The hooded figure of Karl Rove emerged from the shadows. “Bush, I look at your poll numbers, and I see but darkness and foreboding.”
“I guess I won’t be reelected then,” Bush chuckled as he sat at his desk, “Now, do you want to bet how many Twinkies I can stuff in my mouth at once?”
“Your poll numbers must be a shining beacon that continues to lead the Republicans,” Rove told him, “You must improve them. And, when you rode bikes with Lance Armstrong and kicked him into a tree, that did not help.”
“It’s not my fault he didn’t ask what the rules to our bike race was!” Bush answered indignantly, “The important thing was I won!”
“Still, it played poorly with the masses.”
“Well, if someone is so dumb they don’t like me, I don’t want them liking me,” Bush asserted.
“I AM YOUR MASTER!” Rove thundered as the windows in the room shattered, “YOU WILL DO AS I SAY!”
“Fine,” Bush groaned.
“Mick of Jagger has a song exposing our evil neocon cabal,” Rove stated, “He must be silenced.”
“No problem.” Rove faded back into the shadows, and Bush looked to the door to his office. “Scott!”
The White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan came running. “What do you need, Mr. President?”
“Kill Mick Jagger.”
“Uh… first off, I’m a Press Secretary – I don’t kill people. Second, what you’re asking is highly illegal and immoral… actually, that should be my first point…”
Bush picked up a baseball bat and waved it over his head. “You do it now and stop being such a baby. Once you do it, I’ll pardon you which will make it both legal and moral. Now get going before I get swinging!”
“Okay! Okay!” Scott shouted in fear as he ran away.
“Once he does it, I’ll just say he never worked here and I never heard of him. Muh ha ha ha!” Bush laughed evilly to himself.
Rumsfeld came barging in the office followed by his dog Chomps who was biting angrily at the air around him. “Senator Hagel compared my war to Vietnam!” Rumsfeld yelled in rage, “That’s outrageous! I will win this war and not chicken out because of noisy hippies! I want Hagel’s head on a pike.”
“No more heads on pikes, Rummy,” Bush answered, “Hagel will be here soon, but I will handle this my way. Just follow my lead.”
Hagel came into the Oval Office. “What do you want? I have numerous press appearances to make.”
“Help me lift my desk, Rummy,” Bush said as he lifted one side and Rumsfeld lifted the other.
“Can’t you move your furniture later?” Hagel asked angrily.
“Heave ho!” Bush yelled, and they flung the desk at Hagel so it landed upside down on top of him, Hagel’s legs the only thing sticking out beneath it.
“There, problem solved,” Bush said triumphantly.
“Back in my day, we didn’t solve problem through such complicated means as throwing a desk on someone,” Rumsfeld grumbled.
“Well, this is how we do things in modern times,” Bush answered.
Condoleezza Rice appeared at the door. She looked down at the desk. “Did you kill Hagel?”
“Maybe,” Bush answered, “His leg is twitching, though.”
Chomps started attacking the twitching leg.
“You might get in trouble for this,” Condi cautioned, “Hagel is a Vietnam vet with Purple Hearts.”
“I never got the point of Purple Hearts,” Bush stated, “In lots of videogames I’ve played, you get awarded if you don’t get hurt. Maybe we should do that in the military.”
“I think you should call an ambulance, though,” Condi suggested.
“I would, but my phone was on the desk.”
“All this talk is boring me!” Rumsfeld growled, “Let’s go declare a new war.”
“Nah, let’s go bowling instead,” Bush said, “I think there’s a bowling alley somewhere in this place… and a haunted cupboard!”
“Fine, let’s look for it,” Condi answered, “Shouldn’t you still be in Crawford, though?”
“People kept bothering me there,” Bush replied as he walked on top of the overturned desk, “I figured the White House was a better place to hide.”
They all left the Oval Office, Chomps trotting after them. “Will somebody help me?” Hagel squeaked from under the desk.
An apparition appeared. “I am the ghost of Nixon,” it announced in an unearthly voice.
“Are you a friendly ghost?” Hagel asked hopefully.
It just laughed.