“In My World: Black Project Insano” was the first multipart In My World™, three parts posted in 2003 on May 28th, June 2nd, and June 4th (my birthday!). Multi-part posts happen when I get lazy and don’t feel like finishing the whole damn things in one sitting (orignally it was going to be one post, then I was going to finish it up in two, and then it became the final three). The name Black Project Insano, comes from a friend of mine who writes wacky internet comics.
This series is also notable for the introduction of Chomps, the world’s angriest dog. He was made for a throwaway gag in the second part, but, he was so much fun writing for, I brought him back in the very end and teamed him with Rumsfeld. The Chomps t-shirt is still in the designing phase, for those curious.
Chomps was based on an actual dog who chased me once when I went door to door for Cub Scouts collecting cans for charity. I tried to stop the dog by throwing cans at him, but he caught them in his mouth and ripped them to shreds. Eventually, I sought refuge by climbing up a tree, but the dog then gnawed at the tree trunk, trying to cut the whole tree down. He almost succeeded, but then a hippy walked by and the dog immediately attacked, ripping the man to shreds. I used the distraction to flee, and the incident has scarred my psyche ever since. Actually, everytime I write about Chomps, I feel my sanity slowly slipping…
Anyhoo, here is the special directors cuts of Black Project Insano, all three parts united for the first time. Enjoy!

In My World: Black Project Insano
Jacques Chirac sat in his office contemplating how superior he was to all other foreign leaders, when suddenly the phone rang. “Hello?”
“Hey… uh… this is Pierre. You know… Pierre.”
“Oh, hello, Pierre. How are you?”
“I’m great.”
“You’re not sounding very French today.”
“I have a cold. Anyway, I was looking for Chezz. Do you know him?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Well, he should be with two other people somewhere near your office. The other two are Sue and Norm. If you could get them for me, I’d appreciate it.”
“Certainly. Just to be clear, though, what are their last names?”
“Well, Chezz’s last name is Eaton. Sue’s last name is… uh… I can’t remember. But I know, Norm’s; it’s Unkies.”
“Unkies?”
“Yeah, I don’t what nationality that name is.”
“Well, I’ll go see if I can find them.”
“Thanks Jacque-strap; you’re a real help.”
Chirac took his cordless phone with him as he headed out into the main lobby. “Are you Chezz Eaton, Sue, and Norm Unkies?” he asked the first group he saw. He then shouted out, “Are there Chezz Eaton, Sue, and Norm Unkies here? Someone check the nearby military base for Chezz Eaton, Sue, and Norm Unkies!”
Everyone started laughing.
“Oh, it’s you again!” Chirac said angrily into the phone, “When I find out who this is, I’ll impotently demand to you to stop!”
The only response was more laughter.

“Oh, that was classic,” Bush chuckled as he hung up the phone. “Aren’t you going to miss this when you leave, Ari?”
“Hey, man, I told you; I have to follow my heart,” Ari Fleischer replied, “I just know my band ‘American Hellbender’ is going to take off big with its mix of reggae, techno, and country done to a new age beat.”
“Can we get to the business at hand?” Condoleezza Rice demanded angrily, “There are lots of evil nations out there, and they aren’t going to bomb themselves! Well, maybe North Korea is crazy enough to do that… but we can’t count on it!”
“Fine. So who should we attack next, Rumsfeld?”
“See this map here?” Rumsfeld said, walking up to a large map on the wall. Suddenly he shouted “Rarr!” and started ripping away the map until finally nothing was left except for the U.S. He then stuffed the pieces of the map into a wastebasket and set them on fire.
“As your Secretary of State,” Colin Powell stated, “I’d like to point out that there might be some disadvantages to destroying all other countries.”
“You weak willed liberal!” Rumsfeld screamed, “You’re on the terrorist’s side!” He then tried to lunge at Powell who ran out of the room while Rice and Ari tried to hold Rumsfeld back. Rumsfeld eventually calmed down and returned to his seat.
“So, have any smaller plans for who we fight next?” Bush asked.
“I do,” Rice replied, “Ever heard of the small island country of Lintuvia?”
“No,” Bush answered, “but yesterday was the first time I heard of Brazil.”
“Well it’s a small, isolated island dictatorship in the Indian Ocean,” Rice continued, “and an easy target.”
“What have they done to us?”
“What have they done for us?” Rice responded, “Anyway, it’s great testing ground for our new military weapon: Black Project Insano!”
“Wow! That sounds cool!” Bush exclaimed, “What is it?”
“Well, I don’t really know…” Rice admitted, “I just know it’s our greatest project ever… but the exact details are beyond my security clearance.”
