The left wingers were scampering through the forest and soon saw their prey. "It's McCain's new VP pick Sarah Palin," one said. "Let's get her!"

Palin stood assuming in an open field, and the left wingers were soon upon her. "You're inexperienced!" one shouted.

"You've barely been in politics!" said another.

"It was irresponsible of McCain to pick someone as unexperienced as you as a running mate!" shrieked another.

"So it would be better for her to be at the top of ticket?" asked a familiar voice from behind.

"IT'S A TRAP!" one of the left wingers shouted, but it was too late. The ground gave out beneath them and they all fell into a pit.

"Now we're trapped!" a left-winger cried.

"And you brought me with you!" Barack Obama yelled angrily as he sat on the floor of the pit.

"Aww, how could we fall for such an obvious trap?" one left-winger whined.

"It must have been Rove!" one shouted. "I thought I heard him."

"You're 'The One'!" a left-winger said to Obama. "You can get us out of here!"

"I've never held a real job in my entire life!" Obama said. "I don't know how to do anything useful!"

"Muh ha ha ha!" laughed the hooded figure of Karl Rove who stared down at them from above.

"Could you throw down something to help us up?" Obama asked.

"Yessss," Rove hissed, "I can throw down some... FLESH EATING BEETLES!"

The group screamed as giant beetles rained upon them.

"What do we do!" one cried.

"I know!" said another. "We can yell misogynistic things at Palin! That's bound to help us!"

"Good idea," Obama said. "Let's do it quickly."

One of the left-wingers looked up. "Uh... she has a moose rifle... and I'm pretty sure she knows how to use it."

"Oh," Obama said. "Then let's wait on that."

"So now I reveal my awesome pick for running mate," Barack Obama told the assembled crowd. "Joe Biden."

There was silence and some coughing from the audience.

"I will remind you that I am Obama -- the One -- and everything I do is perfect and should not be questioned!"

The crowd cheered enthusiastically for Biden. "You're the best, Obama!" one of the reporters yelled.

"I just want to say that Turok Osama here is very clean and articulate for a black man." Biden patted Obama on the head. "I think he's a great candidate -- not as good as McCain -- but still pretty good."

"Why did you wait until 3 AM to send the announcement text message?" a reporter asked.

"Well, I started working on it at 6 PM," Obama said, "but those text messages are hard. I mean, like each number represents three or four letters... and I forget how you do the punctuation. But, hey eventually I got that message out. And that's the determination I plan to bring to my presidency... to hit buttons until things get done!"

"Isn't Bocka Yo'Mama precious! Just look at those ears!" Biden flicked one of Obama's ears.

"Did you pick Biden to fill your experience gap?" a reported.

"I don't have an experience gap!" Obama answered indignantly.

"Blasphemer!" another member of the press yelled at the reporter.

"But Biden does have more experience at the... uh... stuff with... er... countries that aren't ours..."

"Foreign policy," Biden assisted.

"See, he knows that stuff."

"What do you have experience at?" the reporter asked.

"Well... uh... today I made myself a sandwich."

"We ate at Subway," Biden said.

"Where I told them exactly what I wanted on my sandwich which is a lot like making it!"

"You didn't like your sandwich."

"Shut up!"

"So who do you think McCain will pick as his VP?"

"Certainly no one as good as Biden," Obama said.

"Certainly no one with my IQ," Biden scoffed. "Hopefully he'll not be dumb enough to pick Jindal who right now is finding out that running a state government isn't anything like running a 7-11."

"So... uh... do you think that Biden's gaffes may be a problem," a reporter asked.

"It's well documented that Biden's brain trails his mouth. For instance, his brain his still probably processing what he had for breakfast while his mouth is reacting to things now, but that's something we can deal with."

"Did you guys see the Olympics." He stretched his eyes with his fingers. "Want to see my imitation of the Chinese?"

"That's okay," Obama told him. He turned back to the press. "Anyway, Biden should help with our down to earth image. By the way, did you see how many houses McCain has?" He chuckled. "I bet he doesn't even know the price of organic arugula since he always sends his servants to Whole Foods to pick it up for him. I've only done that a couple times."

"You think Biden will connect with middle America?" a reporter asked.

"Of course I will, idiot!" Biden yelled. "Except with those gun owners. They're all deranged! We need to lock them all up!" He thought for a moment. "But if I try to lock them up, they may shoot me. I'll need to poison them while they sleep. Yeah, that's it: We need to poison gun owners."

"Uh... remember... he knows a lot about foreign policy!" Obama tried to say cheerily.

"We should write to check of $200 million to al Qaeda. Maybe then they'll like us!" Biden said.

"You want to give money to terrorists?" an incredulous reporter asked.

"I graduated twice as Valedictorian from my high school!" Biden shouted. "Don't you question me!"

"Could you shut up!" Obama said to him angrily. "I never wanted you as my running mate! I wanted Sebelius! I was told I needed you for your experience!"

"Yeah, weren't you only eleven when I first entered the Senate, Ongo Bongo?" Biden laughed. "You were just a little knee-biter then. And now look at you." Biden looked at Obama for a moment. "You kinda look like a monkey." Biden turned to the press. "Doesn't he look like a monkey? I mean, they say Bush looks like a monkey, but I think Yamaha is even more monkey-like." A thought seemed to strike Biden. "I'm not saying that because he's black, though; I'm saying it because of his monkey features."

Obama sighed. "I think we're done for now."

"Thank you for being here," Rick Warren said.

"Uh... er.. you're... um... welcome," Barack Obama answered with nervous looks to the audience.

"First question: What is your name?"

"My name is... um... Barry... uh... I mean Barack... um... Obama." Obama looked quite flustered. "McCain isn't getting these questions ahead of time, is he?"

Warren shook his head. "No, he's in the cone of silence. Now here's the next question: When does life begin?"

"Um... er... I don't... uh... that questions is... um... above my pay grade."

"So you don't know when life begins?"

"I... um... don't know lots of things."

"Well, let's go with more specific examples, then. A ten-year-old: Would you say he's alive and fully human?" Warren asked.

"Yes, I guess I would... um... probably say that a ten-year-old is a person."

"Okay. How about a five-year-old?"

"Well... uh... they go to... um... kindergarten, right? So... um... if you go to a... um... government funded school... uh... you'd probably have to be a... um... person."

"What about a two-year-old?"

"Well... uh... now we're getting into a bit of a gray area." Obama could see the audience was a bit cold to him. "Now... uh... I know some people... um... are wondering about my... uh... vote on the... uh... Born Alive Act, but... um... I want to assure you that... uh... I am not for... um... infanticide. I just won't... um... stop those who are... uh... and I may ask for... um... government funding for them."

The audience stared at Obama with disbelief.

Obama stretched his collar. "You sure McCain won't get these questions ahead of time?"

Warren looked insulted by the question. "No one can defeat the cone of silence!"

* * * *

John McCain sat within the center of the cone of silence staring at its bare, white walls. There was no sound. He was truly isolated. "Rick Warren may think his cone of silence is impenetrable," McCain said to himself, "but he underestimates the power of DARK REPUBLICAN MAGIC!" McCain began to summon forth the Dark Powers. "Satan, Cthulhu, Skeletor... hear my call! Show me what lies beyond!"

A dark cloud swirled before McCain revealing the stammering Barack Obama. "Muh ha ha ha!" McCain laughed. "Now I'll know all the questions beforehand! GOP minions, can you hear me?"

"Yes, sir, we can hear you," answered a minion, "and we're running each question Rick Warren is asking through a building full of supercomputers to determine that absolute best answer for each. You'll be so prepared for this interview that in comparison they'll want to send Obama home on a short bus."

McCain tapped his fingertips together. "Excellent. I see Warren is asking a question on faith. I'm going to tell a story of a Vietnamese guarding drawing a cross in the sand. Make sure that other people will back me up; brainwash them if necessary."

"If you're going to make up a story," the minion said, "why not have it be about you doing something Christian?"

"Bah!" McCain shouted. "I'm the master of evil! Don't question my methods! We should just feel lucky those meddling Kos Kids haven't found out that I was never a POW and spent the Vietnam War at the North Pole punching baby seals in the face."

McCain watched as Obama stammered in response to more questions. "So, what did you guys do to him to make him look so stupid?"

"We didn't do anything."

"Hmm. Maybe we're putting too much effort into this."

"You get out of Georgia! That's where we make Coca Cola!" President Bush yelled at Putin.

"That's a different Georgia, man of stupid brain," Putin answered. "Georgia is its own country."

"What? Did they secede again? Is it over slavery? If so, screw 'em."

"You can do nothing to Russia," Putin laughed. "Your country is weak."

"We are totally not!" Bush yelled. "You take that back, Dobby!"

"We will see how you do at game, then we will see if you have power to back up your threats."

"Yeah, we will see!" Bush sat back down next to Laura to watch women's beach volleyball.

"You need to calm down and enjoy the games," Laura said.

"I can't calm down. We have to show strength to the Russian!" He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted. "Hit it in bounds, you stupid sluts!"

"You're a bit tightly wound," Laura said. "You need to relax."

"I can't! The Russians are causing trouble and I just know that the Chinese are up to something. I'm going to send the Secret Service to check the rafters of our room for ninjas."

"Again?" Laura exclaimed. "If you were going to be so worried about ninjas here, you never should have come."

"I didn't know before I came here how often I'd think I see ninjas up in the trees," Bush responded. "Also, I'm pretty sure every place around here is haunted."

"That's just because everything here is built on the mass graves of dissidents and homeless people," Laura said. "Stop worrying."

"But the homeless are good haunters!" Bush exclaimed. "They're use to have no fixed place to exist!" He looked back to the game. "Why can't you bitches keep it in bounds?!"

