“Can I have my shoes back?” Scott asked.
“No,” Bush answered curtly, “All my staff is supposed to be able to walk barefoot through hell for me.”
“Dammit,” Scott mumbled, “Well, who’s going to be doing my job while we go down into hell?”
“I got a good replacement.”
“And who are you?” a reporter asked.
“This fancy dressed man gave me a dollar to sit up here and not give a straight answer to any questions,” said the transient, “I mean… uh… Let’s keep focused on the issues here.”
“And shouldn’t you be doing stuff about Iraq right now instead of traipsing into hell?” Scott questioned desperately.
“That’s in good hands.”
“Mmm… breakfast!” Buck the Marine shouted as he sat down.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” shouted Buck’s commanding officer.
“Eating breakfast, sir,” Buck answered, standing to attention.
“How many terrorists did you kill this morning?”
“Eight, sir.”
Buck’s commanding officer turned to an Army grunt. “Army grunt, how many terrorists did you kill yesterday.”
“Thirteen.”
He looked back to Buck. “I’ve been telling everybody that we Marines kill more terrorists before breakfast than the Army kills all day, and you’re telling me you’re going to sit down and eat when only eight are dead?”
“No, sir!” Buck shouted as he grabbed his rifles and ran off. “Man, those gravy covered tater-tots looked good,” he grumbled to himself.
“Ah, here we are,” Bush said as they came to the gates of hell. At the front was a sign. “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here,” Bush read aloud, “Well, they don’t say anything about firearms.” Bush patted the peacemaker at his side.
Bush marched into hell with Scott slowly following behind. Soon a man approached him. “Who is it?” Scott cried in fear.
“It’s just Virgil who wrote the Aeneid,” Bush answered.
“Don’t remind me of that,” Virgil said, “I told my servant to burn that thing if I didn’t return from my trip to finish it, and he disobeyed me. Now, thousands of years later, people are gawking at my poor plot pacing.”
“I’m sorry, Virgil,” Bush told him.
“Nothing to do about it now,” he sighed, “Anyway, in the first circle of hell…”
“We’re not here for the tour,” Bush interrupted, “I need to go talk to Satan.”
“You sure you don’t want to look around first?” Virgil asked, “You should see what we’re doing to Mohammad Atta. Oh…” He started laughing. “And then there is Uday and Qusay…”
“Maybe we’ll check it out if we have time later,” Bush told him, “Now… to Satan!”
“I want a signed contract before I agree to anything,” Condi said firmly.
“You see,” Satan explained, “Things are in flux right now and…”
“Condi, what are you doing here?” Bush shouted as he entered Satan’s office, “Are you making deals with the devil?”
“No,” Condi assured him and walked over to join him and Scott.
“What are you doing here?” Satan demanded.
“I want you to leave this presidential race,” Bush said, “I’ll even gamble my soul to get you out.”
Satan walked over to Bee. “What do you think?”
“A president’s soul would be good to have,” Bee said, “but there’s no guarantee he’ll win reelection. Then again, we’re having trouble getting traction in the polls.”
“I’m going for it,” Satan announced. He looked to president. “It’s a deal. We’ll have a competition. If you win, you’ll get a press release announcing I’m withdrawing from the race. If you lose… I get your soul!”
“All right then,” Bush said as he stood firmly, “So now do we have a fiddle competition?”
“No, that’s asinine,” Satan answered.
Bush sighed in relief. “Good. I don’t know how to play a fiddle.”
“How about a game of chess,” Satan suggested.
“I never understood that game. All the pieces move in funny directions and what not.”
“How about checkers?”
“That’s boring.”
“Backgammon?”
“Don’t understand that one either. How about Candyland?”
Satan grimaced. “I want a game of skill.”
“Poker, then.”
“I’m… getting over a gambling problem,” Satan said, “How about who can drink the other under the table?”
“No alcohol for me,” Bush answered, “How about an old fashioned shoot out?”
“I get squeamish around guns,” Satan replied.
“Uh… sumo wrestling.”
Satan rolled his eyes. “Like anyone is going to vote for either us after they see us in diapers.”
Bush narrowed his eyes. “I guess that leaves only one thing.”
Satan backed away. “It does indeed.”
“Leaves what?” Condi asked as Bush took off his suit jacket and gunbelt. A rotating ball of many small mirrors descended from the ceiling, and lights shined upon it, causing spectral images to dance upon the walls and floor.