“What about mine? I’m the president.”
“Even beyond yours,” Rice told him.
“What about you, Rumsfeld?”
“I just don’t give a rat’s ass.”
“So who does know?” Bush asked.
“That’s also classified beyond our level,” Rice said.
“Wait,” Bush suddenly exclaimed, “I think I do know who knows.”
“Yes, you were fooled into knowing who knows,” Rice explained, “That’s part of Black Project Insano.”
“Am I supposed to know that I was fooled?”
“Yes, you have the clearance to know that the one you think you know who knows, doesn’t actually know. That was a bit of an oversight.”
“So who actually knows who knows what Black Project Insano is?”
“That is also too classified.”
“So who knows who knows who knows what Black Projext Insano is?”
“Dick Cheney.”
“Ah, so we have to find Dick.”
“This is idiotic,” Rumsfeld commented, “Can’t we just bomb countries and shoot people as normal?”
“Do not underestimate the power of Black Project Insano!” Rice shot back, “First we test it on Lintuvia, and then the world will be mine!” She started laughing evilly, but then noticed everyone staring at her. “Uh… I mean the world will be at peace and run by the U.S.”
“I’m going to look for Dick Cheney,” Bush said. He then went to the door of the conference room and shouted out, “Laura! Is Dick in one of the cupboards in the kitchen?”
“Honey, I can’t always be finding Cheney for you,” Laura answered.
“Did you forget where you undisclosed him again?” Rice asked angrily.
“Uh… no.”
“Remember, he was with us at the mall this afternoon,” Ari said.
“Oh, then we just have to wait for him to drive back,” Bush answered.
“But, dude, we drove him.”
“Oh man!” Bush exclaimed, “I stranded Dick at the mall again. He’s going to be all angry and having heart attacks.”
“We’ll send someone to get him,” Rice stated, “Now we need to send a Special Forces group to clear Lintuvia of any resistance.”
“I know who you should send,” Rumsfeld said.
“Who?” Bush asked.
“Buck.”
“Buck who?”
“Buck… the Marine!”

“Hello, Buck here – Buck the Marine that is… This is the president? President of what? …The United State of America! That’s the best thing to be president of. So what can I do for you, sir? …You want me to do a mission in Lintuvia? Are their for’ners there? …Then they’re dead! Now I just need you to give me some supplies… What do you mean I have to buy my own bullets? …You can’t afford bullets for me so you could have a tax cut for the rich! That doesn’t seem right… Well, yes, I guess rich people do deserve the money they earn, and that they do contribute a lot to society through investments and creating new jobs… and it was selfish of me to think of myself when they were being overtaxed… Yes, I’ll do that. I’ll write and apology to the local Millionaire’s club before I head out… Yes, that to, I’ll be more happy for what I have: my free room and board and my fifty dollars a month salary… What do you mean you want me to pay rent now! How much tax cuts do rich people need? …That makes me so mad I could kill people! …Yes, I guess that is good timing. I’ll get ready for the mission.”

“Funny I have to leave now,” Ari said at the press conferences, “just as I’ve finally figured out how to handle Helen Thomas.” He took out a laser pointer. “Get the red dot, Helen! Get it!”
Helen chased the laser point. “That red dot is mine!” She eventually followed it until it made her jump out the window.
“So, any questions?” Ari said as he put away the laser pointer.
“Could the fight in Iraq eventually be over-shadowed by stacking prisoners in naked pryamids?”
“That’s so crazy I won’t dignify that with a response,” Ari replied, “Any other questions?”
“What this we hear about ‘Black Project Insano’?”
Ari fiercely grabbed the reporter. “WHO TOLD YOU?” Ari screamed at the top of his lungs. He then noticed everyone was looking at him with fright. He gently set the reporter back down and patted him on the shoulder. “I mean, what a ridiculous thing. I’ve never heard of any… whatever it was you just said. That’s just some crazy fiction you probably read about in the Weekly World News or the New York Times.”
“I have a question,” said the Fox News reporter. “Iran is reportedly harboring al Qaeda terrorists, so why haven’t we marched in there and hung those supposedly responsible by their own entrails? Is it because the Bush administration sympathizes with terrorists, or is it because you’re all a bunch of pussies?”
“Well… uh… the diplomatic way to do this…”
“And my follow up question,” she continued, “Is whether you think it’s apt to describe your departure from the Bush administration by using the analogy of rats fleeing a sinking ship… with one of those rats being grotesque and balding.”
“Now you’re just being mean,” Ari said angrily, “and… and… are you wearing a bikini?”
“Producer’s idea; these press conferences don’t get very good ratings.” She then listened to something coming in from her earpiece. “No I’m not going to jump up and down when I ask questions!”