"Your country is weak!" Putin yelled.

"Just wait until you see Michael Phelps swim!" Bush retorted. He then whispered to Laura, "I hear he's the illegitimate son of Aquaman."

"I thought Aquaman is gay?"

"You shut up!" Bush yelled angrily. A secret service agent walked up to them. "I got your hot dog."

"Goody!" Bush unwrapped it. He was startled to see chopsticks came with it. "What in the world is this? I bet it's some sort of Chinese death threat!"

"If you're so worried that the Chinese led us here just to kill us all, why don't you ask them about it," Laura suggested.

"I did! They told me that if they're planning to kill us all, that their internal affairs and no concerns of ours." He turned to his Secret Service agent. "I don't trust the Chinese. If you see any Chinese around me, you kill them."

"Just watch the game, dear," Laura said.

"Okay." Bush watched the game for a few moments. "Why can't you hussies keep it in the blue line?!"

"Russia has nothing to fear from weak Americans!" Putin laughed.

"Rarr!" Bush growled. "I should have known the Russians were going to be warmongering from all the Tom Clancy videogames I've played."

"According to those, how do things turn out in the end?" Laura asked.

"We all die. Repeatedly. They were very hard games." Bush took a deep breath. "I bet I know how the Chinese are going to kill us. It's the air. They've poisoned the air, and a couple weeks of breathing it will cause us to drop dead soon after we get back."

Luara rolled here eyes. "That one we knew before coming." She looked back to the game. "Keep it in bounds, you whores!"

"On today's agenda," Dick Cheney announced at the meeting of Big Oil, "Evil!"

"We should raise prices again!" Skeletor suggested.

"Excellent!" Cheney said. "Anymore ideas for evil?"

"We should propose drilling in more national parks," Black Manta stated. "How about Disney World?"

"Great idea," Cheney said. "But there is still the problem of Barack Obama. Let's face it: We're no match for his hope and change."

"I can handle him," Lex Luthor remarked. He held up a strange looking device. "This is my new shrink ray I've perfected. With it we can shrink Barack Obama down to miniature size."

Cheney touch his fingertips together and smiled with glee. "And then we can place him in our pocket!"

"Robble robble robble!" the Hamburglar agreed.

"Muh ha ha ha!"

* * * *

Obama played with toy trucks in a sandbox. "I'm going to be a fireman when I grow up!" he exclaimed.

Cheney wearing a mustache disguise approached Obama. He held out a wad of bills. "I have a campaign contribution for you if you come with me."

"Ooh!" Obama exclaimed. He reached for the bills, but then he took a long look at Cheney. "Something seems to be suspicious about you."

"I also have a lollipop for you." Cheney held up a Tootsie Roll.

"Yay!" Obama ran to follow Cheney.

* * * *

"So, in conclusion, real hope and change means letting the oil companies drill wherever they want and randomly raise prices for no reason," Obama told the press. "Also, we should destroy all alternative energy cars with hammers and fire. This is what I support, and what I've always supported."

"Should we conclude anything by the fact that you're giving this speech from Dick Cheney's front pocket?" a reporter asked.

"You're a racist!" Obama responded.

"Robble robble robble!" the Hamburglar agreed.

"Drill! Drill!" President Bush shouted as the people put together the drilling equipment.

"What are you doing in my house?" Harry Reid demanded as he walked up to Bush.

"I lifted the ban on off-shore drilling, and I'm starting with your house," Bush said.

"My house isn't off-shore!"

Bush shrugged. "I was going to move your house off shore and then drill it, but that seemed excessive."

"Why do you want to drill my house?!"

"Because I hate you, stupid." Bush punched Reid in the face, knocking him to the ground. "You're stupid!"

"I'll get you for this!" Reid ran off.

"And do what? Get me thrown out of office within a year? Lower my approval ratings." Bush chuckled and made a call on his cell phone. "How's the drilling in San Francisco going? ...Well, if any hippies start to give you trouble, just drill in their heads... Of course it's legal. I told you you could do it, so it's legal!" Bush hung up the phone and walked over to Dick Cheney. "So do you think we'll strike oil soon?"

"With all the drilling we're doing, it's inevitable," Cheney said. "And then we'll steal it and watch the puny humans suffer!"

"No!" Bush yelled. "We're supposed to get more oil so the American people will love me again and burn Democrats in tribute to me."

"Halliburton was under the assumption this was an evil, no-bid drilling contract," Cheney explained. "If you want them not to be evil, that costs extra."

"How much extra?"

"Twenty percent."

Bush thought about that. "That's too much. Well, if the American people really are going to elect Obama, I guess they deserve to suffer."

"Whatever. I'm way passed the point of feeling I need to justify my action." Cheney rubbed his hands together greedily. "I love evil!"

Bush shrugged. "Evil is alright. Time to try and explain things to the press."

Cheney continued to watch the drilling equipment. "Puppets are in the car."

* * * *

"Obama is such a tool. I want to cut his nuts off."

"Uh... the mike is on," one of the reporters said.

"Why do you think I'm reading the teleprompter?" Bush shouted in response. He looked back to the prompter. "But enough about Obama's nuts; I'm here to talk about drilling. People don't like high gas prices, so the obvious thing to do is drill for more oil. Anyone who whines about gas prices and isn't for drilling is a stupid annoying person who should be drilled in the head -- maybe by one of those flying silver sphere things from the horror movie Phantasm. Did you see that? Anyway, we should make those and release them at the Democrat National Convention. That would be fun." Bush stared at the screen for a second. "I guess that's all I wrote. Any questions?"

"Are you going to drill in ANWR?" a reporter asked.

"Why wouldn't we? Who would stop us? Moose? Eskimos? We can handle them. I'm thinking we'll also drill in Canada. I hear they have oil there and they don't have any use for it because they're not technologically advanced enough."

"Will we be drilling in Iraq?"

Bush looked confused. "There's oil there?"

"What about research into alternative fuels," another reporter asked.

"I have a clock that runs on a potato," Bush said. "It's pretty neat."

"I mean how about paying others to do research into alternative fuel?"

"Oh. Well, we're doing that. The drill we're using in Yellowstone runs on ethanol. With research like that, we'll be able to continue to drill for oil even if we run out of oil."

"What about alternative fuels for cars?"

"It's has always been the position of my administration that that is gay." He checked his watch. "I'm getting tired of this. Is my presidency over yet?"

SUPREME COURT OF THE UNITED STATES
_________________
No. 07–290
_________________
DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA, ET AL., PETITIONERS v.
DICK ANTHONY HELLER
ON WRIT OF CERTIORARI TO THE UNITED STATES COURT OF
APPEALS FOR THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA CIRCUIT
[June 26, 2008]

JUSTICE SCALIA delivered the opinion of the Court.

We consider whether a District of Columbia prohibition on the possession of usable handguns in the home violates the Second Amendment to the Constitution.

We turn first to the meaning of the Second Amendment.

The Second Amendment provides: “A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.” The two sides in this case have set out very different interpretations of the Amendment. Petitioners and today’s dissenting Justices believe that it protects only the right to possess and carry a firearm in connection with militia service. See Brief for Petitioners 11–12; post, at 1 (STEVENS, J., FLAMING HOMO, dissenting). Respondent argues that it protects an individual right to possess a firearm unconnected with service in a militia, and to use that arm for traditionally lawful purposes, such as self-defense within the home. See Brief for Respondent 2–4.

Having basic reading comprehension and not having our heads shoved up our asses, we agree with the latter. Furthermore, we have determined that anyone who agrees with the D.C. law is a little preening little nancy and should be beaten or shot for being a pinko. See Findings on the Tiny Penises of Gun Haters. More specifically, everyone in D.C. should immediately be given a gun, and anyone who protests should be shot in the groin, shot in the face, and then shot in the groin once more for good measure. Then their houses should be burned down. We'll make a weekend of it. I'll bring beer. See video from last year's Supreme Kegger.

Guns are awesome. See any action movie. America is awesome. Therefore, anyone against guns is against America, and people against America should be injured and forcefully ejected from the country. See Ronald Reagan's Treatise on Dealing with Hippies. In this spirit, I've shot dead the four dissenting Justices and buried them out back. See suspicious mounds of dirt behind the Supreme Court. This makes this now a unanimous 5-0 decision, and Justice Kennedy smartly lives another day.

The issue of incorporation was not brought before the Court, but out next step will be to grab our guns, form a posse, and head to Chicago. The citizens are disarmed, so they will be easy pickings and their stereos will become mine. See the barrel of my gun. I shall kill Mayor Daley and place his head upon a pike in the town square as an example to others. Usually the execution of laws falls on the Executive Branch, but I have the summer off and it sounds like fun.

* * *

We are aware of the problem of handgun violence in this country, and we take seriously the concerns raised by the many sissies and fascists who believe that prohibition of handgun ownership is a solution. Because we take their concerns seriously is why I kill them. The Constitution leaves the District of Columbia a variety of tools for combating that problem, including the non-fascist kind, but the enshrinement of constitutional rights necessarily takes certain policy choices off the table unless you want my boot up your ass. These include the absolute prohibition of handguns held and used for self-defense in the home. Undoubtedly some think that the Second Amendment is outmoded in a society where our standing army is the pride of our Nation, where well-trained police forces provide personal security, and where gun violence is a serious problem. I will find these people and kill them, or my name isn't Anthony "The Bull" Scalia.

It is so ordered.

Barack Obama was alone in the playground playing with some blocks. "Now that that mean lady is gone, I'm gonna be pesident," he said to himself.

Mahmoud Ahmadinejad slowly crept near him. "Hello, little Barry."

