“Rarr! I’ll kill you!” Rumsfeld yelled as his fingers reached for Jacques Chirac’s neck. They came a few inches short.
“See, the chain is just as long as we agreed in the negotiations to setup this meeting,” Bush assured the Frenchman. “He’ll just be able to threaten you; not kill you.”
“I won’t be chained up for ever!” Rumsfeld growled, “Then your neck is mine!”
“You never said the dog suspended above me would be so angry,” Chirac protested, looking very scared at the dog hanging above him who was doing his best to try and bite Chirac.
“We did say the ‘Rottweiler of Damocles’ who would represent what’s it’s like to have the threat of terrorism hanging over your head would be angry,” Bush told him.
“But not the angriest dog in the world.”
“You never said he couldn’t be,” Bush retorted.
Chomps snarled and snapped his jaws in the air just above Chirac’s head.
“Why do I have to sit at a highchair?” Gerhard Schroeder demanded.
“The negotiations said we get to choose the seating,” Bush answered.
“But I don’t want to sit in a highchair!” Schroeder cried, banging his highchair, “And negotiations said I get a sippy cup! Where’s my sippy cup!”
“Condi, get him his sippy cup,” Bush said with annoyance. Condoleezza Rice handed the cup to Schroeder who snatched it greedily and began drinking his apple juice.
“I don’t think we’re going to get anywhere with these absurd demands you put on these discussions,” Kofi Anan said, “If we are going to…”
He was interrupted as his head was grabbed by Bush and slammed into the table.
“Please stop doing that,” Kofi said, holding his aching head.
“Negotiations said I can do that up to eighteen times during the meeting,” Bush asserted, “So expect fifteen more of those.”
“But you already did it five times.”
“Three times,” Bush responded, “If you don’t believe me, ask the independent ref.”
“Three times,” said the independent ref.
“The independent ref looks a lot like Dick Cheney in disguise,” Kofi said.
“According to negotiations, we are allowed to bring Cheney disguised as someone.”
“Why did you have to bring Rumsfeld, though?” Kofi asked, “All he does is try to strangle everyone.”
“Rarr! I’ll strangle you for saying that!” Rumsfeld shouted, reaching for Kofi’s neck but coming just short.
“Rumsfeld knows a lot about the war,” Bush explained, “and his opinion on who needs a strangling is helpful.”
“I think we should just beat the crap out of all these people,” said a man with a guitar wearing a cowboy hat.
“And who is he, again?” Chirac asked.
“We negotiated that we would be able to bring a country western singer to this meeting,” Bush said.
“I thought it was going to be one of the Dixie Chicks,” Chirac grumbled.
“I have the beginnings of a song,” the country western singer said and then began playing his guitar.

“I don’t like these people at the U.N.
In fact, they really suck.
If I see them on the street outside,
I’ll hit them with my pickup truck.
Yee-hah!”

Bush and Condi applauded. “That was great,” Bush said, “Now let’s get to business.”
“We have some terms…” Kofi began to say, but found his face meeting hardwood again.
“That’s three times,” said the independent ref.
“Actually, I have some terms,” Bush stated, “If you people of the U.N. don’t want to be completely irrelevant and allowed to help the U.S. in Iraq, you’ll need to each write a thousand word essay on why America is so great and read it publicly. It must then be followed by a song and dance number.”
“That’s absurd!” Chirac shouted, jumping to his feet and thus putting his head right into Chomps’s mouth.
“Uh oh!” Bush yelled, “Chomps is swallowing Chirac whole! We have to stop him… eventually.”
“Rarr!” Rumsfeld shouted, leaping at Kofi. This time he lassoed Kofi’s neck with his shoelaces and began strangling him.
“That wily Rumsfeld,” Condi remarked.
“Whaa! My sippy cup!” Schroeder cried as the country western singer took his cup away. He then punched Schroeder, shutting him up.
“Damn!” Bush exclaimed, “This U.N. meeting is going about as poorly as… well… as I expected. Condi, so let’s just go across the street and get a burger.”
“I don’t think there’s a burger place across the street,” Condi said.
“If we walk around, we’ll find one eventually,” Bush remarked as he left the room.