“You know, at CNN we have higher journalistic integrity,” proudly said a CNN reporter.
“You’re only talking to me like that because you know I don’t have anywhere to conceal a gun!” the Fox News reporter shot back angrily. “We’re the number one news channel for a reason.” She then listened to a new message coming from her earpiece. “No I won’t take my top off!”
A Secret Service agent walked up to Ari. “It’s time.”
“Uh, I’m going to go hide out in a five mile deep underground shelter for no particular reason,” Ari announced, “So this press conference is over.”
“Maybe I’ll mud wrestle another reporter,” the Fox News reporter said as she listened to her earpiece, “But we have to renegotiate my contract first.”

“Buck the Marine here. Can anyone hear me?”
“I hear ya, Buck. This is the president of the United States, George Dubya, but, as long as we’re using the radio, refer to me by my CB handle: Porn Star.”
“Okay, Porn Star. I have set up base camp in Lintuvia.”
“Did you experience much resistance?”
“Well, when I first arrived, the Lintuvians said, ‘What are you doing here, for’ner.’ And then I said, ‘I’m not a for’ner. You’re the for’ners, for’ners.’ You get that? The stupid for’ners didn’t even know they were foreign. Anyway, they’re dead now.”
“Good job, Buck. Be careful of those Lintuvians; they’re extremists.”
“Religious extremists?”
“Maybe, I’m not really sure. They may actually be extremists against people with religion, or maybe they just like extreme sports. But we are certain they are extremists and you need to be careful.”
“I can tell you they ain’t Christian extremists; Christians shoot straighter.”
“So what is your condition right now?”
“Well, I set down to make base camp, so I opened my cooler I brought and took out a good ‘ole American beer. Then snipers started shooting at me, so I then I shot back at them, rifle in my right hand while I continued to drink the beer in my left hand. Then I remembered I had to radio you guys, which meant I had to put down either the rifle or the beer. I think I made the right choice.” Buck paused to take a sip of beer.
“Sounds like you got a handle on things. Soon people will be there to implement Black Project Insano. Whatever you do, do not look at what they have, as you do not have the proper clearance.”
“To clarify, Porn Star, what am I supposed to not be looking at?”
“Uh… I’m not really sure. But, if you see something that you think you shouldn’t be seeing, stop seeing. Is that clear?”
Buck took another sip of beer.
“Good luck, Buck. We’re counting on you. Porn Star is over and out.”
A sniper shot hit near Buck, so he put down the radio and picked back up his M-16 and fired back while finishing off his beer. That seemed to be the last of them; no more for’ners left to shoot. Suddenly Buck noticed a number of men in black suits and sunglasses approaching him.
“Are you for’ners?” Buck asked suspiciously.
“That’s classified,” answered one of the men.
“Hey, that thing you guys are carrying has some rust on it,” Buck pointed out.
“He’s seen too much!” one of the men said to another.
“What I do now?” Buck asked, confused.
“Put him the target radius,” one of the men in black said as they operated the device.
“Hey, that don’t sound like a good thing…” Buck started to say, but then saw a bright light followed by nothingness.

“Wow, I’ve never seen this room before!” Bush exclaimed as he explored the underground war room. “What do these buttons do,” he asked as he reached for a control panel.
Condoleezza Rice slapped his hand. “That’s why I haven’t let you down here. Now go sit at the conference table.”
“Hey, I’m the president,” Bush said meekly, “I tell you what to do…”
“QUIET!” Rice screamed.
Bush took a seat at the conference table along with Donald Rumsfeld, Colin Powell, and Ari Fleischer who was busy playing at a computer in front of him. “They let you down here, Colin?” Bush asked with surprise.
“He knows how to behave,” Rice said.
“As long as I don’t speak, they don’t hurt me,” Powell explained.
“I’ll strangle you for speaking!” Rumsfeld shouted.
“There is no time for strangling,” Rice said, sitting at the head of the table, “It is time to discuss Black Project Insano.”
“First off, though,” Bush interrupted, “Who is that mysterious looking guy standing in the shadows smoking a cigarette?”
“Ignore him,” Condoleezza answered.
“But he’s creeping me out.”
“Then he is doing is job,” Rice said irately, “As I was saying, more details of Black Project Insano are becoming known. Bush, remember when the aliens visited at the beginning of your term?”
“Sure do. The decided that since we no longer had a lecherous hillbilly as our leader, we were now ready to meet with them. They said they would share technology that would end disease, famine, and ketchup stains. Then Rumsfeld strangled them all because they looked funny.”
“And I’d do it again,” Rumsfeld vowed.