Obama waved at him enthusiastically. "Hi! I'm Barack Obama, and I've been in the Senate..." He held up three fingers. "...this many years and now I'm gonna be pesident."

"I heard!" Mahmoud sat down next to him. "So what are you up to?"

Obama stacked some more blocks. "I'm building a prison for all the mean people who don't want to pay for universal healthcare and own guns."

"It looks nice. Anyway, I think we should go somewhere and talk." Mahmoud pointed to his van parked next the playground.

Obama suddenly became cautious. "My campaign manager said I'm not supposed to talk to dictators."

"That's crazy!" Mahmoud said. "I'm the democratically elected president of Iran. Shouldn't you be able to talk to a leader of a country like me."

Obama was hesitant. "I dunno."

"And we both want American out of Iraq... I just work towards that end more actively. Shouldn't we talk so we can better combine our energies to achieve a goal we both want."

"Maybe... but my campaign manager told me..."

"And I lost my puppy and need your help finding him," Mahmoud told him.

"Your puppy! Oh no! Where did you lose him?"

"Israel took him!" Mahmoud narrowed his eyes. "I will wipe them off the map."

Obama was cautious again. "I really think I'm supposed to stay here."

"But I have candy!"

"Yay! Candy!" Obama screamed as he scampered off towards Mahmoud's van.

* * * *

"This just in: Senator Barack Obama has made a deal with Mahmoud Ahmadinejad to cut off all ties with Israel in exchange for five candy bars," the anchorman said.

"I heard Ahmadinejad tried to only give him only four candy bars," the anchorwoman commented, "but Obama negotiated him up to five. He is so shrewd. I just love him so much. I want to give myself to him sexually."

The anchorman nodded. "Me too. I bet he has soft hands. Anyway, John McCain, who I remind you is very old, was quick to condemn Obama's diplomacy, calling Obama a 'little whippersnapper' and told him and all his buddies to stay off his lawn."

"I guess he doesn't like black people," the anchorwoman added.

The anchorman nodded again. "He is a Republican."

"Babies are the greatest threat facing society today," the NARAL spokeswoman said. "Compare the number of people affected by the actions of supposed terrorists versus those affected by crying, screaming babies. Worst yet, think of those forced to care for these parasites. That's why NARAL stands for the destruction of all babies, and why we are proud to give our nomination to one of the biggest baby opponents, Barack Obama."

There was applause as Obama took the stage. "Thank you. This has been an important issue for me for a long time. At first, I had attended feminist rallies and was confused at what lesbians needed abortions for, but now I understand this is not about the women and the abortions -- this is about the plight on this nations that are babies. No one has committed a crime so foul that she should be punished with a baby, so I seek a permanent end to this punishment.

"Do not think I came upon the conclusion that we must eliminate babies with little thought. I spent much time talking to my spiritual mentor about the subject."

* * * *

"Jeremiah, do you think Jesus would be against abortions," Obama asked Jeremiah Wright.

"Who?"

"You know... the guy from the Bible."

"The what? I don't got time for your jibber-jabber, half-cracker. I have a gay marriage to preside over."

* * * *

"It has become clear to me that babies are a problem we must fight now -- not later," Obama continued. "They are a threat wherever they hide, and I warn everyone that I will make no distinction between the babies and those who harbor them. The time of babies is over. Can we hope to change the world to a place without babies? Yes we can. Yes. We. Can."

Hillary Clinton ran onto the stage, "You're giving him the endorsement! But I've been trying to kill babies for longer than he has! I was the first one to figure how to store their souls for later feasting!"

"Boo!" the crowd shouted. "Go hang out with your baby-loving hillbillies in West Virginia!"

"You'll all pay for this!" Hillary screeched. "You'll all pay! I'll see you all with babies!" She cackled as she ran off.

"That woman is scary," Obama said. "Anyway, I find one of the best ways to kill a baby is to get a corkscrew and..."

Senator Barack Obama has a some very introspective remarks for his concession speech after losing by 41 points in the West Virginia primary:

"Do you not see the flag pin, you inbred, hillbilly retards?! I wore a @#$% flag pin for you mouth breathers! I broke my campaign's only strongly held principle -- not being patriotic -- for you! My friends won't even look at me when I have it on. I even found Ayers trying to put a bomb on my car. What more do you want from me?

"Is it because I'm black? Is that why you @#$% crackers won't vote for me? Now I know why my wife hates America. Well, you better hope I don't get the presidency, because I will install Ray Nagin as ruler of West Virginia and he will chocolatize your state. When you bitterly head to church on Sunday, you'll find Wright preaching there about how God wants us to kill honkeys.

"So go pluck your banjos while you can, white trash. And does anyone want a flag pin? I don't have any use for it anymore."

"I hate crackers!"

"Yes, I know," Barack Obama told Jeremiah Wright. "So does everyone else, so now its time to throw you under the bus."

Obama Secret Service agents picked up Wright and prepared to toss him under the bus. "But I married you! I baptized your kids!"

"And I appreciate that. Say hi to my grandma when you're under the bus."

"But I hate that cracker!" Wright said just before being tossed under the bus.

"Now I need to just clear this up with the press." Obama walked over and stood up on a podium just as the press was assembling. "I was unaware that Jeremiah Wright was a crazy man," he told them. "This is something I've just become aware of... and not something I ignored previously for political expediency. I totally just found out about it now."

"So you had no idea in all the time he was your spiritual mentor?" a reporter asked.

"When all the time he advised me about the evil crackers," Obama said, "I thought he was referring to Ritz crackers. I only recently found out how rich and buttery they are -- quite the opposite of evil."

"But didn't you quote Wright ranting about 'white greed' in your book Dreams from My Father?" another reporter asked.

"I've never read that book," Obama answered. "Far as I know, that book is full of extremism, and I condemn it."

"But... you wrote it."

"Someone named Barack Obama wrote it; that's a very common name. Any other questions."

"Since before you said you couldn't disown Wright anymore than you could disown the black community," a reporter said, "are you now disowning the black community?"

Obama shrugged. "I guess. I never particularly cared for black people, especially now that I finally found out what they are like since Wright gave those interviews."

"So you really never saw any crazy extremism in the twenty years you went to Trinity?" a reporter asked.

"Well... I'm secretly a Muslim," Obama replied. "Every time I attended a service at Trinity, the whole time I was not paying attention as I was trying to figure out what direction Mecca was so I could pray towards it."

"So are we to believe--"

"I think it's one of those Mecca praying times," Obama interrupted. "So I'm going to have to go now and do whatever it is Muslims do."

Michelle Obama walked on stage and asked Barack, "You done talking to those crackers? Why do you even want to be president of this country? I hate it!"

Obama looked back to the press. "By the way, also due to things I've just suddenly become aware of, I'm getting a divorce."

NOTE: This is an IMAO projection of what a Barack Obama presidency could be like.

President Obama was eating his morning waffles. "I sure love waffles," he said to no one in particular.

His aide rushed into the room. "Sir, Iran has--"

"Why can't I just eat my waffle?" Obama asked angrily.

"Sir, there is a crisis and--"

"Can you not see the waffle I am eating? You will wait until my waffle is gone to talk to me! I'm the president!"

"Yes, sir."

Obama took another bite. "I sure love waffles. I guess its the shape I like best. The waffle shape."

"Maybe you should just eat your waffles instead of talking about them so we can get to business," the aide suggested.

"Don't tell me how to eat my waffles!" Obama screamed. "I'm the president!" He then muttered to himself, "Dumb cracker." He looked back to the waffles. "Mmm... waffles!"

"We have an economic problem," Barack Obama told a crowd in Pennsylvania, "and the way to handle it is--"

"You're not wearing any pants!" someone in the crowd yelled out.

Obama looked as angry as he was pantsless. "That has nothing to do with the important issues people care about such as the economy and healthcare. It is a distraction to bring that up."

"But shouldn't you have pants?" another asked. "I mean, you have the suit jacket and everything up top, but you only have boxers on down below."

"This is the problem with you people," Obama said. "You keep getting distracted by non-issues. If you would just think for a minute, you'd realize your whole moral stick up on people needing to wear pants had nothing to do with the real problems affecting you. It's quite sad; I was just telling my rich friends in San Francisco how I knew something like this would happen."

"Did you forget to wear pants?" one of the crowd inquired.

Michelle Obama ran onto to stage and pointed an accusing finger at the crowd. "This is why I hate America! THIS IS WHY I HATE AMERICA!!"

"It's okay dear." Obama gently ushered her off stage. "I can handle this." He turned to the crowd once more. "The Republicans want you to be distracted by this. They want you worrying whether people are wearing pants or not instead of whether you have jobs or access to hospitals. If you people were only a little smarter, you could see this."

"I really think you should be wearing pants," one person answered.

"I can't help you people." He stormed off stage.

* * * *

President Bush sat in bed with his wife watching the Obama speech. "I don't get it," Bush said. "The Democrats have spent eight years complaining about how I'm all stupid or something, so you'd think they'd nominate someone smart."

"Well, the Democrats aren't smart, dear."

Bush thought about that. "Oh yeah. Guess they wouldn't know what smart actually looks like."

"Our biggest threat is Al Qaeda," Barack Obama told a crowd of supporters. "We need to go after them, and Al Qaeda is not in Ir-... wait... um... that's not right... uh... the key Al Qaeda leadership is not in Iraq. That's the ticket! So, no reason for us to be in Iraq."

"But if we leave Iraq, won't the leadership set up base there?" a supporter asked.

"No... um... because... of the... uh... the violent Shiites there who will kill all of them."

"Then don't we have to worry about the Shiites?" another person in the audience asked.

