Part I
Part II
Rumsfeld smashed the reporter’s head into the podium. “That’s your head being smashed against wood,” he said. Rumsfeld then slammed the reporter’s head through a window, breaking the glass. “And that’s your head hitting against glass. Do you feel the difference?”
“Yes,” the reporter said weakly.
“Let’s continue to drive this point home,” Rumsfeld said. He smacked the reporter into the brick wall. “That’s your head against brick.” He grabbed another reporter and slammed both their heads together. “That’s skull against skull. Feel the difference?”
“I don’t feel much of anything anymore.”
Rumsfeld dropped his victim. “Then I think I’m finished making my point. See, while all those things seemed similar in that your head was getting smashed against something, they were different too. In the same way, Iraq is different than Vietnam, but it was an interesting analogy you tried to make. Any other questions?”
“Is it true the president and Tony Blair have been captured by the Belgians and are being put on trial?” asked one reporter.
“Why would I care?” Rumsfeld answered back angrily, “There are lots of people in the Middle East who are alive and shouldn’t be, so I don’t have time to worry about whether Bush or some pansy Brit has been taken prisoner by some idiotic European nation.”
“But isn’t he you boss?” exclaimed the reporter.
“Not so loud,” Rumsfeld warned, “You’ll wake chomps.” Chomps, the world’s angriest dog, lay near the podium, chained to the wall, sleeping the world’s angriest sleep. His legs started moving and his jaws snapped at the air. “Aww, isn’t that cute,” Rumsfeld smiled, “He’s dreaming of mauling someone.”
Suddenly Chomps woke up and leapt to his feet. He then started barking wildly and snapping at the air. “Something making you angry, boy?” Rumsfeld asked, trying to understand.
Chomps eyes stared distantly as he continued to snarl and bark.
“Something far away?” Rumsfeld ask, “You want me to unchain you?”
“No no no!” shouted all of the reporters.
Rumsfeld unhooked Chomps’s chain, and the dog immediately leapt out the nearest window. “I hope you kill whatever made you angry, boy,” Rumsfeld called out as he saw Chomps speed down the street.

President Bush was chained to the wall while the evil Belgian minister of justice kept an eye on him. The savage little badger still had Bush’s cowboy hat and seemed to want nothing more than to tear away at the hapless president.
Further away, Tony Blair dangled in the air by some rope. “The first trial is of Tony Blair,” the evil, bloated Belgazor announced, “If he is convicted of his war crime of making a wide right turn, he shall be dropped into the pit of eternal horror.”
The floor opened from beneath Blair revealing a pit filled with angry, screeching monkeys. “Crikey!” Blair exclaimed.
“We poured eight barrels of monkeys into that pit,” Belgazor laughed, “And we shook the barrels up good first to make sure the monkeys were extra angry.”
“You madman!” Bush yelled, “If I had a baseball bat, I would beat you good! Oh… and if I weren’t chained up, too. If I weren’t chained up and I had a baseball bat, you would be so sorry.”
“But you are chained up, and there are no baseball bats in Belgium,” Belgazor said, “So instead you get to witness the perfection of our justice system. Instead of using biased humans to decide Tony Blair’s fate, we use pigeons to determine justice.” Belgazor pointed to the jury which was a stand full of pigeons. “Before each one is two buttons: one for not guilty and one for guilty. If more hit guilty, then Blair falls into the pit and justice will be dispensed by the angry monkeys. Muh ha ha ha!” He looked to Blair. “You may now plead your case.”
“To the pigeons?”
“Who else?” Belgazor asked angrily.
Blair looked to the many birds who stared right back at him. “Uh… I would like to say I’ve always like birds, and that England is a particularly good place for pigeons. I really didn’t mean to drive unsafely, and, if you find me not guilty, you’re all invited to London where you will be fed many bread crumbs.”
“The jury does not respond well to bribery,” Belgazor warned.
The pigeons started to peck at their buttons, and the tally could be seen on a large screen. The guilties began to grow in number much faster than the not guilties.
“Oh, bugger,” Blair exclaimed.
“Remember to tuck your head in and roll when you hit the ground,” Bush told Blair, “That will help you with the fall. I don’t have any advice, though, about how to not get torn apart by monkeys.”
“That’s quite alright, chap,” Blair said in a depressed voice as he watched the results on screen while Belgazor laughed his evil Belgian laugh.

Buck slowly crept through the fortress. He soon detected a sent. “Waffles,” he uttered ominously.
Soon Belgian troops were all about him, so Buck made a run through the fortress as he fired back, all the while singing the ancient Marine kill’n song:

“Oh, God made fore’ners for a kill’n,
Or so says my dear old pa.
So I then shoot me some fore’ners
And then triumphantly shout, ‘Ooh-rah!’
Yes, fore’ners are for a kill’n
So it’s their blood I’m spill’n.
Once I kill me a million
I’ll shout my last, ‘Ooh-rah!’
If us Marines fire enough bullets,
The world will run out of lead.
Then we’ll have to draw our Ka-bars
And stab them fore’ners dead.
Yes, fore’ners are for a kill’n
So it’s their blood I’m spill’n.
Once I kill me a million
I’ll shout my last, ‘Ooh-rah!'”

