "Well, sir, LT Smash said they're keeping his sons at Baghdad Airport until their daddy comes pick 'em up."

"Who's LT Smash?" asked Cheney.

"He's a 'warblogger' over here. Laura reads him to me every night," responded Bush.

Rumsfeld frowned. "Never heard of him. Is he like Frank J.? I love that guy!"

"Um, sirs, I think we best get a move on," said Buck impatiently. Chomps barked his agreement.

**********
Outside Baghdad Airport, the press was in a frenzy. On a makeshift stage, the bodies of Uday and Qusay were galloping and dancing about. During the drive over, Rumsfeld, Cheney, and Bush had decided to start the puppet show early. They hoped an angry Saddam would be lured out of hiding.

As the puppet brothers did the mambo, Bush was doubled over in laughter. Buck, Rumsfeld, and Cheney kept a watchful eye out for Saddam.

Chomps, busy in a corner tearing into a French reporter's leg, saw the puppet brothers out of the corner of his eye. They made him angry. VERY angry. He spit out the reporter and ran for the stage at full bore.

"No, Chomps!" yelled Rumsfeld.

"Aww, man, there goes my deal with NBC," Bush moaned.

"Let's just keep an eye out for a man in a yellow hat seeking vengeance to be on the safe side," Bush said.

Classic, Frank. Absolutely classic.

Suddenly, bullets came whizzing by their ears. Sand kicked up at their feet as metric ammo went flying by all around them. Loud ululations were heard and the very ground shook beneath their feet. Over a sand dune in the distance came…….. Helen Thomas.

“Why are you trying to steal $25 million from Iraqi children?” screeched the Wicked Witch of the West Wing.

Bush looked at her with a mix of contempt and confusion. Mostly it was exasperation, though. “Oh sweet weeping Jesus on the cross….. what are you doing here you old bat? Didn’t the doctors tell you not to leave your house? And where’d you get the AK-47 from?”

“Those doctors were fakes, and the AK-47 was given to me by Peter Arnette. It’s one he picked up during the first gulf war. Of course he was too much of a wuss to ever shoot it.”

“Well no argument on the Arnette thing.” Bush said, smiling at her. Out of the corner of his mouth he whispered to Rumsfeld. “Fire those damned ‘doctors’ and get somebody more believable next time.”

“Done,” said Rummy, the satellite phone already to his ear.

“Why are you illegally here in Iraq stealing millions of dollars?” she heckled Bush again.

“Listen you mindless bint, I can’t be stealing it from them – it’s already ours. What’s that shadow?” Bush looked up.

Fox News reporter Melinda Hawkish landed squarely on Helen’s head. Her parachute was immediately consumed by Chomps before it even had a chance to hit the ground. Parachutes made Chomps angry, for reasons even the world’s angriest dog did not really understand.

“What did I land on?” asked Melinda.

“A desert rat,” Bush said coldly. “A big, fat, desert rat.”

“What are YOU doing here?” Cheney gasped. He was still using up heartbeats after diving away from Helen Thomas’ wildly erratic gunfire.

“Buck the Marine called me and said that he’d gotten some intel about you guys going on a Saddam hunt. I want Saddam’s last interview before you turn him into a marionette.”

“Hey that TV deal’s supposed to be hush-hush!” Bush cried. “I don’t want anybody stealing my idea.”

“How is ol’ Buck?” Rummy asked. “He’s a good man, holding down the fort in Liberia for us.”

“He said the weapons drop wasn’t nearly large enough.” Melinda said. “He needs another pallet of ammo and some MREs, too.”

“Didn’t we send him 150,000 rounds of .223 and a whole box of chicken tortellini meals?” Bush asked.

“He’s a Marine. They want two things: food and ammo.” Melinda said matter-of-factly. Chomps yelped in agreement. Buck was one of the precious few people that made him less angry. Not happy, mind you – just less angry.

“Well, nobody ever killed Saddam by sitting in one place and waiting for him to ditty-bop on by. Let’s roll,” said Rumsfeld.

“I can’t move too fast in this heat,” Cheney said.

“Awww, woook…. Widdle baby is gonna have another coronary. Boo frickin’ hoo.” Rumsfeld chided him. “Get to steppin’. In thirty miles you can have a nitro pill.”