"No... because... um... they'll all eventually be... um... eaten by the sandworms. So, if we leave Iraq, everything will solve itself. There's no reason for us to be there losing money and lives over spice... um... I mean oil."

"Do you actually know anything about foreign affairs?" someone else asked.

"Well... um... I read the paper every day."

"Articles or the comics?"

Obama thought about that. "What do the classifieds count as?"

"It is so good to finally meet you," Jimmy Carter said to the leader of Hamas. "I hope this discussion can help further peace."

"Kill the jooooos!" yelled the leader of Hamas.

"Yes, I know your grievances and I sympathize," Carter said. "So what concessions do you want?"

"Die! Joooos die!" replied the leader of Hamas.

"And your adamant about that?"

"Push joooos into the sea!"

Carter thought for a moment. "You'd have to file an environmental impact statement for that."

"Bash joooos with rocks!"

Carter nodded. "That seems reasonable to me... but I doubt Israel will see it that way. They're so stubborn."

"Destroy Israel!"

Carter leaned over and whispered to the leader of Hamas. "Don't tell anyone, but I agree with you there."

The leader of Hamas whispered back, "Kill the jooooos."

Carter smiled and nodded. "Well, I think we made great progress. Hopefully this can lead to you all getting the nation you richly deserve." He shook the leader of Hamas's hand. "Goodbye."

"Kill the joooos."

When Carter left the meeting room, he saw President Bush standing outside. "What are you doing here?"

"You're meeting with terrorists," Bush said. "So off to Gitmo with you."

"But I'm a Nobel Peace Prize winner!"

Bush punched Carter in the face. He then took Carter's Nobel Peace Prize. "I defeated you in combat, so the peace prize is mine!"

"I don't think it works that way."

"Then why do I also have Al Gore's?" Bush snapped to his Secret Service who grabbed Carter and shoved him in a wooden crate. Bush then put the lid on and sealed it with a nail gun.

The leader of Hamas came out and looked quite surprised by the scene. "Kill the joooos?!"

"He goes to Gitmo too," Bush told the Secret Service. They shoved the leader of Hamas into another wooden crate which Bush also sealed. He then took out a black Sharpie and wrote "To Gitmo" in big letters on both crates.

Bush turned to his Secret Service. "Send them UPS Ground."

"Playing darts is fun!" President Bush threw another dart out the window.

"Shouldn't we have a dart board?" Dick Cheney asked.

"Only if you're a stickler for playing by the official rules." Bush threw a dart at a potted plant.

An aide ran into the office. "There's a crisis in the Middle East! You need to take this phone call!"

"No," Bush responded. "If you check the schedule, right now is dart time. You'll have schedule that in for later or it won't be fair to the darts."

"But--"

"I said later!" Bush threw a dart at the aide who scurried off.

There was a flash of light and then a strange craft appeared in the middle of the Oval Office. Out of it emerged a man in metallic clothes. "I come from the future to warn you of--"

"AIEEE! A shiny man!" Bush exclaimed. He then pulled out a gun and shot the man dead.

"You idiot; that was a man from the future," Cheney said.

"How do you know?"

"It's a well known fact that people from the future wear shiny clothing. He was probably here to warn us of an impending disaster."

Bush hung his head. "Well, I feel stupid." He looked back up. "Anyway, we have a time machine; let's kill Hitler!"

"Sure; why not. I'm not doing anything this afternoon."

* * * *

Bush and Cheney waited near a house in 1905 Austria. "Should Hitler be here?" Cheney asked.

"He should be here or I'm going to need to correct his article on Wikipedia," Bush replied.

A teenager came out of the house. "Kill him!" Bush shouted an opened fire. "Pepper his face, Dick!"

"Die!" Cheney yelled as he fired his shotgun.

"Mein Leben!" Hitler yelled as he was ripped apart by bullets.

"Yay!" Bush exclaimed. "We killed teenage Hitler!"

"That was Hitler? I was just shooting him because he was a teenager."

Bush checked his watch. "Killing Hitler was tons of fun, but it's about lunchtime in one hundred and three years. We better get back."

* * * *

With a flash, the time machine appeared back in the Oval Office. "So, can killing people in the past have unintended consequences in the future?" Bush asked Cheney.

"No. That only happens when you kill butterflies."

There was shouting from outside the White House. "Oh no; protesters!" Bush went to window to look. One was holding up a sign that said, "Bush = Van Houtte."

"Who is Van Houtte?" Bush asked.

One of Bush's aides walked into the Oval Office. "Jean Van Houtte was a Belgium Prime Minister in the 1950's. He had a very tepid response to their recession, and thus is widely considered the worst politician of the past one hundred years. It's not very flattering to be compared to him... though I think to compare anyone you don't like to him is to belittle the travesty of how mediocre his reaction was to that financial near-crisis."

"You hear that, Dick?" Bush exclaimed, "We've changed the future so people don't even know of genocidal dictators."

"Yes, the world has been very peaceful for some time," the aide said. "It all started about the time some teenager was brutally murdered in Austria after the turn of the last century. Anyway, you have to get ready for your speech at the World Trade Center which still exists."

"Woo hoo!" Bush turned to Cheney. "We're time traveling heroes!"

"Whatever," Cheney said. "Let's go back in time and kill more people."

There were screams outside. Bush looked out the window to see the protesters being torn apart by fifty foot tall gorillas with robot parts. "Uh... what are they?"

"Those are the cybernetically enhanced gorillas that really rule the planet," the aide explained. "When they saw humanity was weak from not being involved in any large wars, they decided to take over."

"Oh no!" Bush turned to Cheney. "We've changed the future for the worse by killing Hitler!"

Cheney shrugged. "How do you know it's worse? We're only seeing one side of the cyborg gorillas."

"You're right." Bush looked at his aide. "So, what is the general opinion on them?"

"People never seem to complain about them," he said. "Then again, if you complain, they eat you."

"So its hard to tell, then." Bush thought for a moment. "Well, best not to overreact and go off unkilling Hitler willy-nilly. So, do I have time to watch CSI: Miami off of the DVR before we go to New York? It should have recorded last night, and I really want to find out if Horatio says something mysterious while putting on his sunglasses."

The aide looked at Bush like he was insane. "What are you talking about?"

"CSI: Miami. It comes on Monday nights."

"No. It comes on Friday nights. It's always aired on Friday nights."

"But that's a horrible time slot for it!" Bush turned to Cheney and grabbed him by his suit coat. "We've caused a dystopian future! We have to go back and stop ourselves from killing Hitler!"

"That sounds boring. Want to go fishing instead?"

Bush paused for a second. "Yeah. Let's go fishing."

"I bring you a message of hope and change," Barack Obama told the fawning crowd. "Of not only change that brings hope... but also of hope that brings change. This is a message that people respond to. It is also not the message of my Democratic opponent Hillary Clinton. That's why I am leading in delegates, and why she... AIEEE!"

A large object flew at Obama and struck him in the face. The Secret Service quickly surrounded him. Gun drawn, one looked over the crowd shouting, "Who threw that lamp? WHO THREW THAT LAMP?!"

* * * *

"We interrupt Dancing with the Stars for the special news bulletin: Senator Barack Obama, while speaking at an even in Pittsburgh Pennsylvania, was struck by a lamp. It is currently unknown who threw the lamp and whether it was thrown out of racial hatred or for political reasons. We have been unable to get a comment from Senator Obama as he is reportedly locked in his hotel room sobbing uncontrollably. His wife, Michelle Obama, quickly responded, though.

On screen was Michelle Obama at a podium. "While we are saddened that my husband was struck by a lamp, we are not surprised. As a black man, Barack could have a lamp thrown at him just for going to the gas station -- nonetheless running for president. This is just another reason I hate this country. I repeat: I really really hate this country and everything about it."

The news anchor came back on screen. "Originally, Michelle was a suspect for the lamp throwing as its just assumed from her personality that she at least constantly browbeats her husband, but she was in Canada at the time of the incident because she was reportedly so sick of this country that she just had to get out of it for a while.

"Senator Obama's pastor and spiritual mentor, Jeremiah Wright, had some words to say about the incident."

On screen was Wright at the pulpit. "First, the white people in the government made HIV to kill the black man. When that didn't work, now they've moved up to throwing lamps. They'll do anything to stop Barack Obama, because they know that the first thing he'll do when he's president is kill all the honkeys! That's right; he'll use the secret government labs to make a virus to kill them! It will be a honkey massacre! That's in the Bible!" He held up a well-worn copy of Hop on Pop. "Right in here... somewhere near the middle, I think."

The news anchor came back on screen. "The next suspect of the lamp throwing is, of course, John McCain. As we in the media have remembered that he's a Republican, we've also remembered that he's therefore evil. We had a reporter sit down and ask him about the incident."

On screen was McCain sitting uncomfortably. "Since you claim to be a conservative," an off-screen reporter said, "you must also claim to hate black people. Do you feel any remorse for throwing a lamp at Obama because he's black?"

"As I've told you a thousand times," McCain snarled, "I don't hate black people; I hate gooks! They tortured me in Vietnam! I'm tired of explaining this! If I could raise my hands high enough, I'd box your ears! Know why I can't?"

"Because you're lazy?"

"Because of the injuries the gooks gave me in 'Nam! That's it; lower your head so I can box your ears!"

