“Man, it’s certainly been a stressing time, Dick. I have to worry about getting a good government set up in Iraq, and then I have to fight the Democrats to get tax cuts so I can improve the economy. But they don’t want the economy to improve since they’re weasels, you know what I mean, Dick?”
“Si, senor.”
Bush looked to the monitor. “You’re not, Dick. You’re still that Mexican.”
“Si, senor.”
“Why are you still at the undisclosed location?”
“I do not know, senor. One day people come and say, ‘We have to take you to your new location, Vice President Cheney.’ And I say, “I am not this Cheney you speak of.’ But still, they put a blindfold on me and take me away. Now I do not know where I am, senor.”
“Sorry about that,” Bush said, thinking hard, “Man, where could Dick be? If it gets out I lost the VP, you just know there is going to be more of those ‘Bush is dumb’ jokes.”
“Si, senor. I just came up with one myself.”
“Anyway, I’m going to nickname you ‘the Mexican’, ‘ight?”
“Si.”
Bush thought for a while. “How would you like to be the Vice President? It pays $192,600 a year… uh… I mean three bucks an hour.”
“What do I have to do?”
“Just appear to do a speech and then fake a heart attack to get out of it. Can you do that?”
“Si, senor.”
“Kickass. You’re a good American.”
“I’m a Mexican, senor.”
“Well… you’re a good whatever you are.”
“Shouldn’t you be looking for this Cheney you speak of?”
“Hey!” Bush said angrily, “I’m the president. I’m the idea man, ‘ight?”
“Si, senor.”
Bush then saw his wife Laura enter the room. “Hey, can I ask you a question, honey?”
“Sure dear.”
“If the Vice President suddenly looked more Mexican to you, how would you react?”
She just stared at Bush for a long while. Finally, she said, “Know what; I like to stay out of politics.”

“Has the Vice President been replaced with a Mexican?” asked a reporter.
“That’s crazy talk,” Whitehouse Press Secretary Ari Fleischer responded, “Anyone who thinks that is as crazy as Helen Thomas.”
“I heard that!” Thomas yelled.
“I know you did, you old hag!” Fleischer responded.
“If he wasn’t a Mexican,” said another reporter, “Why did he keep referring to us reporters as ‘stupid gringos’?”
“Because Vice President Cheney thought the phrase ‘assclowns’ was getting over used in his press conferences.”
“So what was up with the poncho and sombrero?”
Fleischer looked confused. “The Vice President wasn’t wearing a poncho and a sombrero.”
“No, I mean Bush.”
“Oh! Well, he had just watch some Westerns,” Fleischer explained, “You know how Bush is. Now can we have a question about serious policy issues?”
“There have been rumors that Syria has been harboring Iraqis and their chemical weapons. Why haven’t we just marched in there and killed all those mother f**kers? Is your administration a bunch of pussies?” asked a Fox News reporter.
“Hey, be fair,” Fleischer said defensively, “We have to be diplomatic about things like…”
The reporter started making chicken sounds.
“That’s not very professional!”
Bush and the Mexican then came running into the conference. “Hey! Me and my new best friend…” Bush noticed all the reporters. “I mean my old friend, Dick Cheney, have a great idea. We just found Daschle’s car and want to overturn it. It sure is going to be fun, isn’t it, Mexican?”
“When do I get to go back to Mexico? I miss my family.”
“You crack me up, dude,” Bush said, laughing. “So, Ari, you want to help?”
“Sure,” he answered, “but I get to wear the sombrero this time.”
“But it’s my sombrero!” the Mexican complained.
“Learn to share, dude,” Bush chided him.
“I can’t wait to see Daschle’s face once he finds his car overturned!” Fleischer exclaimed.
“You’ll get to see it right away,” Bush chuckled, “He’s still in the car!”