“Well, the secret hidden government within the U.S. government took possession of the alien technology,” Rice explained, “And then began reverse engineering it to see if it could be used for evil instead of good. Thus was born Black Project Insano, and we finally have seen its results in Lintuvia.”
On a giant screen appeared an image of the island country of Lintuvia. A bright light was seen, and then most of the country disappeared.
“What happened?” Bush asked.
“Apparently we ripped apart the very fabric of time and space itself,” Rice said with glee, “and transported the Lintuvians into an alternate dimension!”
“What about Buck?” Rumsfeld asked.
“He saw too much, and was transported as well,” Rice said dismissively.
“But he was my favorite drinking buddy!”
“You fool!” Rice exclaimed, “Do you not realize how much more important this is than one silly Marine? We now control the fabric of the universe. We’ll be able to instantly transport anywhere in the world for a surprise attack, and escape just as easily. We can also disappear entire cities, such as transporting the entire population of Paris into an alternate dimension where they will be eaten by the Velociwargs and the Jangowizers.”
“What’s a Velociwarg and a Jangowizer?” Bush asked.
“Those are the names I will give to the first two creatures that eat French people,” Rice answered. “Now, not only will we be able to conquer this world, but we’ll be able to travel to other worlds as well, conquering and uniting an uncountable number of planets into one nation ruled by one person alone.” Rice rose to her feet. “Empress Condoleezza! All shall love me and despair!” She then paused for a second. “I mean, all worlds will be united under the protection of the U.S.A.,” she said meekly, sitting back down.
“I have just one question,” Bush said, eyeing Rice with suspicion, “What about back in the fifties when everyone smoked? How would you be a mysterious guy who stood in the shadows? Would you not smoke a cigarette and be known as the ‘Non-Smoking Man’?”
Rice shook her head with exasperation. “Why did I even involve you with this? This is all-important, highly classified material that must never leave this room. If even…”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Laura Bush said, walking into the war room, “but I need to get the laundry.”
“How did you get in here?” Rice demanded angrily, “You’re not allowed through security!”
“Poppycock,” Laura answered, “I always come down here to do the laundry.” She opened a machine at the other end of the room and started pulling out pieces of clothing.
“Those aren’t washing machines, you fool!” Rice screamed, “Those are matter destabilizers!”
“And they sure get the stains out,” Laura commented.
“That’s it!” Rice exclaimed, “Cyborg ninja monkey zombies, stop her! Yes… that’s right, go towards her… now KILL! KILL! No… no… DON’T HELP HER FOLD!”
“I never heard anything about cyborg ninja monkey zombies,” Bush said.
“It was a line item in the last budget I gave you,” Rice said innocently.
“I’ve got my laundry, so I’m heading out,” Laura announced, “The cookies I’m baking should be done soon; who wants some?”
“I do!” said the Cigarette Smoking Man.
“You’re not supposed to talk!” Rice exclaimed, “You’re supposed to be mysterious!”
“But I want a cookie.”
“Fools!” Rice screamed, “I’m surround by fools!”
“I know who is not getting a cookie,” Laura said, giving a sharp glance to Rice before leaving the war room.
“This is so much crap,” Rumsfeld finally commented, “All this interdimensional gobbledygook and whatnot is a fools game. Give me a good old fashioned war with shooting and stabbing.”
“I wholeheartedly agree,” Powell commented.
“You’re not supposed to speak!” Rumsfeld shouted, “Rarr!”
Rice finally noticed Ari working busily at a computer. “What are you doing?”
“I always get bored by meetings,” Ari said, “So I decided to play some space invaders.”
“That’s not a videogame!” Rice shouted. She then looked at his screen. “You’ve destroyed most of Luxemburg!”
“So?”
“So you have to go talk to the press and explain this,” Rice told him.
“Yeah, stupid,” Bush chided him.
“Whatever,” Ari answered.
“And make sure they know nothing about our plotting!” Rice commanded him.
“Okey-dokey,” Ari said as he left the room.
“Oh man; I’m outta smokes!” the Cigarette Smoking Man exclaimed, “Can I bum one off someone?”

“I see they let you wear clothes today,” said the CNN reporter snidely.
“The producers and I came to an understanding,” the Fox News reporter answered, fixing her blouse.
“If that skirt were any shorter, it would just be a frilly belt,” the CNN reporter laughed.
“Oh, that’s witty; you should share that with your viewer,” the Fox News reporter shot back.
“People, can I have your attention,” Ari Fleischer announced, “As you know, I am going to be leaving my post as White House Press Secretary soon, so I have two people here who will be trying out as my replacement.”