The news anchor came back on screen. "The final suspect for the incident is Senator Hillary Clinton, often rumored to have thrown lamps out of anger when previously in the White House as first lady. Her campaign released this statement in response to these charges:

"The idea that Hillary Clinton throws lamps in irrational fits of rage is a rumor spread by sexist, misogynist individuals. Anyone could have thrown a lamp at Senator Obama, and the fact that Senator Hillary Clinton was seen in the are holding a lamp for some reason while looking extremely enraged proves nothing. The fact that Senator Obama has made such an ordeal out of a simple lamp throwing when Senator Clinton wasn't even fazed by imagined snipe fire once again shows the difference in experience between the two candidates. Also, if Senator Obama doesn't wants lamps thrown at him in the future, maybe he shouldn't be such an annoying little upstart who gets in the way of a political future destined by fate that no one, and I MEAN NO ONE, can stop me from achieving! You hear that, bitch!"

President Bush was woken by the phone ringing. "What time is it?" He glanced at the clock: 3 A.M. "Oh... come on..." He picked up the phone. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Sir, this is Secretary Gates. We have--"

"3 A.M., Robby. Can't this wait until morning?"

"Sir, we are on the verge of--"

"I'm a busy man, you know. I have stuff to do in the morning."

"Sir, this is very important. India and Pakistan are on the verge of having a nuclear exchange."

Bush was quiet for a moment. "Wow. Really? ...You really thought that was something worth waking me up at some ungodly hour? How in the world does that affect us?"

"We are talking about--"

"And what do you expect me to do, anyway? I'm not Superman; I can't just fly over there and grab the missiles out of the air. Did you get the presidential phone mixed up with your Superman signal watch, Dick Grayson?"

"I think you mean Jimmy Olsen, sir."

"It's too early in the morning for me to keep secondary comic book characters straight!"

"Honey?" Laura asked, half asleep. "Is it something important?"

"No," Bush answered her and put the phone back to his ear. "Why are they even doing this now? Doesn't India and Pakistan know what time it is? Don't they have to sleep?"

"It's a different time there, sir."

"Huh?"

"It's not the same time there as it is here?"

"What? Now time travel is involved? It's way to early in the morning for me to be dealing with this crap."

"Sir, a nuclear exchange is an unprecedented incident. This is a world changing event, and we will need you to lead."

Bush sighed. "Fine." He started to get out of bed.

"Ha! I punked you!" Gates said.

"Oh, man..."

"Yeah, there's nothing happening. I just felt like pulling a prank on you."

Bush laughed. "You got me. That's like the third time this week, you rascal." Bush hung up the phone and laid back in bed. "My staff is wacky."

Obama knelt by his maternal grandmother. "You just sit here while I give my speech."

"You make me proud, little Barry."

"I will, grandma."

Obama walked to the microphone. One of the crowd shouted, "We love you Obama!"

"I love you too, press," Obama said. "Now, it's time to talk about the important issue of race. As you see, I have my grandmother with me..." He pointed to his grandmother behind him who smiled and waved to the press. "...a horrible ignorant white racist."

"What! Why you little--"

"There she goes again." Obama chuckled. "Probably about to say another racial epithet."

"You little bastard! I--"

"Yes, we know, grandma," Obama interrupted her. "Black people love to steal and rob. You told me a million times." He looked back at the press. "Still I love her, and she showed her love to me in her own racist way, making sure she always had plenty of fried chicken and watermelon for my visits."

"I raised you, you ungrateful--"

"It's okay, grandma," Obama told her. "Remember? It's me; your grandson. I'm not going to steal your purse." He turned back to the press. "You see, I can't disown Jeremiah Wright anymore than I can disown my crazy racist grandma."

"How dare you compare me with that insane preacher you decided to hang out with. I should--"

"Yes, I know, grandma. You hate Mexicans too." He looked back to the press. "I want to create racial healing and understanding, so that's why I want you to know that all black people are just like Wright and suspect you white people of making HIV to kill them. From that understanding, we can begin the healing."

"I always knew you were a lying little--"

Obama laughed. "I better take my grandma home before she starts another ignorant, racist rant."

"We're all going to vote for you, Obama!" one of the reporters shouted.

"Thanks." He then turned to his grandma. "Time to go home now."

"I'm going to tell everyone how you--"

Obama looked to an aide. "Take her to a nursing home."

"Which one?"

"I dunno; one with locks."

His aides carted away his screaming grandma. Obama smiled to himself. "I love racial healing. Dumb crackers just eat that up."

"It's time to begin oral arguments on District of Columbia vs. Heller," Chief Justice Roberts said, "First, let's--"

"I will kill you!" Justice Scalia brandished a gun at everyone in the room. "You try and take my gun, I will shoot you and you will die!"

"Scalia has a gun!" Justice Bryer shrieked.

"Dude, calm down," Justice Thomas told Scalia. "Now give me the gun."

Scalia handed it over. "I was just telling everyone I was going to shoot them."

"I know."

"Anyway," Roberts continued, "we will begin oral arguments by--"

"I will shoot you in the face and I will kill you!"

"Scalia has another gun!" Bryers shrieked.

"I will use this to put bullets in you! You think Kennedy is the deciding vote? The deciding vote is my gun!"

"Chill, man; come on," Thomas told Scalia and slowly took the gun away. "Everything is going to turn out all right, okay?"

"Fine."

"Let's all keep cool heads," Roberts said. "First arguments will be from--"

Scalia whispered to Justice Alito. "Can I see one of your guns?"

"You aren't going to threaten everyone with it, are you?"

"No. I just want to see it."

"Okay." Alito handed Scalia a gun.

"I will kill you all! You try and take my guns, you will all be dead by me shooting you!"

"Scalia got yet another gun from Alito!" Bryers shrieked.

"I will extra kill the liberal Justices!"

"You need to calm down." Thomas slowly took the gun from Scalia.

"Now let's finally get started," Roberts said. "The lawyer representing D.C. can begin his statement."

"D.C.'s ban on handguns is perfectly constitutional. There is no right to--"

There were a number of gunshots, and the lawyers fell dead.

"Okay, who shot the lawyer?" Roberts asked.

"Well, Thomas has all the guns," Souter said.

"Oh of course!" Thomas exclaimed. "If there is a shooting, blame the black man!"

"General Petraeus, I have a question for you," President Bush said.

"Sure. What is it, Mr. President?"

"What do you think about a war with Iran?"

"That would be extremely idiotic at this juncture, sir."

Bush nodded. "Yeah... but would it be newsworthy?"

"Yes, I could see that being a hot topic."

"Like, do you think it would lead the news cycle?"

Petraeus pondered that. "Yes... unless Britney Spears had a tragic death."

"Well, what's the chance of that?"

Petraeus shrugged. "Hard to say."

Bush thought for a moment. "Well, I guess that's just one of the risks when going to war. You see, I'm tired of all the news being about the next president. I'm still president. The news should be about me. And I'm tired of hearing about that Obama." Bush leaned close to Petraeus ear and whispered, "I hear his middle name is 'Hussein,' just like that bad man."

"Why are you whispering?"

"If McCain hears me mention that, he gets angry. And, he could be president one day and abuse his power against me!" Bush leaned close to Petraeus again and whispered, "I also saw Obama in Muslim clothes."

"Where did you see that?"

"At a mosque."

"Why were you at a mosque?"

"To pray towards Mecca."

"Are you sure that actually happened?"

"I didn't get to be president by being sure of things!" Bush went and sat back at his desk so he could pound it for emphasis. "Now what was I talking about?"

"I hesitate to remind you, but you were talking about war with Iran."

"Yeah, let's do that."

* * * *

"I decided to make this announcement in person," Bush told the press.

"We like Dana Perino better," a reporter said. "She's pretty."

"Well you're stuck with me today!" Bush shouted. "If any of you were hoping for a date with Dana, it ain't gonna happen because she hates all of you!"

"Plus, she's married," a reporter said.

"How do you know that? Are you stalking her? You're creepy! Now, as I was saying, I have an important announcement... which I forgot but I wrote it down somewhere." Bush pulled out some index cards. "Red, Yellow, Blue, Red, Red, Blue, Blue, Red, Yellow, Blue... wait, I think that's a cheat code for X-Box game I wrote down..." He pulled out another card. "Here it is: I'm going to war with Iran!"

There was an audible gasp among the press.

Bush smiled. "That's right! It's shocking! Shocking and newsworthy! Any questions? I'm sure you must have many."

Helen Thomas stepped forward. "Why do you want to kill Iranian children? What do you have against Iranian children?"

Bush rolled his eyes. "I thought she was dead! I'm only talking to you guys myself because I thought I heard she was dead! Next question."

"Why?"

"Because..." He paused for a moment. "Oil, I guess. Does that make sense?"

"I thought the problem with Iran is them pursuing nuclear weapons?" a reporter said.

"Maybe that then," Bush responded. "The point is, I have a good reason. Next question."

"What troops will you use for this operation? Aren't they already over-extended in Afghanistan and Iraq?"

Bush thought for a moment. "Well, what are you doing?"

"Um... reporting."

"That's not important." Bush turned to his Secret Service. "Seize him! He's drafted and going to Iran!" The Secret Service dragged away the screaming reporter while Bush looked back to the press. "See, I can do stuff like that because I'm still the president and powerful! Next question!"

"Will you be using local support to overthrow the current regime?"

Bush shook his head. "Nah... don't plan on that."

"But aren't there many Iranians opposed to the current regime who want democratic reforms?"

"Maybe... but sucks to be them, I guess. I'm not falling into the trap of trying to set up a new government again; this time we'll just obliterate the enemy country. In fact, I've been talking to NASA for a plan to nuke it from orbit like they should have done in Aliens."

The press stared at him in shock and confusion.

"You know... 'Game over, man! Game over!'" The press continued to stare at him. "You don't know that movie? I swear that sometimes you guys are so stupid that it's unbelievable."

"You're going to do a nuclear strike against Iran from space?" a dumbfounded reporter asked.