“What’s happening?” Scott cried.
Bush took a deep breath in preparation. “A disco dance competition.”
The devil put on his dancing shoes
He was looking for Bush’s soul to steal
He was in a bind ’cause in the polls he was behind
And he was willing to make a deal.
When he came across this president
Ready for dancing and looking hot
And the devil jumped up on his mahogany desk
And said, “Boy, let me tell you what.
I guess you didn’t know it,
But I’m a disco dancer too,
And if you’d care to take a dare
I’ll make a bet with you.
Now you may fight a good war or two,
But give the devil his due;
I bet the office you hold against your soul
‘Cause I think I’m better than you.”
The president said “My name’s Dubya,
And I may be dumb as spit,
But I’ll take your bet, your gonna regret
‘Cause at dancing I’m fairly adequate.”
Dubya, ready up your courage,” Condi said,
“And prepare to disco hard,
‘Cause hell’s broke loose in the U.S.,
And the devil hasn’t even tried the race card.”
“And if you win,” Scott added,
“The devil won’t go after the office that you hold,
But if you lose, the devil gets your soul!”
“I understand that, dingus,” Bush grumbled.
The devil gave a mighty grin,
And he said “You in trouble, jack,”
And fire consumed the clothes he wore
Leaving him in a leisure suit of midnight black.
And the devil began to show his skills,
And quickly moved his feet.
The room turned into a disco inferno
As he danced in precision to an evil Bee Gees beat.
When the devil finished, Dubya said,
“Well you’re pretty good, old son,
But sit down in that chair right there
And let me show you how it’s done!”
“Chicken in the bread pan picking at dough!
Child can you do…”
“Quit babbling, Scott,” Bush yelled angrily.
Dubya began to dance
And slowly picked up the pace.
Soon he was in a total trance,
And all his moves shined with God’s grace.
All who saw him were awestruck,
And Dubya kept dancing right through hell’s flame.
Even the demons who watched were in amazement
For, in the end, Dubya put John Travolta to shame.
The devil bowed his head
Because he knew that he’d been beat,
And he laid that press release
On the marble flooring at Dubya’s feet.
Dubya said “Devil just come on back
If you ever want to try again.
I done told you once, you son of bitch,
Don’t mess with Texas!”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Condi said.
“Whatever,” Bush answered, “Now let’s go egg John Kerry’s house in celebration.”
“Which one?” Scott asked, “He has like twenty… or his wife does.”
“Whichever one is closest,” Bush said as they left hell.
“Damn him!” Satan screamed, “Damn him to here! He may have won this time, but in the end I shall triumph! All will…”
“Put a sock in it,” Bee said as she lit up a cigarette.
“There’s no smoking in here.”
“Nazi,” Bee grumbled as she walked out of the room.
“Bush is egging your house in Cape Cod, sir,” Kerry’s butler informed him.
“How can he do this to me!” Kerry shouted angrily as he shot to his feet, “I’ll show that stupid Texan! He may have gotten Satan out of the race, but he still has me to contend with and…” He then shrieked into the air, “I SERVED IN VIETNAM!”
“Anyway, it’s time for your manicure, sir.”
“Thanks, Jeeves.”
“So, this plan didn’t work,” Satan sighed as he took corn off the stalk and put in a basket, “There’s still plenty of evil for me to do in this world behind the scenes.”
“That’s how we’ve always done it before,” Bee answered, “It’s what we’re best at. Hmm… these tomatoes look ripe.”
“So do these cucumbers,” Satan said as he took more produce, “As I was saying, we’ll get those miserable humans yet. They will all bow down before my evil in the end. Muh ha ha ha!”
“You demons get away from my crops!” Rumsfeld shouted as he charged with pitchfork in hand, Chomps barking and leading the way.
“It’s old man Rumsfeld!” Bee screamed.
“Cheese it!” Satan yelled and ran off with his stolen vegetables.
Rumsfeld soon gave up his pursuit. “The man who sold me those pesticides told me they’d keep devils away,” he said to Chomps as he dropped his pitchfork, “Let’s go burn his house down.”
THE END
I want to know what they are doing to Mohammed Atta!! Maybe they just have a big demon hold him by his feet and slam him into a building all day long!!
Frank:
This is your most brilliant idea ever…Dantes Inferno for the modern world. Are you sure you want to waste this on a web posting? Write this as a book! I’d buy it, everyone would buy it and you’d finally achieve immortality! You could take over any conservative writer’s column you wanted. You could run for political office. You could defeat communism! (oh sorry that’s been done) You could defeat liberalism!
