“But we need that tax cut to spurn the economy,” Bush pleaded.
“It’s just a tax cut for the rich!” Senator Tom Daschle responded, “It will only help the rich!”
“Liar! Liar! Liar!” Bush shouted back, “It will give money…”
Daschle covered his ears. “La la la! Not listening! Just a tax cut for the rich! La la la!”
“That’s it!” Bush screamed, “I’m going to stab you with this letter opener!”
Daschle ran out of Bush’s office, almost knocking over Condoleezza Rice on the way out. “Quick, Condi, hold him so I can stab him with my letter opener!” Bush called out.
“I’m not you secretary, Dubya,” Condi answered angrily, “It’s not my job to hold people while you stab them… and that’s not a letter opener – it’s a switchblade.”
“A switchblade can open letters,” Bush said, tossing the knife such that it stuck in the far wall. “I need your help, Condi; I have to get the economy improved to help win reelection.”
“I’m your National Security Advisor, President Jackass,” Rice answered, “If it doesn’t involve killing foreigners, it’s not my problem.”
“Hey, if the economy causes me to lose my reelection, then you’re out of job her and back to stripping at the Eager Beaver.”
“I never was a stripper!” Rice exclaimed.
“Hmm… that must have just been a product of my overactive imagination. Anyway, do you have any ideas?”
“Don’t you have some economic advisor?”
“Hell, I don’t know. There are all sorts of people who come up to me and say stuff during the day, I don’t understand what half of them are talking about.”
“Well, I do have one idea,” Rice told him, “You know how those Democrats fled Texas?”
“Yeah, what a bunch of pussies,” Bush chuckled, “Wouldn’t have happened during my term; I would have had Walker kick them all in the heads.”
“If you can get the Democrats in Congress to similarly flee to Canada, I can set up a task force to hunt them down and kill them.”
“That’s brilliant!” Bush exclaimed, “So all I have to do is scare them all into fleeing to Canada.”
Laura Bush then entered the room. “You’re not talking to that National Security Whore again, are you George?”
“But she had a great idea to help with the economy.”
“She was just trying to get you to drop your guard so she could trick you into nuking Finland again.”
“No I wasn’t!” Rice protested as she hid an unsigned executive order behind her back.
“What do you have against Finland anyway?” Laura asked.
“That’s between me and Finland,” Rice said angrily as she left the room.
“Hey, honey, I’ve wanting to talk to you,” Bush said softly.
“What about?”
“Can I get a katana like Morpheus?”
“But you already have a katana like the guy from Highlander!” Laura said with exasperation, “How many katanas do you need?”
“Just one more; I swear! Oh, and I had another idea. You know how President Kennedy stopped wearing a hat and then set the style for everyone? I was thinking that to my next press conference I could wear a black trench coat and sunglasses and maybe that would catch on.”
“I knew letting you see Matrix Reloaded was a bad idea. And it’s not like letting you land on an aircraft carrier has given you enough crazy ideas.”
“What?” Bush smiled, “You saying you didn’t like seeing me in that flight suit?”
“No, I didn’t mean that,” Laura answered, starting to giggle, “You think maybe you have time to put that back on and…”
“There is no time for that, woman,” echoed a voice throughout the room. The shadows in the room slowly merged into the form of Karl Rove. “We have work to do.”
“Hey, great you’re here, Rover,” Bush said, “I’ve been wanting to ask you a question: Who do you think will win American Idol? The big black dude or the little gay dude?”
“That’s of no concern to me,” Rove uttered darkly, “Now have your woman leave so we may talk business.”
“I’ve never heard such condescension!” Laura exclaimed, “I’m going to give you such a talking to after I check if my brownies are done, by golly.” Laura then stormed out of the room.
“You have plans to destroy the Democrats?” Rove asked hopefully, “Perhaps it is time for the prophecies to be fulfilled.”
“Yeah, maybe that or something!” Bush said excitedly, “We’re going to scare the Democrats into Canada.” He then yelled, “Ari!”
“What?” Ari Fleischer asked as he arrived at the door.
“Hey! Were you eating my cheetos?”
“No,” Ari said, wiping an orange substance off his mouth, “What do you want?”
“We need to find something to scare the Democrats away. What are they scared of?”
“Well… they’re scared of guns, cigarettes, loud noises, people spending their own money, certain spiders…”
“No, I mean what really like frightens them and keeps them up at night?”
“The thought of blacks getting educations, good jobs, and then voting Republican?” Ari ventured.
“Whatever it is, I need you to convince all the Democrats to flee to Canada.”
“I’ll try.”
“And I’ll use my dark powers to assist you,” Rove said before fading back into the shadows.
“So is that guy part of your cabinet or something?” Ari asked, “I never really understood his function.”
“I think he’s my boss,” Bush answered, looking around the room, “Where did I put my switchblade?”

“So there is nothing that the Democrats can do to keep us from getting our tax cuts,” Ari announced to the press, “Nothing can stop us.”
“Nothing at all?” asked a reporter.
“Well, nothing… unless they fled to Canada,” Ari said, “but that would be a bold move, and they would never do it. Instead they’ll stay here in D.C., where there is soon going to be a big march of the AAGO, the Association of Angry Gun Owners.”
“Isn’t it illegal for people to march around D.C. carrying guns?”
“Bah! Laws are for those who don’t have guns!”
“Is this all a trick so that you can slaughter the Democrats in mass after they have left U.S. soil?” asked a reporter. Suddenly darkness surrounded him and he burst into flames.
“New rule,” Ari announced, “If you spontaneously combust, I don’t have to answer your question.”
“Why is it that when it seems that a reporter is getting close to the truth,” one reporter stated, “He then is killed by some demonic force and…” A thought struck the reporter, and he suddenly became frightened. “Forget what I was just saying; I have a different question. Uh… does the president like kittens?”
“Yes, he finds them cute and easy to throw.”
“Since the terrorists who committed the bombings in Saudi Arabia are probably from Saudi Arabia, why haven’t nuked the crap out of the area in retaliation?” asked a Fox News reporter.
“That wouldn’t really be the diplomatic way to handle things.”
“I then have a follow up question: why are you such a homo?”
“”You think you can intimidate me with your pouty lips and your short skirt?” Ari shot back angrily, “We may not be as violent as you want, but we’re plenty warmongering.” Ari noticed protestors outside. “See, I’ll go beat up a protestor with his own sign. I’ll splatter some blood on a ‘No Blood for Oil’ sign; that will be ironic… or would it be ironic if I splattered oil on it?”
“Maybe you need to get both blood and oil on it for irony,” suggested one reporter.
“You want a piece of me too!” Ari shouted back. He then stormed outside to meet the protestors. “Bush is Hitler… Bush is Hitler… Bush is Hitler…” Ari said, reading the signs, “Bush is Stalin!?”
“Stalin was actually responsible for more deaths than Hitler,” the protestor explained, “I thought it was a more powerful statement of Bush’s evil.”
“Are you belittling Communism?” shouted another protestor angrily. The “Bush is Stalin” protestor was then pummeled by a number of “Bush is Hitler” signs.
“Whoa, I’m staying out of this one,” Ari said, backing up. He then looked to a nearby reporter. “You have any news feed? Have the Democrats fled to Canada yet?”
“Only a few so far.”
Ari sighed and started walking off. “Well, I got a bottle of Jack Daniels at home that isn’t going to drink itself.”