"Exactly! I bet you guys such stupid and shoddy reporters, though, you'll say I was referencing the first movie, Alien." Bush thought for a moment. "Then again, it is pretty confusing that the sequel is just the plural of the first movie. You kinda always want to say, 'The second Alien movie,' just to be clear." He looked up at the reporters. "Now what was I talking about again?"

"Hey it's Obama together with Spitzer!" a reporter shouted. "And Spitzer brought his hookers with him!"

The reporters all ran to the new spectacle. "No! Stay here!" Bush yelled at them. "I'm important! Come on! Obama probably just mistook Spitzer for a foreign leader because he's inexperienced just like Hillary is kindly warning us!" Bush stood there a moment, alone. "Guess I might as well see what my dad is up to."

Hillary Clinton sat in a coffee shop with a a group of supporters in New Hampshire. "Isn't this nice: Meeting with regular folks. That's my favorite part of campaigning."

One man looked at her unconvinced. "Then why do look ready to claw your own face?"

Hillary's smile started fading. "It's just..." She paused to collect herself. "I..." Here's eyes started misting. "I just..." She began crying. "This campaigning had been so... sob... hard on me."

"I'm sorry," the man said. "I didn't mean it. Please stop crying."

Tears were streaming down her face. "Everyone... sob... has been... sob... so mean to me."

"Well, we all like you here," one person said. "Don't we?" Everyone in the coffee shop agreed. "So there's no reason to cry."

"People just think... sob... the worst of me... sob... because all I ever wanted... sob... is unlimited power."

"No no. We know that's natural for a woman to want. Please stop crying."

"It's just that all... sob... the anger against me... sob... is hard to take... sob... I keep praying... sob... to a higher power... sob... for it to stop... sob... but it never lets up... sob... and I'm beginning to wonder... sob... if there really is a Satan."

A woman nearby patted her on the back. "There is and he's listening to you. It's all going to be okay."

"People seem to think... sob... I'm some naive liberal... sob... they thought... sob... I was going to accidentally screw up... sob... healthcare in America... sob... with my plan... sob... but really... sob... I was going to destroy it on purpose... sob... to spread suffering."

"We know that," a man told her. "We know you're devious and not naive."

"And I've worked... sob... so hard... sob... to be president... sob... my whole life... sob... and now that's going to be... sob... taken away from me... sob... by a colored man... sob... with the name of homicidal dictator."

"No! That's not going to happen," another woman assured her. "The country is still racist; they'll never vote for Obama."

The waiter came by the table. "Um... Can I get you something Senator Clinton?"

She tried to wipe away her tears. "I'd like... sob... a caramel... sob... macchiato."

"Oh, um... I'm afraid we're out of caramel."

Hillary started crying even louder.

"Is there anything else I can get you?" he asked in a panic. "Anything at all?"

"What I really like... sob... but most places don't have it... sob... is the blood... sob... of a new born baby."

"There's a hospital just a block away and I know where the nursery is. Just please stop crying and I'll be back in a minute." The waiter ran out the door.

"I think I better... sob... leave and get... sob... a handle on myself." She stood up and began to slowly walk away from the table.

Bill O'Reilly ran over and knocked her down to the floor. "Stop blocking my shot of Obama!"

"I'm... sob... sorry."

"Shut up and stop the crying! You're messing up the recording of me shouting at people!"

Hillary crawled away into the corner and just sat there crying.

"Is there anything we can do to cheer you up?" one woman asked.

"You could... sob... tell me... sob... a joke."

"Well... um... what's black and white and red all over?"

"I don't... sob... know."

"A penguin with a sunburn."

Hillary stopped crying, and soon a cackle began to form inside her and grow until she cackled so loud that small children five counties over began crying for no reason.

The patrons of the coffee shop stood back in fear. "Are you sure you're done crying?"

"We knew the destruction of those interrogation tapes was going to be a big deal," White House Press Secretary Dana Perino told the press, "but luckily we found a new copy so we'll just show you what's on it so your imaginations will stop running wild."

On screen behind her was scene of a Muslim man looking panicked as unseen people prepped him.

"So, yes," Perino said, "what you are seeing here is the interrogators connecting a car battery to the subject's gonads. That seems pretty bad, but, come on, he's a terrorist! Who really cares what we do to him?"

On screen, the terrorist started screaming. After a couple minutes, one reporter asked, "Since this is supposed to be an interrogation, shouldn't he be asked questions at some point?"

Perino was silent for a moment. Finally, she shrugged. "Okay, you got us. It wasn't an interrogation. We just thought shocking a terrorists gonads would make an entertaining video for the CIA Christmas party. Still, are you going to feel sympathy for him? He's a terrorist!"

They watched as the terrorist on screen kept shaking and screaming. Eventually, a reporter asked, "Don't you mean 'holiday' party."

"Yes, sorry, it's for the CIA holiday party."

On screen, they watched as for another minute straight the terrorist kept screaming. "So... how long does this go on?"

"A while," Perino said, "The battery is a Die Hard."

"Power! All that glorious power will soon be mine! Mine!" Hillary Clinton rubbed her hands together greedily while letting forth a chilling cackle.

"Thank you, Senator Clinton, for your opening remarks," debate moderator Keith Olbermann said. "Senator Obama, it's your turn."

Barack Obama smiled like a two year old with a lollipop. "Hello. My name is Barack Obama. I would like to be president. People say I don't have the experience, but I've been a Senator for this many..." He held up three fingers. "...years. I think I would be a good president. I like firetrucks."

"Senator Edwards, you turn."

"I just want everyone to know that I am the only candidate here who truly cares about poor people and the downtrodden. I--"

"You're urinating on a homeless man," Bill Richardson interrupted.

"I don't see your point," Edwards responded, now peeing on the homeless man's face.

"Please! I've suffered enough!" the homeless man pleaded.

"Don't you think it's a bit hypocritical to be talking about how much you care about poor people while urinating on a homeless man?" Richardson asked.

"Hey, I needed something to pee on and he was there," Edwards said. "Let's not focus on my actions and instead focus on my populist, progressive rhetoric I've recently adopted. Oh, and don't forget my hair." He ran his hand through his silky hair. "Isn't it fabulous! Don't you just want to touch it?"

"I do," Olbermann said, "but I've been handcuffed to my chair specifically so I don't."

"I requested that," Hillary stated.

"Representative Kucinich, your opening statement."

"A lot of people think I'm a shriveled little gnome who is completely nuts, but I also... AIEEEE!"

Electricity pulsed through Dennis Kucinich, dropping him to the ground.

"I pooped my pants a second time!" Olbermann exclaimed in fright.

A vortex emerged at the center of the stage. From it emerged a giant figure in black armor with glowing red eyes. "I am O'Yama, eater of souls and registered Democrat!" he screamed, lighting bursting about him and the entire auditorium shaking at the sound of his voice. "The rage and hatred of Democrats has empowered me to return and seek the Democratic nomination that is rightfully mine! I have come to give you a true choice of darkness, evil, and progressivism. I shun moderation and vow to truly change this nation by turning it into hell on earth!"

The audience cheered. "That'll show the rich!" one yelled.

Hillary yawned loudly. "Oh no, another candidate trying to attack me from the left."

"Do not mock me!" O'Yama bellowed, his eyes burning with rage. He aimed his hand and shot lightning from his fingertips, electrocuting Kucinich and dropping him to the ground.

Obama giggled. "He has a silly sounding name."

"Quiet, weak-minded fool, or taste my wrath as I create an equal redistribution of pain!" O'Yama extended both hands and shot lightning from his fingertips, electrocuting Kucinich and dropping him to the ground.

"Why me?" he moaned.

"So what is your stance on the Iraq War, O'Yama?" Keith Olbermann asked.

"I will end it immediately by taking funding away from our troops and giving it to their enemies. Anyone who is a part of Bush's war should suffer and die!"

The audience cheered. "He says what we're thinking!" one exclaimed.

"I don't know if I'm comfortable with calling for the slaughter of our troops," Edwards said.

"But most of them are Republican!" shouted an audience member.

"Yes, but isn't it better to support them while looking down on them as victims and young people too stupid to get real jobs," Edwards suggested. "What I'm saying is we support the troops, but support them as the dumb babies they are."

"There will be no room for such moderation in an O'Yama administration! Here's is my response to such compromises to true progressivism!" O'Yama pointed his hand and shot lightning from his fingertips, electrocuting Kucinich and dropping him to the ground.

"On second though, maybe I don't need to be in these debates anymore," Kucinich moaned.

"Well what about domestic issues?" Olbermann asked O'Yama eagerly. "What are your views on abortion?"

"Babies are nothing but an assault on women's rights! I will slaughter all infants, whether they are in the womb or out, and I shall do it all with federal tax money!"

There was a standing ovation. "Finally, someone who really understand what women's rights is all about!" a buzz cut woman shouted.

"This guy is awesome!" Olbermann exclaimed as he drooled on himself. "Now I have a different type of mess in my pants!"

"This is stupid," Hillary said. "This sort of talk isn't going to play at all in the general election."

"Bah!" O'Yama bellowed. "If Democrats have the courage to nominate a true progressive, he will surely be elected president and eat the souls of any who disagree with him! Muh ha ha ha!"

Another standing ovation. "Finally! A Democrat with courage to tell it the way it is!"

Hillary growled. "Listen, you stupid demigod: I am going to win this nomination and I'm not going to have you force me left in the primary to ruin my chances in the general. You are not the first demon I've dealt, and I doubt you'll be the last."

"Quiet, woman!" O'Yama snarled. "You and your political maneuvering do not frighten an evil which has existed and plotted and planned for thousands of years as opposed to an evil who was simply married to a president for eight."

"I will bury you!" Hillary screeched as she charged O'Yama.