Buck slapped another clip into his rifle and looked for any more Belgians to kill. He then ran for what seemed to be the main room of the building. Knocking the door open, he saw Blair suspended in the air, Bush chained to the wall being guarded by a cowboy badger, and the giant Belgazor standing near a wall of pigeons. “Something weird and foreign is going on here,” Buck announced, “and I don’t like it much!”
“Another foolish American!” Belgazor shouted. He then hit a button and the stairs Buck was standing on turned into a slide. He slipped towards the pit of monkeys, but he quickly tossed his rifle aside and drew his Ka-bar, stabbing it into the ground to slow his descent. He ended up stopping right at the edge of the pit, the angry monkeys jumping up and clawing at his boots.
“My boots!” Buck shouted, “I need those for stomping on fore’ners’ necks.”
Belgazor just laughed as both Buck and Blair dangled above their imminent doom. “I guess it’s up to me,” Bush uttered, “So, there is only one thing left to do: a Presidential Power-Up!”
“U.S. Presidents of old hear me now,” Bush shouted into the air, “for I ask of your power! Give me the level-headed cunning of George Washington, the straight moralism of Abraham Lincoln, the mighty strength of Teddy Roosevelt, the alcohol tolerance of Ulysses S. Grant, and the don’t give a s**t attitude of James Polk!”
There was a burst of light that surrounded Bush, and then he tore apart his chains as if they were papier-mâché. “Time for an ass-whup’n… Texas style!” he announced.
“Stop him!” Belgazor screamed.
The minister of justice bared his sharp teeth.
“Uh-oh,” Bush uttered, backing away.
The badger then leapt at him ready to bite, but he disappeared in a blur of black. The cowboy hat now floated down to the ground while Chomps stood by, swallowing the badger in a big gulp.
“Chomps!” Bush exclaimed, “You saved me! And to think I had just signed an executive order to have you put down.”
“I’ll have just stop you myself!” the giant Belgazor yelled, approaching Bush.
Chomps growled. “This one’s mine,” Bush told the dog, “You go help Buck and gay Tony.” Chomps ran off and while Bush bent down and picked up his hat. He firmly fixed it on his head and yelled, “You’re going down, Belgazor!”
Belgazor just growled and charged Bush who fought back with a series of kicks and punches, sending Belgazor to the ground with a mighty crash. “You made the big mistake of messing with someone who has seen every episode of Walker: Texas Ranger,” Bush laughed.
Chomps grabbed Buck with his mighty jaw and helped him out of the pit. The tally board was just about to reach the point at which Blair would be declared guilty, so Chomps braced Buck as he leaned over, just barely being able to catch Blair as he was dropped towards the pit. “Ooh-rah!”
“I will destroy you all!” Belgazor shouted as he got back to his feet. He then charged Bush again, but this time Bush flipped over Belgazor who couldn’t stop himself before he ended up plunging into the pit of eternal horror. His last scream of anger was drowned out by the screeching of monkeys.
The building then started shaking. “It must have been Belgazor’s evil power that kept this fortress afloat,” Blair stated.
“So we done here?” Buck asked as he picked back up his M-16.
“No, kill those pigeons,” Bush said, “They’re part of this!”
Buck launched a grenade into the jury stand which disappeared into a mixture of fire and feathers.
“Now we better get out of here before it’s too late,” Blair said nervously.
“What’s wrong with your voice?” Buck asked.
“He’s just gay,” Bush explained.
“I’m not gay!” Blair responded, “I’m British.”
“British sounds foreign,” Buck said, eying Blair suspiciously.
Blair took one good look at the intimidating Buck. “On second though… yes, I’m gay. Very, very gay.”
Buck thought this over for a second. “Well, then may Jesus’ love lead you to the right path. Now let’s get out of here.”
“The exit was that way,” Blair said, pointing at a wall, “I took a good look at a map of this place, so all we need to do is head down the opposite hallway, take a right, take a left…”
Buck launched a grenade at the wall, blowing it apart and giving them an exit outside.
“And that works, too,” Blair said sheepishly.
They all fled outside where a helicopter came to meet them. Standing at the doorway was Clancy. “Glad to see you all.”
“Wow, SpongeBob!” Bush exclaimed, “Great tie!”
“Thanks, it was a father’s day gift from my son.”
“All my daughters gave me was a card,” Bush complained, “I didn’t even get the joke in it. Least they could have done was put a twenty dollar bill in there or something.”
“May I remind you that the ground is crumbling beneath us?” Blair said impatiently.
“Oh yeah!” Bush exclaimed as they all rushed into the helicopter, it rising into the air as the evil Belgian fortress plummeted to the ground. They all settled into a seat and breathed sighs of relief, except for Chomps, who eyed each of the individual seats until he found one that particularly enraged him. He then began to savagely tear it apart.
Bush looked back at Belgium. “Get me a line to the… uh… big military place.”
“The Pentagon?” Clancy asked.
“Yeah, that place.” Bush was given the phone. “This is the president! …yeah, the one of the United States. Nuke Belgium! Nuke it to hell!”
Bush looked out the window, waiting for a big explosion where the crumbled fortress lay, but instead he saw one far off in the distance. “I think you missed it,” Bush said into the phone, “No, I don’t know what country you nuked, but you better find out who and send them a fruit basket. Belgium is more to the right… no, my right… yeah, I guess you don’t know what my right is.” Bush looked to Clancy. “Which direction are we flying?”
“Southeast.”
“So… if we are going southeast,” Bush thought out loud, “Then the explosion was to the… uh… and Belgium was to its… uh…” Bush picked up the phone again. “Forget nuking Belgium. It’s too hard.”
“Well, that was quite an experience,” Blair exclaimed.
“You can say that again,” Bush responded, “This has to be my biggest misadventure since the time I got my head stuck in the banister. I did learn a lesson, though: it’s insane for any one country – other than the U.S. – to try and have jurisdiction over the entire world.”
“I learned that one should turn into the nearest lane and the properly signal before going into a further lane or you may be kidnapped by Belgians,” Blair said.
“I learned something too,” Clancy added, “but it’s classified.”
“And I learned that I like kill’n fore’ners,” Buck said with a wide smile. He then thought for a moment. “Wait; I already knew that. Guess I didn’t learn anything. Ooh-rah!”
THE END