“Yes, according to your press release, one had his former job as guard of a junkyard and has been diagnosed with a severe anti-social personality disorder,” pointed out one reporter.
“Yes,” Ari answered, “You’re referring to Chomps, rated by the Guinness Book of World Records as the world’s angriest dog.”
The rottweiler Chomps simmered in its irrational fury, looking ready to explode at any moment into an orgy of violence.
“And you describe the other candidate as quote ‘A fat load of s**t who makes sham documentaries and, as hard as it is to believe, is actually uglier on the inside than on the outside.”
“You’re talking about Michael Moore,” Ari said, pointing to Michael Moore himself who stood near Chomps.
“And I’m going to tell the truth about the fiction that is the Bush administration,” Moore blurted, “I’m going to… AHH!!! GET HIM OFF ME!!!”
Chomps attacked Michael Moore as if the devil himself was in him.
“AHH! THE PAIN!!!”
“Well, it’s going to take Chomps a while to chew through that many layers of fat, so let’s go on to questions,” Ari said in a bored tone.
“OH!!! WHY WON’T HE STOP!!!”
“Did you just set this up so that Michael Moore could be attacked by the world’s angriest dog?” asked a reporter suspiciously.
“Please stick to policy questions.”
“I think… he stopped… AHH!!! HE GOT HIS SECOND WIND!!!”
“Michael Moore, what do you say to people who feel you deserve to be chewed on by the world’s angriest dog?” the Fox News reporter asked Moore.
“PLEASE!!! SOMEONE HELP ME!!! DON’T JUST STAND THERE FILMING THIS!!!”
“Hey, questions go over here,” Ari said angrily.
“Do you have any explanation for the sudden cruise missile attack on Luxemburg?”
“No. Not really.”
The reporter thought about that for a moment. “Thank you for your candidness.”
“Do you think people may tire of the war in Iraq and threaten to elect a French-looking man with Botox in his face?” asked another reporter.
“What do you guys huff before you come here?” Ari said in exasperation. “The answer is no, that’s crazy. Next question.”
“What do you say to reports that you’ve sent a Marine to the small island country of Lintuvia in preparation for an experimental use of alien technology?”
Ari laughed unconvincingly for nearly a minute straight. “That… that is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. Who, by the way, told you such a crazy thing, because I would like to meet that person and say, ‘Hey, you’re one silly person.'”
“Well, I can’t reveal my sources,” the reporter answered.
“Even at threat of death?”
Two large men in black suits approached the reporter from both side. “Well… uh…”
Suddenly there was a blinding flash of light. When it faded away, there was a ghostly image of a demonic face floating above Ari. “I am Lipitor!,” it said in an earth-shaking voice, “Tyrant king of the multi-verse! You have disturbed my dimension, and now you will all pay dearly. I will destroy your world, and make you all my slaves! There is nothing you can do to stop me! Muh ha ha ha ha!” The image then faded away.
“Dammit,” Ari sighed, “You just know that right before I retire there is going to be an inter-dimensional incident.”
“Will this conflict with Lipitor distract from Bush’s war on terror?” asked one reporter.
“Has France the technology to appease evil dictators in alternate dimensions?” inquired another.
“Why haven’t we collapsed threatening dimensions into a singularity?” demanded the Fox News reporter, “Is it because we lack the technology, or is it because the Bush administration is a bunch of momma’s boys?”
“Where are my pills?” asked Helen Thomas.
“Everyone let’s calm down for a second,” Ari told them, “before we get on to answering more questions, let’s first have a break for refreshments. Right now, a couple of men are handing out a cherry flavored beverages that may or may not erase your memories.”
“Can I have one to forget this pain?” Moore asked meekly. “AHH! HOW LONG CAN HE KEEP BITING MY GROIN!!!”
“No, you can’t have any,” Ari answered.
“Mine has more of a raspberry taste,” said one reporter.
“Just drink it!”

“This is Buck the Marine,” Buck said into his voice recorder, “That date is… Tuesday? I think Tuesday. The time is…” He looked at his wrist. “I cannot tell the time from the hairs on the back of my hand. Apparently I forgot my watch. Anyway, I have found myself on an alien landscape.” He looked about him at the purple sky and yellow, rocky ground. Ominous mountains loomed in the distance, and strange creatures flew overhead. “Note to self: no longer accept missions where the objective is more complicated than ‘Kill the foreign people.'”
“So what are rules for engagement on an alien land,” Buck thought to himself as he put away his voice recorder. He then took out his USMC Rules of Engagement Manual. “‘Rule one’,” he read aloud, “‘Kill for’ners.’ Hmm… I already knew that one. What about aliens.” He flipped through the small manual. “Here we go: ‘When on an alien world, be extra careful. You cannot know how creatures may react, so it is best to try and avoid them. Only attack a creature if it appears it is about to attack you or if it is just really really freaky looking.'”