“Owned!!” Bush laughed at Cheney. “Hey, Rummy you gonna share that water?”

“What water?” Rumsfeld asked, as he screwed the cap back on his canteen. “I think there’s a watering hole aboouuuuttttt……. thirty miles from here.”

“I miss being undisclosed,” Cheney said as he shuffled off behind the others.

Just then, a rustle behind some nearby rocks silenced the hunters.

“What’s that?!” whispered Cheney.

“Might be another of them monkeys.” Bush said as he raised his rifle.

“Don’t shoot me!” cried a voice.

It’s me Dean. Howard Dean. You know the Gov of Vermont or Massachushitts or somewhere up there. Hell they all kinda run together.”

“Dean!” the hunting party cried in union.

“What you doing here” Rumsfeld said as he loaded another round.

“I need that 25 million! Hillary gonna bitch-slap everybody once she throws her pant suit into this ’04 race!” Gawd man it’s for the good of the country!” Dean said, visibly shacken and bloated from too much puppyaide.

“Democrats” Rumsfeld hissed while raising his rifle in the direction of Dean’s swollen face. “A bunch of whores, pimps, gamblers, and sons of bitches!”

“Steady boy” Cheney cautioned while he firmly held a growling, snarling Chomps. “You been reading too much Steinbeck.”

Bush looked quizzically at the rattled Dean, narrowed his gaze and wistfully stroked his chin. “Boys” he said, “I think what we got here is an opportunity.”

“Yeah, kill us a democrat,” sneered Rummy.

“Hush” said Cheney, “I think the boss is on to something”.

“Ways I sees it, we let this Vermont weeny here get the Boogie man of Bagdad and collect the 25 large.’

“There’s an H in Baghdad boss.” A pedantic Cheney said gently.”

“O yeah. Anyway, we let Mean Dean here bag our boy and collect. Then that way he can run good against Helsinki Hillary and, well...” Bush trailed off, lost in deep, deep random thoughts. Then in a much quieter voice “We can beat ole Weeny Deany hear like a red-headed step child come election time.”

“You mean I can’t kill me a democrat?” Rumsfeld whined.

“Not Yet, not today at least” said Bush. He wore the look of a man whose plan was complete. A scheme so infallible that it was beyond reproach, beyond question, beyond the childish rant of Peter Jennings. “Give ‘em your rifle Cheney.”

“Awww.’

"Sush, and give ‘em your gun.” Cheney tossed his rifle at Deans feet. As Dean reached down to pick up the gun, Chomps anger had boiled to a point never reached before in the long history of man and dog. The angriest dog in the world could not contain his anger no longer. Seeing an armed Democratic right in front of him was just too much to tolerate. With one mighty lunge, Chomps dislocated Cheney’s shoulder, elbow, four fingers and a thumb. Dean lit out like a dog licking a gravy plate with Chomps in hot pursuit.

“Boys, it’s gonna be an interesting election year.” Bush said with a grin.

“Yes boss” as the hunting party made its way back to camp.

Awesome, this is like one of them DVD thingys with the alternate endings! Ingenious! Quick Frank, file a patent!

roq

“Why are you trying to steal $25 million from Iraqi children?” screeched the Wicked Witch of the West Wing.

Excellent, Mike...wish I thought of that! LOL

Someone's been reading (and ripping off?) IMAO.

http://thewiredpress.com/archives/culture/udayqusay.html

WOW!!!!!!!! So many great endings!
And you do have to choose, Frank. (This is the very reason why they always say "be careful what you wish for...!")

I was going to write one, but I can't beat Mike's. They're all great, but Mike's is ninja-tastic.

Then Dick Cheny turned on his portable tv and saw a segment on late night tv that showed Saddam running around in front of one of president bush's press conferences. After seeing this the president said "I thought that middle eastern guy that kept running through my conferences was saddam, but I didn't want them to know I was for racial preferences". They immediately flew home to have a press conference saying they had caught saddam hussein. When he ran in front of the conference they nabbed him, and everyone in the press thought they had already had him.

That puppyaide reference makes me think you should aid Gleen Reynolds to your list of characters :)

Why is Jennifer the only female with the cajones to participate? Huh?

