Part 1
Part 2
“What’s going on in here?” White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan demanded as he watched the ruckus in the White House.
“Kegger party,” Dick Cheney answered, “What’s it look like, dingus?”
“Is this appropriate while the president is in danger?” Scott asked.
“Who invited the dweeb?” inquired an obviously drunk Donald Rumsfeld.
“Not me,” answered Condi as she threw back a jello shot. “Skippy, don’t you have some idiotic questions to answers from the press?”
“I think we all have jobs to do such as…” Scott started to say, but was interrupted by a thrown beer bottle.

“Ninjas can’t dodge buckshot, can they?” Bush asked as he inspected his shotgun by looking down the barrel.
“So say the ancient texts,” Zatoichi answered.
“How could you know?” Bush chuckled, “You couldn’t have read them, Blindy.”
In the blink of an eye, Ichi’s sword was drawn and resheathed. Then Bush’s tie fell off.
“Man, my tie budget has doubled since hiring you,” Bush complained.
“Shouldn’t we call an entire force to take out the robot ninjas?” Buck the Marine asked.
“The press will call me a wimp if I can’t handle a bunch of robot ninjas by myself,” Bush answered, “except for the help of one Marine… and a blind samurai… Oh! And a robot fueled by the soul of a dead general.”
“All must die,” Robo-Patton said in his deep, heavily synthesized voice.
“That’s the spirit!” Bush exclaimed.
“We are near the ninja hideout,” Ichi said, “I feel much ninja-ness about.”
“Sometimes I wonder if you’re just full of it, Ichi,” Bush stated irately.
“Ha ha! You would never know,” Ichi chuckled.
“I bet they’re in that foreboding building ahead,” Buck said.
“Let’s kill the sonafabitches!” Robo-Patton yelled as he charged forward.
“You’re the strategerist,” Bush said following.
The four of them entered the building, but didn’t see anything. Suddenly, bright lights went on blinding nearly everyone except Ichi. “Is it the ninjas?” Buck asked.
“Worse,” Bush answered, “it’s the press.”
“You said there would be evidence of a quagmire here,” said one of the reporters.
“Patient, my willing pawns,” answered the haunted portrait of Chairman Mao.
Now the robot ninjas surrounded Bush, Buck, Ichi, and Robo-Patton. “That’s some good quagmire!” exclaimed one of the reporters filming the event.
“Man, this couldn’t get any worse,” Bush sighed. Suddenly he felt a bite on his shoulder. “Ahh!” he screamed, “It’s Chim-Chim, the evilest monkey! Get him off! Get him off!” He looked to Buck. “What do I do when there is a monkey on my back?”
“I think you’re supposed to stop, drop, and roll,” Buck answered.
Bush dropped to the floor and rolled. “Robo-Patton you take care of the ninjas,” he ordered. “Buck you kill the press. Ichi, you stab the monkey on my back.”
“I don’t know if I’m supposed to kill the press,” Buck answered.
The ninjas attacked, but Robo-Patton opened on them with his gattling guns. “Kill! Kill! Kill!” Robo-Patton yelled.
“Foolish American robot general!” the portrait of Chairman Mao shouted. Beams of pure Commie evil then shot out of his eyes, knocking Robo-Patton down.
“Yay! More quagmire!” yelled one of the press.
“I hate art!” Buck exclaimed, firing at the portrait.
Mao just laughed. “Your puny weapons are no match for Commie evil! Kill, ninjas! Kill!”
Ichi pried Chim-Chim off Bush with his cane. Bush then grabbed Chim-Chim and threw him. “Ee ee!”Chim-Chim yelled as he flew out the window.
“What’s our status?” Bush asked.
“Robo-Patton can’t fight back while that Mayo guy is keeping him down,” Buck answered.
Bush flicked the cap off of a Sharpie with his thumb. “He’s mine!”

“So is there any way to spin this as a quagmire?” asked the anchorman.
“I’m afraid not,” answered CNN’s Lefty Stevens, “Bush and Robo-Patton soundly defeated all the ninjas. As much as I tried, I can’t spin this as a defeat for him.”
“But there could be more quagmire in the future, right?” the anchorman asked hopefully.
“Maybe,” Stevens answered not too assuringly.
Bush turned off the T.V. “Hooray!” he exclaimed, “Evil is defeated once again!” He then looked around the White House. “What happened here?”
“Teenagers broke in and vandalized the place,” Cheney answered.
Bush shook his fist in the air. “Teenagers!”
Laura now entered holding a trophy. “Well, this place is going to need a good cleaning, by golly.”
“Hey, honey,” Bush said, “Did you keep yourself busy while I was gone?”
“I did a few things here and there.”
“Hey, that’s a nice trophy you have there,” Bush remarked.
“It’s… uh… for winning the pecan pie baking contest,” Laura answered.
“Then why does it say, ‘Ultimate Fighting Championship’ on it?” Bush inquired.
“Well, you know how they like to hype those pie baking contests, by golly,” Laura answered with a nervous smile.
Bush nodded his head knowingly. “They’re nothing but politics; that’s why I stay out of them.”
“We have communications from Robo-Patton,” Condi stated.
“Are you busy leading the troops in Iraq?” Bush asked Robo-Patton.
“No. I’ve decided to finally do as I’ve always said and storm right into China.”
“That was MacArthur who wanted to do that,” Bush told him.
“Whatever,” Robo-Patton shot back, “Now leave me be as I weave a path of destruction.”
“Okay. Have fun.” Bush turned off the radio.
“He’s going to slaughter countless people in his insane pursuit,” Condi stated, “What should we do?”
Bush looked at his watch. “Well, it’s about lunchtime – let’s order pizza. What toppings does everyone want?”
“I like sausage,” Scott said.
“You would like sausage,” Bush chuckled. Everyone else laughed too.
“I hate you guys,” Scott grumbled.

The mood at the meeting of the Axis of Evil was dire.
“Ooh ooh! Ee ee!” Chim-Chim swore in revenge.
“Bush may have defeated us this time,” the haunted portrait of Chairman Mao said, “but he has not seen the last of us! Muh ha ha ha!”
Everyone else laughed evily too, but then Saddam finally asked Mao, “Did someone draw glasses, a mustache, and buckteeth on you?”
“There is no reason to draw attention to it!”
THE END