Part I
“I just want assure everyone that the Belgians have not captured the president,” White House Press Secretary announced.
“My question was about the tax cuts,” said the befuddled reporter.
“Whatever.” Ari took a big drink from his flask of whiskey. “Oh, and if anyone is mountain climbing and happens to see the vice president, please give us a call.”
“You lost the vice president on some mountain top?” exclaimed one reporter.
“I did not say that,” Ari answered, “Why do you people always have to read into everything I say?” Ari took another big drink of whiskey. “God, how many more days do I have to do this.”

The flying fortress of Belgium loomed in the distance as the helicopter continued its approach. “That’s where the foreigners that need a kill’n are, right?” Buck the Marine asked.
“That’s what are intelligence says,” Clancy answered. He was in his usual black suit with black sunglasses, but was wearing a SpongeBob SquarePants tie.
“What happened to your black tie?” Buck asked.
“Oh… uh… this was a gift from my eight year old for Father’s Day. The wife said I had to wear it at least once.”
Buck sharpened his Ka-Bar. “So what do we know about the Belgians?”
“Unfortunately, we seemed to have misfiled our data about Belgium,” Clancy said, “Or, at least, it wasn’t under ‘B’. Luckily, my six-year-old niece had to write a short report on a country, and she was given Belgium. Here is what it says:

Belgium is in Europe. Their money is called the Belgian Franc. They export machinery and chemicals. They speak Dutch and French. I like waffles.”

“How sure are you of the accuracy of that report,” Buck asked as he checked his extra magazines.
“It got a B-. We also used an advanced search tool to gleam information about Belgium from the internet.”
“Google?” Buck inquired.
“Uh… I can’t divulge my sources. Anyway, here is what we learned, most of it taken from blogs: The Belgians suck. The Belgians are possibly radioactive so don’t touch them. Everyone hates the Belgians. The Belgians have super-strength and can fly. The Belgians are totally gay.
I remind you, that, with anything found off the internet, there is a 12% chance of it being true. What we have determined for certain, though, is the Belgians, so consumed about their irrelevance, have become wraith like beings unable to be harmed by normal weapons. Perhaps, though, closer to their own land they’ll have more relevance and can be harmed.”
“Don’t worry,” Buck assured him, “If there is one thing I know how to figure out how to do, its kill foreigners.”
“I think the acting president Dick Cheney would like to have some words with you,” Clancy said as he turned on a monitor.
“I am very cold!” Cheney exclaimed, “Someone please come and get me. I can’t hold out much longer. I think I hear something rattling around in my boot and I’m afraid it’s my toe.”
“Don’t worry, acting president Cheney,” Buck said, “The Belgians will pay for their crime.”
“Are you even listening to me? Please, just…”
Clancy switched the monitor so that now Laura Bush was on screen. “The First Lady also wanted to talk to you.”
“Please bring my husband back home,” she pleaded.
“I will not let you down, ma’am.”
“And, when you find him, ask him where the heated blanket is. I know he was the last one to have it, and I can’t find it now.”
“I will do that. Stay strong.”
Clancy shut off the monitor. They were almost to the evil flying fortress of the Belgians. “It’s time to get ready. All the American people – except for the most partisan Democrats – are counting on you, Buck.”
“If it involves killing foreigners, let them know that I always succeed.” Buck then chambered a round into his M-16 and prepared to disembark.

