“Honey, you need to take out the trash,” Laura Bush told her husband a bit irately.
“But I’m busy planning this country’s economic future and fighting the war on terror.”
“No you’re not,” Laura answered, “You’re watching an A-Team marathon. Now take out the trash. Oh… and someone left a message for you on the front door.”
“Fine,” Bush said, getting off the couch and turning off the T.V. He got the trash and took it outside and then found there was a message stuck to the front door by a dagger.
“Ooh! A message with a free dagger!” Bush exclaimed excitedly as he took the letter, “The best kind.” The message was some weird symbol written in blood. “I wonder if this is a reminder from the blood bank,” Bush mused aloud as he walked inside.
“Does this mean anything to you, Zatoichi?” Bush asked as he handed the message to the blind samurai.
Ichi felt the writing. “This says you are marked for death by a deadly ninja assassin.”
“Deadly ninja assassin!” Bush exclaimed, “That’s the worst kind of ninja assassin!”
“You are informed so that you may live the last hours of your life in constant fear,” Zatoichi added.
“It’s working!” Bush shouted in a panic, “I am in fear! Oh man, I bet I know why this is happening, too. I should have listened to Karl Rove in Japan when he told me not give a wedgie to the leader of the Yakuza!” Bush grabbed Ichi by the collar. “You gotta tell me what to do, Ichi-san!”
“Three ryo, and I give you advice.”
Bush searched his pocket for gold coins. “Here you go.”
“My advice to you: make sure your will is up to date. Heh heh heh.”
“That’s not good advice!” Bush yelled angrily, “I want my ryo back!”
“No refunds!” Ichi said as he held his cane sword in a threatening manner.
“I really need to have less blind samurai in my administration,” Bush grumbled to himself as he walked off, “You just can’t trust them. Man, and I have this big speech about terrorism to give today, too. I can’t back off from that or it will embolden the terrorists… and the last thing the terrorists need is emboldening. This ninja assassin has to be the worst thing that’s happened to me during this administration since the fourth time I got my tie stuck in the shredder.”
Bush spotted one of his Secret Service. “Agent Smith, I need your help,” Bush pleaded, “I’m targeted by a ninja for assassination so I need extra protection.”
“Sorry; can’t help,” Agent Smith answered, “It’s a holiday today.”
“What holiday?”
“Uh… the ‘Don’t Get Killed by a Ninja Protecting Bush’ holiday.”
“You made that up!”
“Union rules say I can make up holidays,” Agent Smith answered as he went back to reading his paper.
“Stupid unionized Secret Service,” Bush muttered, and then spotted White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan. “Hey, Scott, I need you to do something today.”
“What?”
“I want you to give the speech on terrorism while wearing a cowboy hat just like I would and this sign.”
Scott looked at the sign. It said, “I am President Bush. If you want to assassinate the president, then kill me.”
“Hey!” Scott exclaimed, “Have you been targeted by a deadly ninja assassin and are trying to set me up as a decoy?”
“No!” Bush said innocently, “Why, would you have a problem with that?”
“I’ve already been shot far too many times on your behalf for just being a Press Secretary,” Scott answered, “I’m not going to take a poison ninja throwing star for you.”
“You don’t know for certain they’ll be poisoned,” Bush called to Scott as he walked off. “Guess I have to face this one alone,” Bush said to himself. He approached Laura. “This may be the last time I see you, my dear wife. I have to go give a speech now, and I may not come back alive.”
“Well, if you do come back alive,” Laura answered, “Make sure to pick up some milk along the way.”

“I have to give a speech about terrorism while a ninja is out for my head,” Bush said to himself as he stood near the podium, “Things couldn’t get any worse.”
“I need to talk to you.”
“Crap!” Bush yelled, “It’s Senator Daschle. I don’t have time to listen to your whines, Daschle; I’m trying not to get killed by a ninja.”
“But it’s important that I talk about how saddened I am by… ack… erk…”
Daschle fell to the ground twitching, and Bush noticed a poison dart in his neck. “Oh no!” Bush exclaimed, “President Bush has been assassinated by a ninja! So says I, weasely Democratic Senator Daschle. I guess that ninja can now go back to Japan while I go off to raise taxes and surrender on the war on terror.”
The ninja hopped down from a tree. “You do not fool me, President Bush,” the ninja said, “Now you die!” He drew his sword.
“A ninja sword!” Bush yelled, “Nothing can stop that!” Bush then ran off while the ninja pursued.
Bush was soon stopped by a reporter. “Hi. I’m from the New York Times. I was wondering what you have to say about your colossal failure in Iraq due to your poor planning.”
“I don’t have time to talk about that; a ninja is chasing me!” Bush said and then continued running.
“Ooh, I already have the headline,” the reporter said, scribbling in his notepad, “‘Bush Runs from War Record, Ninja’.”
“Think think think,” Bush said to himself as he continued to flee, “Man, I have a hard enough time coming up with plans when a ninja isn’t chasing me.” He then spotted the ACLU headquarters ahead of him. “Ah ha!” He ran inside, and the ninja quickly came in after, sword held above his head ready to strike. Bush was hiding behind the door, though, and snuck back out. He then whipped out his cell phone.
“Condi, do you have the coordinates of the ACLU headquarters ready for a missile strike?”
“I have it on the cruise missile version of speed dial,” Condoleezza Rice answered.
“Hit it!”
Soon missiles came out of the sky blew up the building, leaving nothing left but rubble. “Ha!” Bush laughed, “Ain’t nothing cruise missiles can’t solve!”
“Aren’t you concerned of collateral damage?” asked a nearby reporter.
“It’s the weekend,” Bush answered, “No one was in there.”
“It’s Tuesday morning,” the reporter corrected him.
“Whatever,” Bush said, “If the ACLU didn’t want to get all blowed up, then… uh… they shouldn’t have been harboring ninjas.”