You would throw all of this away for your readers to enjoy a posting based upon Dantes Inferno? I’m chocking up at your generosity…
I still need the Angel Ronald to come down and lay waste to all non-belivers with his sword of awesomeness. This so needs to happen
Four words: L, M, A, and O.
Oh, and “Third”.
Er, make that “Fourth”. And now fifth too!
Frank,
What will be the song?
The Trammps ‘Disco Inferno’?
Rose Royce ‘Car Wash’?
KC and the Sunshine Band ‘Get Down Tonight’?
The Bee Gees ‘Stayin’ Alive’?
“Disco Duck”
Frank
Beo,
That’s in the Top Ten Worst Songs of All Time.
Rick Dees has been doing his radio shows from Switzerland since the release of that song due to the continual death threats.
Hey Frank did ya hear bill gates may become a blogger?
I done told you once you son of a bitch,
Don’t mess with Texas!
Damn him to here!
can’t read more..must breathe..
Bee calling Satan a ‘Nazi.’
Classic.
Just couldn’t get any better. ROFLMAO!
wooohooooo, I’m gonna get fired. OutSTANDing Frank!!!!!!!!
Frank, that was beautiful. Have you done any other lyric writing? It would make a cool addition to your site. “Frank’s Songs”
hahaha, genius Frank, absolutely genius!
“”It’s old man Rumsfeld!” Bee screamed.”
hilarious.
You definetly need to make a book! It would be amazing!
Hillarious… one of the best. Needs more democrat bashing. If you have satan why wasn’t mikey moore or teddy kennedy involved, surely they are in league with the Lord of the Pit.
Great stuff Frank. Satan and Bee running from Rumsfeld. But I gotta admit I was hoping for a return of the Crat Cutter from the O Yama series.
Good lord, I’ve not laughed that hard in forever.
You’re priceless, Frank. Never forget that, for if you do, we will all be damned to here!!! Couldn’t do without my daily dose of a peek into the mind of a madman. 🙂
One of your best! Now I am going to think of your lyrics when I hear that song…
“Mmm… breakfast!” Buck the Marine shouted as he sat down.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” shouted Buck’s commanding officer.
“Eating breakfast, sir,” Buck answered, standing to attention.
“How many terrorists did you kill this morning?”
“Eight, sir.”
Buck’s commanding officer turned to an Army grunt. “Army grunt, how many terrorists did you kill yesterday.”
“Thirteen.”
He looked back to Buck. “I’ve been telling everybody that we Marines kill more terrorists before breakfast than the Army kills all day, and you’re telling me you’re going to sit down and eat when only eight are dead?”
“No, sir!” Buck shouted as he grabbed his rifles and ran off. “Man, those gravy covered tater-tots looked good,” he grumbled to himself.
Buck is my hero.
Frank,
A book would be wonderful, but may I suggest teaming up with an animator to produce some short films?!? Years back, they used to show short animations on SNL (do they still, have not watched it in recent years?). The X-Presidents and Fun with RealAudio are the political ones that I recall. Your material deserves a nationally televised audience! Keep up the great work.
“Chicken in the bread pan picking at dough!
Child can you do…”
“Quit babbling, Scott,” Bush yelled angrily.
I spat coffee through my nose. Ouch. that hurt. but worth it.
You could run for political office. You could defeat communism! (oh sorry that’s been done)
you could defeat socialism, the modern version of communism
Wonderful stuff. This could definitely stand to be made into a good Homestar Runner style animation. //props & what-whats
That was hilarious! Totally worth the wait, says I. The lyrics were so funny, it definitely needs a video to go along with it. You’re probably too funny for SNL (not that I don’t watch it all the time, but I recognize its shortcomings) but I’d go for it regardless. They are always at their best when they do political humor anyway.
Your take on “Devil went down to Georgia” was great.
Keep up the great work.
Good job teaming Chomps up with Rumsfeld.
“The man who sold me those pesticides told me they’d keep devils away,” he said to Chomps as he dropped his pitchfork, “Let’s go burn his house down.”
Too much
“A president’s soul would be good to have,” Bee said,
I would have thought the devil would have had a few presidental souls already.
At least Clinton’s is already bought and paid for.
Bush answered, “Now let’s go egg John Kerry’s house in celebration.” “Which one?” Scott Asked. “Whichever one is closest,” Bush said as they left hell.