“Almost got a brick out of the wall,” Bush whispered as he pried at the wall with his waffle knife.
“You know the guards are watching you,” Tony Blair whispered back.
“That’s why I’m trying to be inconspicuous,” Bush said as he frantically pried at the wall. “Why don’t you tap dance to distract them.”
“Tap dance?”
“Just do it!”
Blair started tap dancing. “Stop that dancing!” ordered one of the guards.
“No, I’m British and I need to dance!” Blair answered defiantly.
“Got the brick out,” Bush whispered.
“I’ll stop dancing now,” Blair announced.
Bush curled up on the floor and started moaning. “Oh, I’m sick… much to sick to bash you two guards in the head if you came in this cell.”
“We better help him,” one guard said to the other. They opened the cell and entered.
“I’ll bash your heads good!” Bush yelled as he jumped to his feet and knocked the two guards unconscious with his brick.
“Wow!” Blair exclaimed, “The Belgians are even dumber than you.”
“Yeah, they’re stupid,” Bush laughed. “Uh… now what do I do?”
“You unlock my cell and we get out of here.”
Bush got the keys and let Blair out. “So, do you have any military experience?”
“Not really,” Blair said, “What about you?”
“I flew some planes,” Bush said, “Do you see any jet fighters around?”
“No, not in this cell block,” Blair answered, “Why don’t we look for a means to escape.”
“First, I have to get my cowboy hat back,” Bush declared.
“It’s just a hat!” Blair exclaimed.
“Being, gay, you probably wouldn’t understand,” Bush said, “but a Texan can’t leave his hat behind.”
“I’m not gay; I’m British.”
“Well, whatever you want to call it; I don’t mean to offend. I’m a uniter not a divider.”
They then sneaked through the fortress until they came to the hall of the minister of justice. Inside were numerous guards and a badger wearing a cowboy hat.
“Their minister of justice is a badger!” Blair exclaimed, “The Belgians are completely insane!”
“And he’s got my hat!” Bush said angrily. “We need to distract the guards.”
“But how?”
Bush pushed Tony Blair into the room. “Look, it’s Tony Blair and he’s trying to escape!” Bush yelled.
“Oh, bugger!” Blair exclaimed before running off with the guards in pursuit as Bush hid behind a wall.
“Now to get my hat,” Bush said as he approached the badger. “You give me my hat back, you stinky varmint!”
The badger leapt at Bush’s leg, biting it.
“Ow! It hurts! Get him off!”
Bush then heard the evil laughter of Belgazor. “So you thought you could escape the arbitrary justice of the Belgians?”
“Well, yeah,” Bush admitted, “Until the badger bit me.”
“Guess what,” Belgazor said with a smile, “You’re just in time for your trial. Muh ha ha ha!”
Bush looked confused. “I don’t get that joke.”
“It’s not a joke! It’s evil laughter!” Belgazor explained with frustration.
“Oh,” Bush answered with faux-understanding before the minister of justice went for his groin.
TO BE CONCLUDED…

“There’s nothing better than a game of golf, is there, Agent Smith?”
“I wouldn’t know, President Bush,” Secret Service Agent Smith answered, “I’ve never played. I just stand here in the sun and watch you. Rather asinine, if you ask me.”
“Yep, nothing better than a good game of golf,” Bush said as he adjusted his cowboy hat, and then prepared for a swing.
“President Bush!” yelled out a voice.
Startled, Bush screwed up his swing, sending his ball into the brush. “Grrr!” Bush yelled, “Agent Smith, whoever just messed up my shot I want you to inject him in the neck with that stuff that makes it look like he had a heart attack.”
“That stuff ain’t cheap, sir,” Agent Smith reminded him.
“It was I who called out your name,” said a sinister figure, “Chief Floopergibble of the Belgian international police force.” More men in black uniforms emerged from the brush. “I, under the authority of Belgium, am placing you under arrest for lying about WMD’s and having an illegal war with Iraq.”
“Well, I guess we’ll have to go peacefully,” Bush said, dropping his golf club, “Wouldn’t make much sense to – KILL THEM!” Bush drew his peacemaker while Agent Smith drew his Beretta and they both started firing at the Belgians.
Nothing happened.
“What’s the matter?” Bush asked desperately.
“Apparently they’re too irrelevant,” Agent Smith answered, “Our bullets are going right through them in search of more substantive targets.”
“Dammit! Always when I’m finally making par.”
The Belgians closed in on them while laughing their evil Belginian laugh.