Buck looked around. Overhead flew a creature resembling a manta ray. “That’s not attacking me,” he mused aloud, “and it’s only somewhat freaky looking, so I’ll let it live.”
A large lizard like creature charged Buck, mouth agape of sharp teeth. “Now that’s just mildly freaking looking, but it appears to be attacking me… so it dies.” Buck fired his M-16 at it, dropping it dead.
Near him he saw a giant animal, it’s body like that of a brontosaurus, but it’s head like that of toucan. “Now that is pretty damn freaky looking, but honestly not really really freaking looking, so I’ll let it live.”
Below him he saw a bug with three heads, each one with snapping pinchers. It also had bat like wing and the tail of a mouse. “Now, that is not attacking me, but it is really really freaking looking.” He crushed it with his rifle butt. “Now it’s dead. Ooh-rah!”
“Greeting, outworlder,” said some voice from behind Buck.
He turned to see three humanoid aliens, each with pale skin and large black eyes. “Greetings, alien creatures,” Buck responded, “I am Buck the Marine from the planet America. I come in peace, but, as you see, I am well armed in case non-peace breaks out. In summary, I will talk to you, but, if you make any sudden movements, I’ll kill you all.”
“We understand your terms, outworlder,” answered one of the aliens, “We have come to warn you of a threat to your world.”
“A threat to my world!” Buck exclaimed, “That’s bad!”
“Yes it is,” the alien continued, “The evil tyrant Lipitor wishes to destroy your world and put you all in slavery. It is up to you to stop him.”
“Just tell ‘ole Buck what to do.”
“You must travel the trail of despair to Lipitor’s citadel which rest on the edges of many dimensions. Inside you will find his transdimensional oscillator, and through it’s deactivation will Lipitor become vulnerable to the plasmic discharges within his inner sanctum. When he is weakened, then you can destroy his stronghold by overloading its stabilizers with positronic energy. Finally, you must then escape to your dimension through a dimensional portal of your proper dimensional frequency.”
Buck considered this for a moment and then took a sip of beer. “Why don’t you break that down into pointing me in which direction I should walk and describing what thing I’m supposed to kill.”
“You must head that way,” one of the aliens said, pointing to a dark fortress in the distance, “Your enemy, Lipitor, is a transdimensional being, both massive and small, both there and not there. He is known by his presence, which disturbs the air with a…”
“On second thought,” Buck interrupted, “Why don’t you just draw me a picture.”

“Until this whole interdimensional mess is taken care of, you better lay low in your new undisclosed location,” President Bush told Dick Cheney through their satellite uplink.
“It’s not an undisclosed location!” Cheney said angrily, “You just stranded me on the median of some highway.”
“Yeah, but do you know which highway?” Bush pointed out.
“No, I can’t tell from here, but everyone driving by gawking at me probably knows.”
“Well, stop looking so conspicuous. Dig a hole or something.”
“But I’m in a three piece suit… and it’s hot out!” Cheney yelled. “Ah! And someone just threw a beer bottle at me. And now I’m tasting copper…”
Bush cut the link. “Whine, whine, whine.”
“Honey, I have an article in this month’s issue of Today’s First Lady,” Laura Bush said, entering the office and placing a magazine on Bush desk.
Bush grimaced. “This isn’t another article about drapes, is it?”
“No, just read it.”
Bush picked up the magazine. “‘Signs a coworker may be a supervillian,'” Bush read aloud, “‘Sometimes a close associate may be plotting world conquest and you may not even notice. Here are some signs to look for:
“‘1. Maniacal Laughter.'” Bush looked to Laura, “So what is that exactly?”
“Well, if someone, instead of laughing at other people’s jokes, laughs after bold statements of power or evil,” Laura explained.
“Kinda like how Condi tends to laugh when she explains the destructive power of a new weapon,” Bush said.
“Yeah, that might be an example,” Laura answered innocently.
“So what’s next?” Bush looked at the article again. “2. Lives at odd, isolated location.” He turned to Laura. “Speaking of odd, you should see Condi’s place. I went to the address, and there was a hollowed out volcano. When I tried to find to entrance, I was attacked by ninjas.”
“Look at item three,” Laura pointed out.
“3. Is protected by hired thugs or ninjas.” Bush thought for a moment. “Wait! I know what this is about! You’re trying to convince me that Condi is a supervillian!”
“I don’t trust that woman, George,” Laura said sternly, “Last time Barbara and Jenna visited, I swear I saw her trying to hire them to be twin assassins.”