(Also here)
****
Deep in a bunker not far from our heroes, Saddam Hussein Cowers.

“Ragheed! Ragheed! They are here!”

“Who, My Leader?”

“Rumsfeld! And his dog! Infidels both! Go forth and kill them!”

“No way, boss. Not me. Send Tawal-hayed.”

“I can’t. He’s getting me more puppies. I need a fresh drink. You go kill Rumsfeld.”

“Yes, My Leader.” Ragheed sighed and picked up his AK-47. He slowly walked from the room, his shoulders sagging. “I hate my job,” he muttered as the door closed.

****
“Don, what the hell are you doing?” Dick Cheney asked.

“Chomps smells something,” Rumsfeld replied.

“Grrrrrr,” Chomps growled, his anger rising at the scent.

“Where’s George?” Rumsfeld asked.

“It’s two o’clock. He’s taking his nap. It’s a good thing Laura remembered to pack Binky the Bear,” Cheney explained.

Suddenly, Chomps barked and lunged at the scrub, ripping the bushes out by their roots. Bushes made Chomps angry, blocking his view and keeping him from seeing other things that make him angry. Suddenly a scream tore the air. Chomps shook his head and flung a shabbily dressed Arab from the bushes. The man and his gun landed at Rumsfeld’s feet.

“Well, well. Hey Dick, it looks like Chomps caught us another rag head.”

“It’s Rag-HEED,” the Arab protested, bleeding from the stump of his left leg. “Have you seen my leg? I had it here a minute ago.”

“Chomps is playing with it. Ain’t he cute? Look, he’s playing fetch with himself!” Rumsfeld asked, a fierce gleam in his eye. Chomps tossed the leg in the air and caught it, growling fiercely. Being cute made him angry.

“Yes, he’s very cute. Please hand me that AK-47.”

“This one?” Cheney gestured at the rifle that had landed in the sand nearby. He picked it up and tossed it to the supine Arab. “Here. Have fun.”

“Hah-hah-hah! I have you now! You and your little dog, too!” Ragheed howled. He let loose a fierce ululation. He pointed the weapon at Rumsfeld.

“Take me to President Bush!” Ragheed ordered.

“No.” Rumsfled said calmly. “Chomps!” he shouted. Chomps looked up, the mauled leg dangling from his mouth.

“Chomps! This guy said you’re cute!”

Chomps growled and lunged, dropping the leg. His massive, powerful jaws clamped on the AK-47, completely covering the gun and Ragheed’s arms. Ragheed pulled the trigger and the muffled sound of gunfire echoed from Chomps rumbling belly.

“Way to go, Raghead. Now you’ve really pissed him off.”

Chomps shook his head violently, ripping the Arab’s arms from their sockets.

“It’s Rag-HEEEEEEEED!” he screamed. Chomps muffled the screams by clamping his jaws over the Arab’s face.

“Is he going to eat him?” Dick Cheney asked.

“Nah,” Rumsfeld replied, “Chomps doesn’t like sand in his food.”

“Me neither,” Cheney observed.

“What are we going to do about Georgie?” Rumsfeld asked. “I’m getting tired of this sandbox.”

“Well, if we hurry we can make it back to Washington before George wakes up.”

“Heh heh. I like it. We can tell him this was all a dream, like on Dallas. That’s what we do for some of his Press Conferences, too.”

“Great idea, Don. George was the only one who really liked that solution for ‘Who shot J. R.’ Let’s go.”

“Chomps! Rumsfeld commanded, “Let’s go!”

****
“Laura, it was the worst dream ever!” George whined. “I woke up all unhappy. I thought I was gonna get Saddam! And the $25 Million!”

“It’s okay, honey,” Laura cooed. “We’re lucky Rumsfeld and Dick woke you up when they did.”

“Yeah! They’re great guys! And they really liked my SpiderMan pajamas!”

“Yes they are, dear. They certainly are.”

“And did you see Chomps new toy? The rubber Iraqi Head?”

“Yes I did, dear. Now go back to sleep for a while.”

Nice ending Mike :-D

YES!! THE DAY IS MINE!! Phase 1 of my takeover of IMAO has begun....

'Tawal-hayed' ha ha ha ha Frank I still like your ending best though.