Part I
“Buck the Marine here. Can anyone hear me?”
“I hear ya, Buck. This is the president of the United States, George Dubya, but, as long as we’re using the radio, refer to me by my CB handle: Porn Star.”
“Okay, Porn Star. I have set up base camp in Lintuvia.”
“Did you experience much resistance?”
“Well, when I first arrived, the Lintuvians said, ‘What are you doing here, foreigner.’ And then I said, ‘I’m not a foreigner. You’re the foreigners, foreigners.’ You get that? The stupid foreigners didn’t even know they were foreign. Anyway, they’re dead now.”
“Good job, Buck. Be careful of those Lintuvians; they’re extremists.”
“Religious extremists?”
“Maybe, I’m not really sure. They may actually be extremists against people with religion, or maybe they just like extreme sports. But we are certain they are extremists and you need to be careful.”
“I can tell you they ain’t Christian extremists; Christians shoot straighter.”
“So what is your condition right now?”
“Well, I set down to make base camp, so I opened my cooler I brought and took out a good ‘ole American beer. Then snipers started shooting at me, so I then I shot back at them, rifle in my right hand while I continued to drink the beer in my left hand. Then I remembered I had to radio you guys, which meant I had to put down either the rifle or the beer. I think I made the right choice.” Buck paused to take a sip of beer.
“Sounds like you got a handle on things. Soon people will be there to implement Black Project Insano. Whatever you do, do not look at what they have, as you do not have the proper clearance.”
“To clarify, Porn Star, what am I supposed to not be looking at?”
“Uh… I’m not really sure. But, if you see something that you think you shouldn’t be seeing, stop seeing. Is that clear?”
Buck took another sip of beer.
“Good luck, Buck. We’re counting on you. Porn Star is over and out.”
A sniper shot hit near Buck, so he put down the radio and picked back up his M-16 and fired back while finishing off his beer. That seemed to be the last of them; no more foreigners left to shoot. Suddenly Buck noticed a number of men in black suits and sunglasses approaching him.
“Are you foreigners?” Buck asked suspiciously.
“That’s classified,” answered one of the men.
“Hey, that thing you guys are carrying has some rust on it,” Buck pointed out.
“He’s seen too much!” one of the men said to another.
“What I do now?” Buck asked, confused.
“Put him the target radius,” one of the men in black said as they operated the device.
“Hey, that don’t sound like a good thing…” Buck started to say, but then saw a bright light followed by nothingness.

“Wow, I’ve never seen this room before!” Bush exclaimed as he explored the underground war room. “What do these buttons do,” he asked as he reached for a control panel.
Condoleezza Rice slapped his hand. “That’s why I haven’t let you down here. Now go sit at the conference table.”
“Hey, I’m the president,” Bush said meekly, “I tell you what to do…”
“QUIET!” Rice screamed.
Bush took a seat at the conference table along with Donald Rumsfeld, Colin Powell, and Ari Fleischer who was busy playing at a computer in front of him. “They let you down here, Colin?” Bush asked with surprise.
“He knows how to behave,” Rice said.
“As long as I don’t speak, they don’t hurt me,” Powell explained.
“I’ll strangle you for speaking!” Rumsfeld shouted.
“There is no time for strangling,” Rice said, sitting at the head of the table, “It is time to discuss Black Project Insano.”
“First off though,” Bush interrupted, “Who is that mysterious looking guy standing in the shadows smoking a cigarette?”
“Ignore him,” Condoleezza answered.
“But he’s creeping me out.”
“Then he is doing is job,” Rice said irately, “As I was saying, more details of Black Project Insano are becoming known. Bush, remember when the aliens visited at the beginning of your term?”
“Sure do. The decided that since we no longer had a lecherous hillbilly as our leader, we were now ready to meet with them. They said they would share technology that would end disease, famine, and ketchup stains. Then Rumsfeld strangled them all because they looked funny.”
“And I’d do it again,” Rumsfeld vowed.