"It is time for your rule of the Democrats to end, foul harpy!" O'Yama raised both arms, and fire surrounded them both. There was a horrid scream, and the rest of the candidates fled the stage as the fire grew. After seeming like it would soon engulf the entire auditorium, the fire began to fade until it disappeared entirely leaving a pile ash next to a single dark figure on stage with glowing red eyes: Hillary Clinton.

"I shall be the Democratic nominee!" she bellowed, shaking the entire room. "No other evil shall stand before me!"

* * * *

Laura Bush turned from the TV to President Bush. "Hillary Clinton may control hellfire, but she's still not a flaming liberal like the rest of those candidates."

Bush turned off the TV with the remote. "Why are we even watching this crap? This doesn't affect me anymore. These idiots can battle it out for president all they want and I'm still leaving office with all the money of I've made through Halliburton with my illegal warring."

Laura rolled here eyes. "You haven't made any money from Halliburton. That's just stupid conspiracy theories on the net made by people with too much time on their hands. If you don't stop reading them, I'm going to take away your internet privileges."

"You sure it's all made up?" Bush asked. "I can almost swear I remember wiring World Trade Center 7 for explosives. Well, I guess it doesn't matter. I know what I'm doing after I leave office." He held up a piece of paper. "I already got an application for the Taco Bell in Crawford, Texas, all filled out. I hear if you work there, you get free tacos!"

Laura sighed. "I know. You've been talking about it for the past two years."

"Mmm... tacos!"

"I'm Anderson Cooper..." he pirouetted. "...360, and this is the Republican presidential debate on CNN! We have a lot of questions, so, to save time, we're not going to let Duncan Hunter speak."

"Oh, come on!"

"Sorry, you have to be either a front runner or crazy like Tancredo and Ron Paul or otherwise when you're talking it might as well be dead air," Cooper said.

"I'm not crazy," Ron Paul stated, "I really am the second coming of Thomas Jefferson, whose appearance will usher in a thousand years of fiscal responsibility."

Tom Tancredo pounded his podium. "Less talk, more nuking Mecca!"

"Alright, lets get to the questions," Cooper said. "We had over five thousand videos sent in by YouTube users. Most were snippets of hardcore pornography but a number were questions from undecided Republicans. Let's see the first one."

On screen was a young man who looked about college age. "Many of you have taken strong stances against illegal immigration. What is it about brown people that you hate the most?"

Cooper turned to Mitt Romney. "You can take that."

"Um... I'm not really sure I accept the premise of that questions..."

"Because they're lazy," Tancredo piped in. "Is that the right answer?"

Fred Thompson stared down Cooper. "These better not be a bunch of crap questions or I'm gonna hurt ya, you understand that?"

"Well, I know I don't hate illegal immigrants," Mike Huckabee said. "I can't help but raise taxes to give them free tuition when they look at me with their cute little illegal faces with those big, sad eyes they have. "

"Those eyes are where they're most vulnerable!" Tancredo added.

"I think this is a good time as any to point out that Romney hired illegal aliens," Rudy Giuliani said. "He had a sanctuary mansion."

"What?" Romney exclaimed. "How can you criticize me for that? You had a whole sanctuary city!"

"Yes, but as I can back up with a doctor's note," Giuliani responded. "I'm a bit out of my mind and not always responsible for my own actions. I don't think you have that excuse. And, if you want to know my record on illegal immigration, just look at what happened with Amadou Diallo. I personally shot him forty-one times, and he was a legal immigrant. Think of what I'd do to a illegal immigrant... or a terrorists."

"Fascinating." Cooper pointed to the screen. "Next question."

A girl with pink dyed hair appeared on screen. "Many of you support private ownership of guns. Is this because you're sexually aroused by kids blowing their heads off?"

"Are you sure these questions are from undecided Republicans?" Romney asked.

"Yes," Cooper responded. "And I don't like the tone of your question."

"If some kid puts his grubby hands on my guns, he might as well blow his head off and save me the trouble," Fred Thompson growled.

"Now, I know this is one of the social issues I'm vulnerable on," Giuliani said, "as I've been honest about the fact that I want to abort gun owners. Still, you should at least admire the zeal at which I went after gun owners with my experience as a prosecutor. Just another reminded that I was in real life what Fred Thompson played on TV." He chuckled a bit.

Fred Thompson glared at him. "Shut up."

Giuliani bowed his head. "Yes sir. Sorry sir."

"It should be noted that guns are not mentioned in the Constitution!" Ron Paul said. "Yes, they are in the Bill of Rights, but I have never liked that addition as it takes away from the blessed purity of the Constitution itself!"

Cooper nodded. "Okay. Next question."

"Wait a second," Romney said. "These questions aren't all going to be like this, are they? These seem more like questions based on ignorant stereotypes of conservatives, which I find offensive since I've been a strident conservative for five whole weeks now. We are not all a bunch of mindless bigots who love violence."

"I'm not sure if this a good point to mention it," Tancredo said, "but I have a new plan to combat illegal immigrants by setting their children on fire."

Romney turned to Tancredo. "You're kinda stepping on my point here, Tom."

"I assure you these are all carefully vetted questions," Cooper said, "and are the concerns of real conservatives and not based on some cartoonish stereotype. Here's the next question."

On screen was a young man covered in tattoos and piercings. "So why do you guys like kicking puppies?"

Romney groaned.

"I'd say because of the weird sound they make and because they're small so they fly far," Tancredo said.

"I want to make it clear that I am against the kicking puppies," John McCain said. "Even if we suspect a puppy has information about an upcoming terrorist attack, I am against kicking it."

"Do you have any questions from actual Republicans, Cooper?" Romney asked.

"They're all questions from undecided Republicans, so shut up!" Cooper said. "Here's the next one."

A very pale looking young man appeared on screen. "So, since you're all Christians and stuff, do you really think Jesus would be bombing Iraqi children like you guys?" He laughed to himself. "That oughta show those stupid Republicans. I should diary this on Kos..."

"This is pointless," Romney said.

"I should note that Jesus wasn't explicit on everything," Huckabee said. "Like He never said anything about eating pie, and I sure love my pie. Mmm... pie. But Jesus was clear on one thing: Raising taxes is okay if it's to fund programs to encourage illegal immigration. If you don't understand that, then maybe you aren't a good Christian."

"You're all missing the point here, people!" Ron Paul exclaimed, "We have encouraged attacks by existing! We need to withdraw America from everywhere in the world and hide it. We'll stop both terrorism and illegal immigration if no one can find us. Also, we should build a shield around all of America out of pure gold which will also back our dollar! It's just common sense!"

"If people don't want their kids blown up, they shouldn't piss us off," Fred Thompson said. "It's as simple as that. Now, are these questions submitted anonymously or can you tell me where these people are so I can hurt them?"

"I assure you that no one other than those with access to internet has any idea who these people are," Cooper answered. "Thus, CNN is completely clueless on that matter."

"I really suspect these questioners," Romney said. "I think some of these people may even be Democratic operatives."

"That's a crazy conspiracy theory," Cooper responded. "Don't make me put you in the nuts section with Ron Paul and Tancredo. Here's the next question."

A well coiffed man smilingly gaily appeared on screen. "Hi. I'm an undecided Republican and I just want to know how any of you think you can be elected president when none of you have fabulous hair like me."

"First off," Romney said, "my hair is much more fabulous and shiny. Second, that was not an undecided Republican; that was Democratic presidential candidate John Edwards."

Cooper shrugged. "Well, if we had known that, I'm sure we would have thought of mentioning it."

Fred Thompson pointed at the screen. "I want to beat up that sissy. Actually, if I am elected president, I promise to beat that sissy John Edwards."

"I really want to hurt him to," Giuliani said.

"So do all of you agree on the issue of hurting John Edwards?" Cooper asking.

All the candidates nodded in agreement except Ron Paul. "I'm not sure that's Constitutional."

"I also promise to beat Ron Paul with a rolled up Constitution," Fred Thompson said.

"This is a good discussion," Cooper stated. "Here's the next question."

A young black man appeared on screen. "Why do you think that even though blacks agree with you conservatives on most social issues they won't vote for any of you dumb honkeys?"

"Probably because I keep shooting them multiple times," Giuliani ventured.

"I think it's a cultural difference," McCain said. "Due to injuries I received from being tortured by gook bastards, I am physically incapable of waving my hands in the air like I just don't care which gives me great trouble when trying to relate to black people."

"I want black people to know that I want their vote and that my religion has been tolerant of black people for a couple decades now," Romney stated.

"I won't have any trouble getting black votes myself," Ron Paul said. "In fact, I'm half black. It's my lower half."

"We let black people vote now?" Tancredo asked, looking confused.

"Let's move on to the next question," Cooper said.

On screen appeared an old man. "I'm a retired gay general -- a regayneral -- and I wanted to know what you homo-haters think of that!"

Romney squinted at the screen. "I'm pretty sure I've seen that guy campaigning with Hillary."

"Well guess what... we've brought him here!" Cooper exclaimed.

In the audience stood up the man now wearing a "Gay for Hillary" t-shirt. "I'm here! I'm queer! Get used to it!"

Romney sighed. "This is ridiculous. We're not all irrationally scared of homosexuals as you in the media like to portray us."

"Careful!" Tancredo screamed, pointing at the man. "He might get his gay on us!"

"You're really not helping, Tom."

Tancredo looked around in pure fright as he covered his butt. "Where did he go!? Where did he go!?"

"I'm tired of this crap," Fred Thompson announced, "I'm going to bed."

Cooper pointed an accusing finger at him. "So you are just as lazy as they say! I knew--" He was knocked down by a large object. "Okay! Who threw Ron Paul at me?"

