Part I

* * * *

Scott McClellan landed a flying kick to the dummy. He then ripped off its arms and beat it to pieces.

"With that," the elder said, "You have mastered the art of responding to reporters."

"What now, master?" Scott asked, bowing before the elder.

"Now you get out of here before your dog attacks a load-bearing stone."

The ancient temple behind them collapsed. Chomps walked forward and spit out a piece of granite.

"Do you know how many thousands of years old that building was?" the elder shouted.

"We'll get you a new one," Scott said, running off, "I need to get to my next press conference!"

* * * *

"Ah, the chubby man returns," Zatoichi, the blind swordsman, remarked as he heard Scott enter the White House, "Yet he walks differently. There is confidence in each step. Feels like earthquake since he's fat. Heh heh!"

"No reporter is going to push me around now!" Scott announced, "I demand respect from all I encounter."

"So why do you not ask angry dog to stop biting your leg?" Ichi inquired.

Scott glanced a moment at Chomps and his threatening glare. "Because I don't mind it."

President Bush ran up to Scott. "We got a problem!" he exclaimed, "I was looking on a globe, and I thought I saw Chile move. Thus, I launched a tactical strike against it. I need you to explain this away to the press."

"It is my duty, and it shall be done," Scott told Bush as he bowed.

"Oh, and pick me up some smokes while you're out."

* * * *

"Hasn't the administration's idiocy destroyed relations with South America?" one reporter asked.

"Foreign relations are a delicate thing," Scott answered, "but it takes a particular wrong move to burst it all apart, much like a certain strike to the chest will explode the heart." Scott then shot out his hand and struck the reporter in the chest with two fingers. The reporter fell to the ground, blood gushing out his mouth. "Perhaps now you see."

"But isn't everything going in the wrong direction with these mistakes?" asked another reporter.

Scott charged him and sent a kick to his face. The reporter's head then flew off his body and rolled along the floor. "This man's head is not a perfect ball, and yet it rolls forward still," Scott said, "And, even with imperfections, our foreign policy can move forward as well. Any more questions?"

The press backed away in fear.

Scott bowed to them. "Then we are finished here."

* * * *

"Wow!" Bush exclaimed to Scott, "You inflicted almost as many casualties on the press as Rumsfeld does."

"But I don’t need to use fancy moves made by Asian homos to do it," Rumsfeld grumbled.

"You know," Bush continued, "every single day you've worked for us, Scott, I've said aloud, 'I sure wish we still had Ari instead of tubbo,' and, until just now, I hadn't said that today."

Scott bowed. "Your words bring me great honor."

"Cool! Now where's my smokes?"

* * * *

Scott looked to the reporters before him. "You have not said anything for the past five weeks. Do any of you dare question the Bush administration today?"

The press shivered, but then one man stepped forward. "I have a question," he said, his voice firm and unwavering, "and it gratuitously mentions Abu Ghraib."

Scott ripped off his suit jacket. "Then you will die!" He launched into a flying kick at the man, but it was blocked and Scott found himself smashing into the ground. Scott then looked up and recognized the reporter. "Shen Po!" he exclaimed, "Enemy of the Bronze Mongoose and new White House correspondent for the New York Times!"

"And the fury of your answers is no match for the power of my questions!" Shen Po laughed, "Now you will tell me where the ancient temple of the Order of the Bronze Mongoose is!"

"But shouldn't you already know where it is since you trained there?" Scott asked.

"Yes, but I lost my MapQuest printout," Shen Po responded, "Now answer so I may destroy the temple!"

"Uh... it kinda sorta already was destroyed... by accident."

"Then I shall take my vengeance against you!" Shen Po yelled and tried to stomp down on Scott. Scott rolled back to his feet and sunk into a fighting stance. "Ha!" Shen Po laughed, "You will not survive! For, with my kung fu, THERE IS NO ANSWER!"

TO BE CONTINUED...

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In My World
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