“Well, the secret hidden government within the U.S. government took possession of the alien technology,” Rice explained, “And then began reverse engineering it to see if it could be used for evil instead of good. Thus was born Black Project Insano, and we finally have seen its results in Lintuvia.”
On a giant screen appeared an image of the island country of Lintuvia. A bright light was seen, and then most of the country disappeared.
“What happened?” Bush asked.
“Apparently we ripped apart the very fabric of time and space itself,” Rice said with glee, “and transported the Lintuvians into an alternate dimension!”
“What about Buck?” Rumsfeld asked.
“He saw too much, and was transported as well,” Rice said dismissively.
“But he was my favorite drinking buddy!”
“You fool!” Rice exclaimed, “Do you not realize how much more important this is than one silly Marine? We now control the fabric of the universe. We’ll be able to instantly transport anywhere in the world for a surprise attack, and escape just as easily. We can also disappear entire cities, such as transporting the entire population of Paris into an alternate dimension where they will be eaten by the Velociwargs and the Jangowizers.”
“What’s a Velociwarg and a Jangowizer?” Bush asked.
“Those are the names I will give to the first two creatures that eat French people,” Rice answered. “Now, not only will we be able to conquer this world, but we’ll be able to travel to other worlds as well, conquering and uniting an uncountable number of planets into one nation ruled by one person alone.” Rice rose to her feet. “Empress Condoleezza! All shall love me and despair!” She then paused for a second. “I mean, all worlds will be united under the protection of the U.S.A.,” she said meekly, sitting back down.
“I have just one question,” Bush said, eyeing Rice with suspicion, “What about back in the fifties when everyone smoked? How would you be a mysterious guy who stood in the shadows? Would you not smoke a cigarette and be known as the ‘Non-Smoking Man’?”
Rice shook her head with exasperation. “Why did I even involve you with this? This is all-important, highly classified material that must never leave this room. If even…”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Laura Bush said, walking into the war room, “but I need to get the laundry.”
“How did you get in here?” Rice demanded angrily, “You’re not allowed through security!”
“Poppycock,” Laura answered, “I always come down here to do the laundry.” She opened a machine at the other end of the room and started pulling out pieces of clothing.
“Those aren’t washing machines, you fool!” Rice screamed, “Those are matter destabilizers!”
“And they sure get the stains out,” Laura commented.
“That’s it!” Rice exclaimed, “Cyborg ninja monkey zombies, stop her! Yes… that’s right, go towards her… now KILL! KILL! No… no… DON’T HELP HER FOLD!”
“I never heard anything about cyborg ninja monkey zombies,” Bush said.
“It was a line item in the last budget I gave you,” Rice said innocently.
“I’ve got my laundry, so I’m heading out,” Laura announced, “The cookies I’m baking should be done soon; who wants some?”
“I do!” said the Cigarette Smoking Man.
“You’re not supposed to talk!” Rice exclaimed, “You’re supposed to be mysterious!”
“But I want a cookie.”
“Fools!” Rice screamed, “I’m surround by fools!”
“I know who is not getting a cookie,” Laura said, giving a sharp glance to Rice before leaving the war room.
“This is so much crap,” Rumsfeld finally commented, “All this interdimensional gobbledygook and whatnot is a fools game. Give me a good old fashioned war with shooting and stabbing.”
“I wholeheartedly agree,” Powell commented.
“You’re not supposed to speak!” Rumsfeld shouted, “Rarr!”
Rice finally noticed Ari working busily at a computer. “What are you doing?”
“I always get bored by meetings,” Ari said, “So I decided to play some space invaders.”
“That’s not a videogame!” Rice shouted. She then looked at his screen. “You’ve destroyed most of Luxemburg!”
“So?”
“So you have to go talk to the press and explain this,” Rice told him.
“Yeah, stupid,” Bush chided him.
“Whatever,” Ari answered.
“And make sure they know nothing about our plotting!” Rice commanded him.