Bush chuckled. “That’ silly; you want identical twins for that.”
“I think you need to stop that Black Project Insano,” Laura told him, “I think it’s giving Dr. Rice too much opportunity for evil and world conquest.”
“What? How do you know about that secret project?” Bush exclaimed.
“You’re always leaving your papers scattered everywhere making me clean up after you,” Laura chided him, “I bought you folders – even labeled them for you – but still it’s paper lying everywhere.”
“I’ll try to be more organized in the future,” Bush moaned.
“That’s not what this is about,” Laura said sternly, “You need to pull the plug on that project and stop Dr. Rice from taking over this world and countless others… or before she gets us destroyed by some evil alien warlord.”
“But… but if I make her mad, she may feed me to a Krackeldozer,” Bush said timidly.
“What’s a Krackeldozer?”
“That the name she said she’s going to give to the alien creature she’ll feed me to if I bother her while she’s plotting.”
“It doesn’t matter, George, you’re the President of the United States, and you have to stand up to her,” Laura told him firmly, “Didn’t the American people elect a president with character who will stand up for what he believes?”
“I have plenty of character,” Bush insisted, “Why compared to the last president…”
“Oh, George,” Laura interrupted angrily, “Why don’t you just say you’re a champion runner by comparing yourself to a man without legs. Now you better go talk to Dr. Rice or your going to be spending a lot of time sleeping on the couch like that ‘last president’ you love to bring up.”
Laura then left the room leaving Bush to think by himself. “Aw, dang it,” Bush grumbled, “Better at least make sure my will is in order first.”

Laughter echoed throughout the room. “You’re a clever adversary, Buck,” the disembodied voice of Lipitor said, “You’ve broken into my fortress. Still, if you had any real intelligence, a mortal such as you would never dare to contend with a god such as me. Now that you are in my lair, you will find yourself in situations that will challenge your very understanding of physics itself.”
“My understanding of what now?” Buck asked, taking another sip of beer.
“Do not mock me, Buck,” Lipitor said angrily, “I will rip you apart, scattering your pieces among countless universes.”
Buck stared a while at his can of beer, and then looked quite displeased.
“Is that fear I see, Buck?”
“That was my last beer.” He tossed it away, and then saw it torn asunder by an unseen force. Buck looked about him with some confusion. There were glowing portals among doors and windows floating in nothingness. At times the room appeared quite small, and then he looked at if from another angle and it appeared infinitely huge. He really wanted another beer.
“Better go to my all purpose plan B,” Buck announced, “Throw grenades everywhere and see what blows up.”

Bush knocked on the door of Condoleezza Rice’s office. “Can we talk for a moment?”
“I’m busy with military matters,” Rice answered with annoyance, “Why don’t you go watch your A-team reruns.”
“Uh… we really need to talk now.”
“You’re starting to bother me,” Rice said, a bit of menace in her voice.
Bush took a deep breath, then barged right into her office. Rice stared at him angrily as a map of the world with attack plans sat on her desk. Bush then glanced behind him to see the mysterious Cookie Eating Man standing in the shadows. “Uh… I had a whole speech prepared about how we shouldn’t fool around with the fabric of time and space,” Bush said nervously, “but I was distracted by a squirrel on the way here and forgot it all. So I’ll just cut to the chase: I’m going to shut down Black Project Insano.”
“Why? Don’t you see the power it gives us?”
“Well, that whole thing with that alien warlord appearing and threatening us…”
“Bah, Lipitor is a fool,” Rice said dismissively, “I’ll find a way to defeat him.” She rose to her feet. “Then the multi-verse will be MINE!”
“See, there’s the other thing,” Bush said, “I think you’re becoming too drunken with power and are not pursuing all this for the interests of the American people.”
Rice laughed unconvincingly as she sat back down. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Well, my decision is final,” Bush said, trying to look resolute, “Black Project Insano will be shut down.”
Rice laughed again, this time more insidiously. “You don’t even know which phony orphanage it’s funded through to be able to shut it down.”
“Well… well I’ll… I’ll defund all orphanages then, smartypants.”
Rice shot to her feet again. “You can’t do that!”
“Yes I can,” Bush said firmly, “because I’m the President of the United States, the leader of the free world, and I can do anything.”
“You fool! I’ll destroy you!”
“Oh, and come to think of it,” Bush added, “I’m taking your Snoopy mug as well.” Bush snatched the mug from her desk.
“But… but… that my Snoopy mug! You can’t just take it!”
“Yes I can,” Bush asserted, “because I’m the President of the United States, and I can do whatever I want. Good day, Dr. Rice.” He then headed out of the office.