“The president has been captured by Belgians,” Agent Smith announced.
“What!” Condoleezza Rice exclaimed, “You lose him two more times and you get a demerit!”
“Good,” Rumsfeld said, “I think things will run smoother without him. Now let’s there are a lot of terrorists out there who aren’t getting any less terroristy…”
“We need to rescue the president,” Rice insisted. She turned on the satellite connection to Dick Cheney. “The president has been captured by Belgians,” Rice told him, “I think that means you’re in charge.”
“Good,” Cheney answered, shivering, “Then I order all resources to be used to find me. I’m on some mountain top and found shelter in a cave.”
“Do you know which mountain?”
“No. But find me quickly,” Cheney said desperately, “I think I saw a snowman. I didn’t get a good enough look, but he may have been abominable. And I’m running out of ammo for my .357. So forget about the president and find me. I want…”
Chomps knocked the TV set down and tore it apart with his teeth. “He never liked Cheney,” Rumsfeld commented.
“He never likes anyone,” Rice said.
“If you want my opinion,” Rumsfeld said, “and you’ll be getting it whether you do or not – this is all some plot from the Belgians to get nuked. And, frankly, I think their plan is going to work.” He looked to the map on the wall. “So where are the?.”
“That’s the problem,” Rice said, “Belgium is so irrelevantly, that mapmakers stopped including it long ago.”
Chomps jumped up and grabbed the map and then tore it to pieces. “Yeah, destroy that useless map,” Rumsfeld laughed.
“I have some intelligence that may help,” Clancy told Rice. “We set up a number of surveillance devices on the Belgian embassy. At first, we thought they were speaking in some code language. Ended up, we were actually spying on the Swedes. That’s when we went to plan B. We spotted a Belgian diplomat visiting the U.N., and then had one of our agents kick him the nuts, grab his briefcase, and run away. A simple but effective method.” Clancy set a briefcase down on the table. “According to the documents inside, Bush is being held in the flying fortress of the tyrannical ruler of Belgium, Belgazor. They plan to put him on trial believing they have the authority to bring charges against anyone in the world.”
“Those arrogant bastards!” Rumsfeld shouted, “Only America has that authority. We must kill them all!”
Chomps barked in approval and then tore out a section of a nearby wall.
“We’ll need to send someone in to rescue the president,” Rice said.
“I know who,” Rumsfeld repliedd, picking up a phone. “Buck, do you want to kill some Belgians?”
There was a contemplative pause on the other end. “Sure,” Buck the Marine finally answered, “They sound pretty foreign.”

“Captured by Belgians,” Bush grumbled to himself, “This is almost as bad as when Carter was attacked by a rabbit.”
“Things could be worse, chap,” said a familiar voice, “At least we have plenty of chocolate and waffles to eat.”
Bush looked to the other cell. “It’s my gay friend Tony!” he exclaimed.
“Nice to see you, too,” Tony Blair answered.
“So what did they arrest you for?”
“Said that I made a wide right turn,” Blair answered, “So they kidnapped me and took me here.”
“Should have been more careful driving,” said an ominous voice. There stood Belgazor, the evil, bloated ruler of Belgium, a giant crown upon his head. “Now we will dispense justice upon you.”
Bush noticed that Belgazor had his cowboy hat in hand. “You give me my hat back or I’ll murder you dead!” Bush yelled as he tried to reach for Belgazor’s throat through the bars.
“I’d worry more about your trial,” Belgazor said, “First comes Tony Blair’s trial for his reckless driving, then you for your illegal war, then me for my kidnapping of foreign leaders, and then all Israelis for the high crime of being Jews where they’re not wanted. Muh ha ha ha!”
“We won’t stand for this!” Bush shouted.
“I’m going to make sure we throw the book at you, President Bush,” Belgazor said, “You’ll be sentenced to a $150 dollar fine plus time served. Muh ha ha ha!”
“You monster!”
“And, as for you Tony Blair, we don’t look kindly on unsafe driving,” Belgazor said, “So you will be thrown into the pit of eternal horror. Muh ha ha ha!”
Belgazor then walked off, continuing to laugh his evil Belgian laugh.
“Well, chap, ‘pit of eternal horror’ doesn’t sound very good, does it?” Blair said nervously.
“It’s not like I can’t afford $150,” Bush said, thinking aloud, “but it’s the principle of the thing.”
“Um, could we worry about this pit thing?” Blair asked, “What do you think it is?”
“Probably some pit with horror in it,” Bush answered, “Horror that’s eternal. But don’t worry, Tony, I’ll think of something to get us out of here.”
“That’s very good and all,” Blair answered, “but you aren’t really known for ‘thinking’.”
Bush didn’t hear him as he was deep in thought. “If only I had a gun, a blow torch, and weren’t in Belgium…”
TO BE CONTINUED…