“Nothing better than a day at the beach,” President Bush said as he waded in the water. “Well, maybe a barbecue is better. And I certainly like talking to myself as if to set the scene for some unknown observer.”
Suddenly, he felt something.
“What just brushed against my leg?” Bush demanded as he pulled out his .45 revolver. He then shot the large object he saw swimming past him. It soon exploded.
“You better explode if you’re going to touch me!” Bush yelled.
An aide yelled from shore, “You just stopped an Iranian missile attack!”
“Of course I did,” Bush responded. “I stop lot’s of things.” He paused for a moment. “Except for runaway spending and illegal immigrants.”

Bush had a meeting in his war room. “Clancy, you’re some sort of intelligence guy, right?”
“You don’t have the clearance for me to answer that,” said a man who may or may not have been named Clancy.
“Aren’t I cleared for everything?”
“You’re supposed to think that,” Clancy answered Bush.
“Can you at least tell me about Iranian weapons technology?”
“Again, you don’t have the clearance to know whether you’re allowed to know about Iranian weapons technology,” Clancy replied. “I will show you what we know about Iranian weapons technology, but do not construe it as an answer to whether you’re allowed to know about Iranian weapons technology. Understand.”
“Uh… not at all.”
“Excellent.” Clancy then showed some slides. “These are pictures of an Iranian underwater missile like President Bush encountered and destroyed. The Iranians also have a flying boat.”
“An underwater missile! A flying boat!” Bush exclaimed. “There is so way we can defend against that!” He turned to Condoleezza Rice. “I want you to draft a surrender to the Iranians. See if they’ll take Minnesota as a peace offering.”
“Bah!” Rumsfeld shouted out. “Back in my day, if the enemy got shinier toys, we’d just smash them with bats.”
“Brilliant idea!” Bush shouted. “Thinking like that is the reason I’ve yet to fire you! Let’s get some bats and smash things good!” Bush turned to Condi again. “Will this affect us diplomatically?”
“I’m tired of diplomacy,” Condi answered. “Let’s smash stuff!”
“How does Iranian weapons make you feel?” Rumsfeld asked his rottweiler Chomps.
Chomps growled and snapped at the air.
“It seems to make him angry… very angry,” Bush observed. “Well, let’s get to this. Cheney, you hold up shop while we’re gone. If anyone asks where we are, you shoot him in the face with a shotgun to change the subject.”
“Go @#$% yourself.”
“That’s my Cheney!”

“If the map Clancy gave us is correct, that’s the Iranian weapons research facility,” Bush said as he, Rumsfeld, Condi, and Chomps hid in the bushes and the darkness of night, bats at the ready. “We better move quick; they’re baseball bat-proofing their research tomorrow.”
“I see a security camera,” Condi remarked.
“Don’t worry; I have a plan,” Bush stated. He then walked up to the camera and smashed it with his bat. “My plan worked! Let roll!”
They charged into the building and began smashing everything they saw with bats as Chomps tore things apart with his teeth. “Smashy-smashy!” Bush yelled as he hit some computers.
When they were done trashing the place, Chomps coughed up a radiation warning label.
“I think he swallowed some plutonium,” Rumsfeld said. “That won’t settle his stomach well.”
“He just better not grow fifty-feet tall and destroy cities,” Bush declared.
A man then entered the room. “What’s going on here?!”
“It’s an Ayatollah!” Bush shouted. “Let’s smash him good!”
“Rarr!” Rumsfeld yelled as he charged the man.

“Iranian officials say that much of their research and numerous Ayatollahs were smashed in the attack,” the news anchor said. “Iranians say the crime was perpetrated by…”
Bush braced himself.
“…the Jews!”
Bush turned off the TV as he let out a sigh of the relief. “It’s good we have Jews around to take all the blame for everything.” He turned to an aide. “How are my poll numbers doing?”
“They’re down.”
Bush shook his fist in the air. “Jooooos!”