“Bush is egging your house in Cape Cod, sir,” Kerry’s butler informed him.
Always knew Hell was in Massachusetts.
28th.
All I can say is ROTFLMAO.
Some of your best work Frank.
‘my name’s dubya / and I might be dumb as spit / but when it comes to disco dancing / I’m fairly adequate.’ ooh I about lost it then. outstanding stuff, really great.
possible roles for Chomps in the future;
worlds angriest TSA Screener giving ‘private screening’ to a certain documentary film maker…World’s Angriest Climatologist crashing an Algore Global Warning meeting…World’s Angriest Moderator at the Presidential debates; ‘uh oh, Dan, looks like Haughty French-looking Evasion makes him angry…’ on behalf of good people everywhere, keep up the good work!!
A true “Boogie Wonderland” moment. I like the idea of Dubya in a Disco Suit (you think the dimocrats were miffed about the flight suit, this would really get their panties in a knot)!
“Damn you to here.” Brilliant.
Frank, all props to you! That was your BEST IMW ever!
I wholeheartedly agree with the others. You seriously need to look into taking your IMWs and getting them published in a book. I think you’d have a fantastic future as an author.
Hint: for the cover pic why not have Buck, Chomps, and the crew? If that’s too graphics intensive, then definitely stick with your pic of Chomps. You could also dedicate the book to Ronald Reagan, our deceased leader. What an addition this would be to every ronin’s altar!
Let me know when the book comes out!
The gift of mirth. Accepted with gratitude.
Frank – As others have said, one the the best ones I have read. Disco dance contest, LOL! I loved the ‘Devil Went Down to Georgia’ Parody, as I love all parodies. ApologetiX, that Christian Parody Band,
http://www.apologetix.com
has a parody of that song named “Devil Went Down to Jordan’, which is one of my favorites from them.
And all his moves shined with God’s grace. – just a great line.
Nice to see ol’ ugly shorts get put in his place. : )
“You are the devil, and the devil is bad…..” – The W’s
This sure has brightened up my day at work, which has stretched to the 12th hour now. Sigh….
Great choice of lyrics to go along with the disco dancing. I was mentally putting them into the song as I read.
But I’ll take your bet, your gonna regret
‘Cause at dancing I’m fairly adequate.”
Comedy Gold Jerry, Comedy Gold!
–I have to say… I thought I was ready for anything… but I was definitely NOT ready for President Bush in a disco dancing competition!! That was over the top!!!
–You are anything but predictable, Frank…
You should write for Southpark. This is beyond hysterical.
I agree with all the book suggestions – dear god, could you imagine a book-length IMW?
drools uncontrollably…
That said, it simnply couldn’t be as good per unit volume(well, at least I would imagine so, the well of jokes has to bottom out SOMEWHERE…doesn’t it?), but it would still be awe-inspiring. And if you ever need a proofreader willing to take a 20% cut of the sales, drop me a line 😉
“As he danced in precision to an evil Bee Gees beat.”
“You demons get away from my crops!” Rumsfeld shouted as he charged with pitchfork in hand, Chomps barking and leading the way.
Rumsfeld soon gave up his pursuit. “The man who sold me those pesticides told me they’d keep devils away,” he said to Chomps as he dropped his pitchfork, “Let’s go burn his house down.”
“Anyway, it’s time for your manicure, sir.”
Frank that was more than brilliant. The song was awesome. I was dying with laughter. Brilliant IMW!
Bush narrowed his eyes. “I guess that leaves only one thing.”
Satan backed away. “It does indeed.”
Bush took a deep breath in preparation. “A disco dance competition.”
Omigod. A literal, rip roaring LOL on that line!!
This should be forwarded to Charlie Daniel’s site. He would love it. You have a quirky and inspired pen sir, I love it.
That “Devil Went Down to Georgia” parody was easily the best song parody I’ve ever read. Top notch as always Frank.
i just now got to read this. my neighbor’s outside snooping around, and he probably thinks a mad cackling hyena lives here.
i have not laughed that hard in a long time, thanks frank. best IMW ever (uh, that i can remember).
That is the funniest thing I’ve ever read. Thanks for the great laughs!
Love that song, and your version of it..
But I’ll take your bet, your gonna regret
‘Cause at dancing I’m fairly adequate.”
Best line ever!
That’s the best IMW ever!! :o)
Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.