“Okey-dokey,” Ari said as he left the room.
“Oh man; I’m outta smokes!” the Cigarette Smoking Man exclaimed, “Can I bum one off someone?”

“I see they let you wear clothes today,” said the CNN reporter snidely.
“The producers and I came to an understanding,” the Fox News reporter answered, fixing her blouse.
“If that skirt were any shorter, it would just be a frilly belt,” the CNN reporter laughed.
“Oh, that’s witty; you should share that with your viewer,” the Fox News reporter shot back.
“People, can I have your attention,” Ari Fleischer announced, “As you know, I am going to be leaving my post as White House Press Secretary soon, so I have two people here who will be trying out as my replacement.”
“Yes, according to your press release, one had his former job as guard of a junkyard and has been diagnosed with a severe anti-social personality disorder,” pointed out one reporter.
“Yes,” Ari answered, “You’re referring to Chomps, rated by the Guinness Book of World Records as the world’s angriest dog.”
The rottweiler Chomps simmered in its irrational fury, looking ready to explode at any moment into an orgy of violence.
“And you describe the other candidate as quote ‘A fat load of s**t who makes sham documentaries and, as hard as it is to believe, is actually uglier on the inside than on the outside.”
“You’re talking about Michael Moore,” Ari said, pointing to Michael Moore himself who stood near Chomps.
“And I’m going to tell the truth about the fiction that is the Bush administration,” Moore blurted, “I’m going to… AHH!!! GET HIM OFF ME!!!”
Chomps attacked Michael Moore as if the devil himself was in him.
“AHH! THE PAIN!!!”
“Well, it’s going to take Chomps a while to chew through that many layers of fat, so let’s go on to questions,” Ari said in a bored tone.
“OH!!! WHY WON’T HE STOP!!!”
“Did you just set this up so that Michael Moore could be attacked by the world’s angriest dog?” asked a reporter suspiciously.
“Please stick to policy questions.”
“I think… he stopped… AHH!!! HE GOT HIS SECOND WIND!!!”
“Michael Moore, what do you say to people who feel you deserve to be chewed on by the world’s angriest dog?” the Fox News reporter asked Moore.
“PLEASE!!! SOMEONE HELP ME!!! DON’T JUST STAND THERE FILMING THIS!!!”
“Hey, questions go over here,” Ari said angrily.
“Do you have any explanation for the sudden cruise missile attack on Luxemburg?”
“No. Not really.”
The reporter thought about that for a moment. “Thank you for your candidness.”
“What do you say to reports that you’ve sent a Marine to the small island country of Lintuvia in preparation for an experimental use of alien technology?”
Ari laughed unconvincingly for nearly a minute straight. “That… that is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. Who, by the way, told you such a crazy thing, because I would like to meet that person and say, ‘Hey, you’re one silly person.'”
“Well, I can’t reveal my sources,” the reporter answered.
“Even at threat of death?”
Two large men in black suits approached the reporter from both side. “Well… uh…”
Suddenly there was a blinding flash of light. When it faded away, there was a ghostly image of a demonic face floating above Ari. “I am Lipitor!,” it said in an earth-shaking voice, “Tyrant king of the multi-verse! You have disturbed my dimension, and now you will all pay dearly. I will destroy your world, and make you all my slaves! There is nothing you can do to stop me! Muh ha ha ha ha!” The image then faded away.
“Dammit,” Ari sighed, “You just know that right before I retire there is going to be an inter-dimensional incident.”
“Will this conflict with Lipitor distract from Bush’s war on terror?” asked one reporter.
“Has France the technology to appease evil dictators in alternate dimensions?” inquired another.
“Why haven’t we collapsed threatening dimensions into a singularity?” demanded the Fox News reporter, “Is it because we lack the technology, or is it because the Bush administration is a bunch of momma’s boys?”
“Where are my pills?” asked Helen Thomas.