“Bring back Snoopy!” Rice shouted. She then became intensely angry. “You’ll rue the day you ever heard the name Condoleezza!”
“Can I go now?” asked the Cookie Eating Man.
“Yes, you’re getting crumbs everywhere.”

The fortress crumbled, as the demonic Lipitor stood there surrounded in flames. “I guess I underestimated you, Buck. First you broke into my fortress, solved the puzzles of the room of eternity, snuck into the kitchen and ate my lunch, and finally destroyed the stabilizers that kept my fortress existing between the universes.”
“Yep, don’t mess with a United States Marine,” Buck answered, finishing off his four dimensional sandwich.
“But the last laugh will be mine!” shouted Lipitor, “When my fortress is gone, you will be trapped with me forever in the void between dimensions. Muh ha ha ha!”
“You must flee to the portal to your world,” came a voice in Buck’s head.
“Is that Jesus?”
“No, it’s one of us aliens talking to you telepathically.”
“Doing what now?”
“Talking through your mind,” the alien said with annoyance, “Now go through the interdimensional portal to your homeworld.”
“Uh… and what’s that exactly?”
“Go into the bright light to your right!”
“Okay, okay. You don’t have to telo-mathematically yell,” Buck said, heading from the crumbling fortress.
“You’re other right!” the voice shouted.
“Oh, whoops.” Buck jumped into the glowing portal.
“I will have my revenge!” he heard Lipitor shout, just before the world around Buck disappeared.

“Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen.” Rumsfeld cocked his hand back really far for the last punch. “And twenty!” He dropped the reporter to the ground. “I hoped that answered your question about whether the war in Iraq was started for false pretenses. If you didn’t understand the answer, I could repeat.”
The reporter just moaned in response.
Suddenly a bright light appeared in the air, and out from it fell Buck the Marine.
“Buck, you’re back!” Rumsfeld exclaimed, “What happened?”
“Well, I was transported to an alien world where I killed me some freaky aliens, and then I went to fortress of this evil warlord Lipitor who wanted to conquer earth. I destroyed his fortress, casting him forever into the void, escaped back to my dimension, and then, having preserved American values and apple pie from the cold grip of alien forces, I shouted, ‘Ooh-rah.'” Buck thought for a moment. “No, wait; I hadn’t done that last part yet.” He held is rifle over his head. “OOH-RAH!”
“Good job, Buck,” Rumsfeld said, “and you’re back just in time for happy hour. Not let’s go get hammered and pick some country to invade through conventional mean, forgetting forever this interdimensional crap.”
“But we have more questions!” whined one of the reporters.
“Buck, fire your rifle into the air,” Rumsfeld suggested, “That should scatter them.”
Buck fired a three-round burst into the air, and the reporters fled in terror except for one woman who held her ground. “Who’s that?” Buck asked.
“That’s the Fox News reporter,” Rumsfeld explained, “She’s a little harder to scare away.” Rumsfeld then clapped his hand loudly in front of her face. “Now shoo! Scram!”
“But I have more questions about whom America will destroy next with its righteous power,” she asserted.
“Hey, that’s a nice dog you have with you,” Buck commented.
“Oh, that’s Chomps,” she said, “He’s been following me around since the last press conference. Problem is, I have too busy a schedule to take care of a dog.”
“Well, I could see why he would want to follow around a pretty lady such as yourself,” Buck said a bit shyly.
“That’s so sweet,” the Fox News reporter replied, blushing.
“Maybe we could go get some coffee and I can tell you all about how I saved the world,” Buck suggested.
“I think I’d like that.”
The two of them then walked off.
“What about alcohol!” Rumsfeld called out. He then looked to the dog. “I guess it’s just me and you, Chomps. Know what? I’m suddenly feeling angry for no particular reason. What about you?”
“Erg-err!” Chomps growled angrily, and then ripped a metal folding chair apart with his teeth.
“I guess you and me are a lot alike,” Rumsfeld said, walking to the exit. Outside he saw a bunch of hippy protestors with anti-war signs. “Well, look-ee here. Maybe we should match their right to free speech with our initiative to kick ass.”
“Rah-grr!” Chomps said, not liking the sight of hippies.
“Hey, dog, no blood for oil!” one hippy yelled at Chomps.
Chomps’s whole body started shaking with anger. Rumsfeld was almost frightened the dog was going to explode. Suddenly, with a loud yell, Chomps jumped into the crowd of hippies, flying forward with his mouth wide open ready to bite.
“That’s a good dog,” Rumsfeld said with a smile, and then ran into the fray. “Rarr!”
THE END