“…and that is why I should be reelected as president.” Bush paused for a moment. “Stop staring at me like that. I said stop staring at me like that! Rarr!” He then charged the cardboard cutout of John Kerry and smashed it to pieces with a baseball bat.
“You know, in the real debate, you won’t have a baseball bat,” Cheney told him.
“Just fists then?”
“Kerry specified there be no physical contact.”
“Not even checking? Man, I’m going to be at a disadvantage. At least it’s nice that my brother Jeb is letting me stay at his place while I’m visiting… just watch out for his daughter. She’ll steal your wallet and use the money to buy crack.”
Jeb Bush walked into the room. “Time to give your speech.”
“Okay, bro.” Bush walked out to greet the press waiting outside. “Hello, peoples of Florida. I know you just got hit by a hurricane and it sucks and stuff, but things will be all right. Let it be known that we’ll get your power back on and… oh, if you don’t have power, you’re probably not hearing this. If you have power, please find those who don’t and tell them that the president is here and everything is going to be fine.
“Oh, and one more thing. This was absolutely not my fault, so I don’t want you liberal crazies blaming it on me.”
“But Ted Kennedy has said this hurricane wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t so focused on Iraq,” said a reporter.
“That’s crazy. Hurricanes happened before we invaded Iraq, didn’t they?” Bush looked to Jeb for confirmation who nodded his head. “Yeah, so Kennedy is a bloated idiot. I don’t control hurricanes… though maybe Halliburton does.” Bush looked to Cheney who made a shushing motion. “Uh… forget that. Anyway, Governor Schwarzenegger is here to offer some words of support.”
Arnold stepped up to the podium. “What? You little weaklings cannot take a bit wind and rain? You are little girlie men! You are puny! I will crush you! I am Ah-nuld!”
“Thank you for your words of support,” Bush said as he took back the podium, “Now, I don’t have anymore time to talk – lots of presidential stuff to do. You all go away now. Shoo!” Bush fired a gun into the air and the press scattered.
“What do you have to do?” Jeb asked.
“I’m thinking of going to Disney World,” Bush answered.
“Mickey is a puny girlie mouse!” Arnold shouted, “I crush him! I am Ah-nuld!”
“Maybe we should go back to D.C.,” Cheney said, “I don’t know if it was a good idea leaving Rumsfeld in charge.”

“What’s this country? I never heard of it!” Rumsfeld yelled as he stared at the map of the world with contempt, “Let’s bomb it to be on the safe side.”
Condi folded up a classified document into a paper airplane and threw it across the room. “Whatever.”

“Come on, Cheney,” Bush beckoned, “I barely ever get to see my brother anymore. So what have you been up to, Jeb?”
“Well, I’ve been governor of Florida.”
“Wow! Really? Have I told you about how this weird Frenchman is trying to steal my job?”
“Yeah, I’ve heard about that.”
Bush glanced around him in a paranoid fashion. “I bet he’s plotting against me as we speak.”

“I can’t believe Bush is getting more publicity as a leader by flying to Florida,” John Kerry fumed, “I’ve been in hurricanes before, but I don’t get any credit. I was on the Florida Keys during hurricane Andrew. The event was seared – seared – into my memory.”
“Actually, sir,” Kerry’s butler interrupted, “You were in Cape Cod during hurricane Andrew.”
“Yes, I remember Cape Cod distinctly. It’s seared – seared – into my memory.”
“We need a plan to defeat Bush. Yessss,” Terry McAuliffe hissed.
“I have one in effect,” Kerry said, “the movie The Manchurian Candidate gave me an idea. Now we can destroy the Bush White House from the inside. And, if this plan doesn’t work, I’ll just find a richer wife. Muh ha ha ha!”

“So was ‘what’s its name’ bombed?” Rumsfeld asked.
“I dunno,” Condi said as she made another paper airplane. It sailed across the room until Chomps jumped up and snatched it. He then savagely tore it to pieces.
Scott McClellan then walked into the room. “Where have you been?” Rumsfeld demanded.
“I have been engaged in normal conservative Republican activities,” Scott answered in a monotone voice.
“Well go give your press conference to those annoying reporters,” Rumsfeld commanded.
“That I will do. And I will say nothing surprising during the aforementioned press conference.” Scott then left the room.
“Did something seem different about him?” Condi asked.
“I don’t like any conversations that don’t involve war,” Rumsfeld answered curtly.
Chomps stared in the direction of Scott. Something was making him angry, but he couldn’t tell what.

“Aww! You and Arnold trashed my place!” Jeb griped.
“You place is puny! I crush it!” Arnold answered.
“Quiet, guys,” Bush said, “Scott is about to give the daily press briefing. I need to watch this so I’m a responsible president and Cheney will give me a cookie.”
“I have a few announcements to make,” Scott told the press, “The Iraq war was a mistake and done only for oil. Bush actually funded Osama bin Laden himself so he could have excuses for war.”
Bush pulled out his Halliburton approved talking points. “Hey! Those aren’t the talking points!”
“Also, Bush is firing Colin Powell and Condoleezza Rice because he hates black people.”
“That’s only half true!” Bush shouted at the screen, “Scott’s gone crazy. Someone has to stop him!”

“So who has been setting Bush’s foreign policy?” a reporter asked.
“A Zionist conspiracy, just as all the crazy Muslims suspected,” Scott answered.
“Why are you telling us this now?”
“Because Bush knows that he has no chance against John Kerry, who, by the way, served in Vietnam, while Bush himself was AWOL from his National Guard service, spending time making ties with Saudi oil interests that dictate his actions now.”
“It all comes together!” exclaimed a reporter, “But what is that dog that is charging you?”
Chomps jumped the podium and tore it to pieces. He then barked savagely at the press until they fled. Finally, he grabbed Scott by the leg and started shaking him.
When Chomps dropped him, Scott shook his mind out of the trance. “What was I saying? The Kerry campaign must have brainwashed me! Thanks for snapping me out of it, Chomps. I know you’re just a dog, but…”
Chomps grabbed Scott by the leg again and shook him some more.
“AHHH!”

The phone rang. “Condi, get that,” Rumsfeld called out.
“You’re the secretary.”
Rumsfeld growled and then picked up the phone. “What do you want?”
“It’s Dubya. Have you been watching T.V.?”
“T.V. is a fad! I never traded my radio in for one of those.”
“Whatever. I need to bomb some of Kerry’s houses in retaliation.”
“Which ones?”
“I dunno… pick two.”

“What’s that sound, Jeeves?” Kerry asked.
“Sounds like laser guided bombs, sir.”
The house then blew up around them. Kerry stood up and shook his fist at the fighter jets. “Do you know who I am? I served in Vietnam!” He then noticed Teresa Heinz coming up the driveway. “Jeeves, you take the blame for this.”
Kerry’s butler sighed. “Certainly, sir.”

“So the Kerry campaign kidnapped me and brainwashed me, thus making me say all those things in that last press conference – none of which were true. The reason there is a cast on my leg is because Rumsfeld’s dog shook me by it to break me out of the trance. He then shook me for two more hours straight because he is a mean, psychotic dog. Finally, Bush blew up two of Kerry’s houses in retaliation. All standard stuff. So, are there any questions?”
“I have one about Abu Ghraib.”
Scott shook his head. “Can’t you guys finally give that up!?”