“Everyone let’s calm down for a second,” Ari told them, “before we get on to answering more questions, let’s first have a break for refreshments. Right now, a couple of men are handing out a cherry flavored beverages that may or may not erase your memories.”
“Can I have one to forget this pain?” Moore asked meekly. “AHH! HOW LONG CAN HE KEEP BITING MY GROIN!!!”
“No, you can’t have any,” Ari answered.
“Mine has more of a raspberry taste,” said one reporter.
“Just drink it!”

“This is Buck the Marine,” Buck said into his voice recorder, “That date is… Tuesday? I think Tuesday. The time is…” He looked at his wrist. “I cannot tell the time from the hairs on the back of my hand. Apparently I forgot my watch. Anyway, I have found myself on an alien landscape.” He looked about him at the purple sky and yellow, rocky ground. Ominous mountains loomed in the distance, and strange creatures flew overhead. “Note to self: no longer accept missions where the objective is more complicated than ‘Kill the foreign people.'”
“So what are rules for engagement on an alien land,” Buck thought to himself as he put away his voice recorder. He then took out his USMC Rules of Engagement Manual. “‘Rule one’,” he read aloud, “‘Kill foreigners.’ Hmm… I already knew that one. What about aliens.” He flipped through the small manual. “Here we go: ‘When on an alien world, be extra careful. You cannot know how creatures may react, so it is best to try and avoid them. Only attack a creature if it appears it is about to attack you or if it is just really really freaky looking.'”
Buck looked around. Overhead flew a creature resembling a manta ray. “That’s not attacking me,” he mused aloud, “and it’s only somewhat freaky looking, so I’ll let it live.”
A large lizard like creature charged Buck, mouth agape of sharp teeth. “Now that’s just mildly freaking looking, but it appears to be attacking me… so it dies.” Buck fired his M-16 at it, dropping it dead.
Near him he saw a giant animal, it’s body like that of a brontosaurus, but it’s head like that of toucan. “Now that is pretty damn freaky looking, but honestly not really really freaking looking, so I’ll let it live.”
Below him he saw a bug with three heads, each one with snapping pinchers. It also had bat like wing and the tail of a mouse. “Now, that is not attacking me, but it is really really freaking looking.” He crushed it with his rifle butt. “Now it’s dead. Ooh-rah!”
“Greeting, outworlder,” said some voice from behind Buck.
He turned to see three humanoid aliens, each with pale skin and large black eyes. “Greetings, alien creatures,” Buck responded, “I am Buck the Marine from the planet America. I come in peace, but, as you see, I am well armed in case non-peace breaks out. In summary, I will talk to you, but, if you make any sudden movements, I’ll kill you all.”
“We understand your terms, outworlder,” answered one of the aliens, “We have come to warn you of a threat to your world.”
“A threat to my world!” Buck exclaimed, “That’s bad!”
“Yes it is,” the alien continued, “The evil tyrant Lipitor wishes to destroy your world and put you all in slavery. It is up to you to stop him.”
“Just tell ‘ole Buck what to do.”
“You must travel the trail of despair to Lipitor’s citadel which rest on the edges of many dimensions. Inside you will find his transdimensional oscillator, and through it’s deactivation will Lipitor become vulnerable to the plasmic discharges within his inner sanctum. When he is weakened, then you can destroy his stronghold by overloading its stabilizers with positronic energy. Finally, you must then escape to your dimension through a dimensional portal of your proper dimensional frequency.”
Buck considered this for a moment and then took a sip of beer. “Why don’t you break that down into pointing me in which direction I should walk and describing what thing I’m supposed to kill.”
“You must head that way,” one of the aliens said, pointing to a dark fortress in the distance, “Your enemy, Lipitor, is a transdimensional being, both massive and small, both there and not there. He is known by his presence, which disturbs the air with a…”
“On second thought,” Buck interrupted, “Why don’t you just draw me a picture.”
TO BE CONCLUDED ON WEDNESDAY…
Same danger time… Same danger channel…