“I hit the chandelier! That’s a homerun!” Bush exclaimed as he ran to touch the chairs that marked the bases.
“Tourists!” Alberto Gonzales yelled, and everyone quickly ran to the sides as a tour group walked by.
“Game on!” Bush shouted when the tourists had passed by.
“Yay! I’m at bat!” Scott McClellan smiled as he picked up the stick.
“It’s Scott,” Alberto said, “Everyone move in closer.”
Before Condi could pitch, Laura Bush walked by. “Are you playing stickball in the White House again?” she screamed.
“Uh… no,” Bush said meekly.
“Well, I see a stick and a ball,” Laura said as she collected them. “Now I better not see you do this again or I’ll ground you to the Oval Office.”
After Laura walked off, Cheney came running over. “Amnesty International compared our Guantanamo Bay facility to a gulag!” he yelled angrily.
“Rarr!” Rumsfeld shouted as he burst through the wall, “Death to those who slander us!”
“That’s crazy!” Bush exclaimed, “The Soviets never had the technology to accurately shock terrorist gonads like we can today. Plus, didn’t gulags involve forced labor? The only thing these terrorists know how to make is bombs, and we can make those better ourselves. We need to come out forcefully against Amnesty International on this.”
“I can hold a press conference on this and…” Scott started to say, but Rumsfeld grabbed him.
“Rarr!” Rumsfeld yelled as he threw Scott through a closed window, “Talking is for sissies! Murderous action is called for!”
“Well, you are my trusted adviser, Rummy,” Bush said, “Plus, I’m quite scared of you hurting me. Let’s go with your plan.”
“I’ll come,” Cheney declared, “Doctor said murderousness is good for my heart.”
“How about you, Mexican Attorney General?” Bush asked Alberto.
“I already get to stab and beat people enough in my current job,” he answered, “I’m going to take a siesta now.”
“Can I come?” Condi asked hopefully.
“No, you’re Secretary of State and a girl,” Bush replied, “Go do something diplomatic.” Bush, Rumsfeld, and Cheney then walked off, all shouting, “No amnesty for Amnesty International!”
“Aww,” Condi whined, “I never get to have any fun since I’ve become Secretary of State.”

“It’s been decided that Belgium serves the U.S. no useful purpose,” Condi told the Belgium ambassador, “Thus I’m free to beat you with this stapler.”
“Not a Swingline!”
Laura burst into the room. “Dr. Rice, have you seen my husband?”
Condi put the stapler back on the table as the ambassador fled. “He was headed to the Amnesty International headquarters.”
“Was there murder in his eyes?” Laura asked suspiciously.
“Pretty much.”
Laura shook her fist. “I told him no more murderousness! He’s going to get such a talking to when he gets home!”

“Political dissidents imprisoned and beaten in Cuba,” the head of Amnesty International read aloud. He then tossed the memo away. “Boring!”
“Forced abortions and people executed for their religion in China.” He tossed the memo. “Who cares?”
“Massive starvation and human rights abuse in North Korea.” The memo was tossed. “Yawn.”
He looked at the next memo. “And this is just more hooey about oppression in the Middle East.”
The head of Amnesty International then spotted a memo that interested him. “A Koran was kicked by a prison guard at Guantanamo Bay!” He rose from his seat. “Mobilize all our forces! We must get justice for this!”
“The President, Vice President, and Secretary of Defense are here to see you,” said the secretary over the intercom, “Oh, and there appears to be murder in their eyes.”
“Don’t let them in!”
The doors burst open, and there stood Bush, Cheney, and Rumsfeld. Two aides approached them, but Rumsfeld swatted them aside.
“If you do anything to me,” the head of Amnesty International shouted, “All major news outlets will hear of it!”
“That’s the plan!” Rumsfeld growled, “I want everyone to know of the suffering of those who slander us! Your entrails will dangle for all to see!”
Rumsfeld approached the man with hands ready to rip him apart, but Bush grabbed Rumsfeld by the shoulder to stop him. “Actually, I have a better idea than murder.”
“No murder!” Rumsfeld exclaimed, “Are you becoming a fruit on me?”
“No, this is a good idea,” Bush smiled.

“Where are we?” the head of Amnesty International asked his aides.
“You are in Siberia,” answered a Russian voice, “You now take hammers and break down those large rocks over there.”
“But we’re cold!”
“Then I beat you with club until you are warm! Now break rocks!”

When Bush arrived back at the White House, Laura was waiting with an angry glare. “We’re you involved in more murderousness?” she accused.
“No, I came up with a non-murdering idea to deal with Amnesty International,” Bush said proudly, “I remembered that Putin is evil and probably reopened the gulags. Thus, I had the people from Amnesty International shipped to Siberia. If they survive, they’ll have to admit that Gitmo isn’t as bad as a gulag.”
“That’s very clever of you,” Laura said, “I’m quite proud.”
“Then can you take my stick and ball off the top of the fridge and give them back?”
“No!”