"This is stupid." Giuliani began to walk off. "I'm going to have my friends from New York back here to bust things up."

"This is just the sort of evil my sacred garments are supposed to protect me from." Romney left too.

"Frankly, I'd rather be back in the Hanoi Hilton than listen to another one of these internet twits." McCain walked away.

"I may have a goofy name, but I'm still too serious a person for this." Huckabee looked to the audience. "Chuck, you know what to do."

Chuck Norris walked up to Cooper and roundhouse kicked him in the face, knocking the CNN reporter out cold. Chuck then limped off. "Man, I forgot my arthritis meds."

Duncan Hunter walked away as well. "I'm not irrelevant enough to stay here."

Only Tancredo was left on stage. "I just want to say that we need to get all the illegal immigrants to Mecca so we can nuke them." He then held up a baby golden retriever. "Now someone hold this puppy still so I can see how far I can punt him."

"Hello reporters and other malcontents," President Bush said to the people assembled on the field. "I have gathered you here to witness the defining moment of my presidency."

"I thought that was Iraq," one reporter said.

"No, that was to distract everyone from this which is much more awesome. This is--"

"We're out in a field," another reporter said.

"Yes, that so you can get a better view of--"

"It's cold and windy here."

"Shut up!" Bush shouted. "You wonder why people hate you? This is why! Now listen; this is important. Anyway, here it is: The greatest accomplishment of my presidency. Look up in the sky."

"Is that a small moon?" said one curious reporter.

"That's no moon!" exclaimed another. "That's a space station!"

"That's right!" Bush smiled. "I built myself a freak'n Death Star!"

The reporters gasped in astonishment. Finally, one asked, "So what's it do?"

Bush rolled his eyes. "It blows up planets! How do you not know that? You guys are idiots."

"Are you going to blow up the earth?"

"No! That's where I keep my stuff. It's for blowing up other planets."

All the reporters were silent for a while. "Why?"

Bush threw his hands in the air. "I swear, you guys ask the dumbest questions! Do you not understand this? I have a Death Star! This is like the greatest event ever! It's like man first landing on the moon and then doing an awesome guitar solo! Ask some good questions for once!"

"Is is carbon neutral?"

"Gah! Who cares?! It can destroy environments in a single shot! How do you not understand how awesome this is?!!"

"Can we see it blow up a planet?"

"Finally. A decent question," Bush said. "I'm afraid the answer is no, though. I was going to have it blow up Venus since that's closest and we don't use it for anything, but it ends up it hard to move the thing. I thought it would be easy since in space everything is weightless, but it ends up it still has that other thing... uh... mass. Anyway, just know it can blow up planets and we're working on how to move it to other planets to blow them up. Next question."

All the reporters were silent for a few seconds until one finally raised his hand. "Again, why?"

Bush sighed. "It's a Death Star! America now has a Death Star! That's why! We can blow up planets, which makes us the most powerful force in the universe... that we know of. How are you people not grasping this?"

"Well... can we go up and see it?"

"No. Space travel is expensive. Also, if we let you guys up there, I bet the New York Times reporter is going to de-power the tractor beam to let terrorists escape."

"There are terrorists in space?"

"Not at present... but eventually... there could be."

"So who is up there in it?"

"Mexicans. It's not like we had a bunch of Geonosians to build it, so that's why I fought for relaxed immigration control: So I'd have enough Mexicans to build my Death Star. We said we'd ship them down afterwards, but it actually wasn't in the budget. Now they're threatening to take over the Death Star blow up earth if I don't ship them more burritos, but I think they're bluffing." Bush's phone rang. "Ooh. I got to take this." He answered his phone. "Hey, Dick. So how did dissolving the Senate go? ...No, they won't get to keep their pensions. You don't pay out pensions after you dissolve something... They can't refuse to leave! Don't they know I have a Death Star?!" Bush sighed as he hung up the phone. "So, anymore questions?"

After a moment, one reporter ventured, "Well... um... uh... why?"

Bush groaned. "Why are you people making this complicated? It's a Death Star. I know everyone watching this at home understand this. You reporters are the only ones not getting it. You are out of touch and that's why everyone hates you. Every time you people broadcast I can hear millions of voices suddenly cry out in terror and are then suddenly silenced as they turn you off. You all are horrible human beings. How are you not getting this?"

Everyone was silent for a while. "So what are we waiting for?"

"For another planet to attack."

Governor Schwarzenegger stood at the podium for a press conference. "Hello. I am Ah-nuld! Ask your puny questions so I may crush them!"

"Are you satisfied with the government's reaction to the wild fires?" a reporter asked.

"The fire was puny!" Arnold shouted. "I crushed it! It could not stand against me! I protect Cal-ee-forn-ya! I am Ah-nuld!"

"Are you afraid the currently contained fires may bleed out into other areas?" another reporter asked.

"I am afraid of nothing! I am Ah-nuld! And, if it bleeds, we can kill it!"

"Do you think the way evacuations have gone will help you politically?"

"I'm not into politics, I'm into survival! Evacuations went well because I am strong. I went door to door and said to the puny citizens, 'Come with me if you want to live.' They do as I say because they are puny and do not want me to crush them and know that I am Ah-nuld. Some were sad to leave, but I assured them, 'You'll be bahk!'"

"Do you think the relief to the fire was hindered by much of the National Guard being in Iraq?" a CNN reporter said.

Arnold chuckled. "Your question is funny. I will answer it last."

"How do you think everything the disaster here has compared to Katrina?" another reporter asked.

"Katrina was puny! It was just wind and water! This involved fire! Fire burns! It is much more deadly! Still, compared to me, it is puny... so I crushed it... since I am Ah-nuld. But I vow one thing: Cal-ee-forn-ya will be a chocolate city once again!" Arnold looked back to the CNN reporter. "You know when I said I'd answer your questions last? I lied. There was plenty of relief workers, and you are just trying to insert politics into this because you are puny. For that, I will crush you! I am Ah-nuld!" Arnold shouted, "Dah!" as he picked up and crushed the reporter.

"You have vowed to hunt down the arsonists responsible for some of these fires," a reporter said. "What are your exact plans?"

"What is best in life: Crush these enemies, see them driven before me, and to hear the lamentation of the women!"

"What about due process?"

"Due process is puny! I will crush it!"

"How do you crush due process?"

"It simple. I am big and strong. Due process is small and puny... so I crush it! What do you not understand? I am Ah-nuld!"

"Has all of this made you consider an eventual presidential run despite not currently being allowed to be president by the Constitution?"

"The Constitution is puny! If I want to be president, I will be president! I am Ah-nuld! No Constitution will tell me what to do! I will crush it!"

"You're going to crush the Constitution?"

"It is but a puny piece of paper! I am big and strong! I am Ah-nuld! I will crush it!" Arnold checked his watch. "I have no more time for you puny people. I understand I have probably said too many thing for your puny brains to remember, so I will summarize." He held up one finger. "Puny." He held up a second finger. "Crush." He held up a third finger. "Ah-nuld. Any last questions?"

"Who are you?"

"I AM AH-NULD!"

"Heh heh. I do kinda look like a chimp. I wonder if this guy just thought of that; it's pretty clever." President Bush closed his laptop and looked up at the attractive woman who had just entered the Oval Office. "Did you know some people make fun of me on the internet? And who are you? Did I order a stripper?"

"I'm Dana Perino, your new White House Press Secretary."

Bush shrugged.

"I previously subbed for Tony Snow when he was getting cancer treatment. I've been the Director of Communications for the White House Council on Environmental Quality."

"I've never even heard of that. Did you bring your own music or do I need to supply that."

"I'm not a stripper! I was hoping to talk to you about strategies with the press."

"Oh... well... ya know, I do crazy stuff and you just need to come up with some sort of explanation for my actions that makes me look good. It's usually no use to talk to me first, 'cause I usually don't remember why I do anything. Like the whole amnesty mess... I think that's because I got Central America confused with the United States of America. Ends up they're completely different... except that both of them have lots of Mexicans."

She smiled nervously. "Tony explained to me this would be a challenging job, but I'm ready for it."

"So you thinking you'll like it? I'm considering getting a new job myself. I don't think this whole 'being president' thing is working out; I really don't see a future with it. I believe I'm in a binding contract, though, so I'm going to have to try and get myself fired."

"Um... are you serious?"

"As I explained to Tony multiple times, I'm always serious; I lack the intelligence for sarcasm. Anyway, this is a fun job; I think you're going to like it. This attractive woman press secretary idea is great. All the reporters will be like, 'Maybe if we believe everything she says, she'll like us.' Of course, you won't like them; I've met all those reporters, and you will end up despising each and everyone of them... but don't let them know that. Also, I guess a nursing home nearby has bad security because this one crazy old lady comes to all the press conferences."

"Helen Thomas?"

"Yeah. If you get near her, she bites... which is bad news because she always sits in the front row."

"Sir, what I needed to talk to you about is the disappearance of MoveOn.org's leadership. Apparently, there is some compelling evidence that some of your people are involved."

Bush chuckled. "Oh, yeah; funny story: Those MoveOn.org guys are a bunch of douches, so I thought it would be a great joke to sign an order declaring them traitors and calling for their execution. You know I don't actually have the power to execute American citizens, right?"

"Of course."

"Well, the guy I gave the order to apparently didn't know that. The MoveOn turds we're all like, 'Don't shoot me, bro!' and..." Bush started laughing. "Anyway, they're pretty dead now, so you can tell the press to stop looking for them. I forget where their bodies are buried, but it's going to be a parking lot soon. I hope that helps."

Dana stared at him in shock.

"I guess they 'Moved On' to the afterlife." Bush laughed, but saw that Dana was still looking at him in disbelief. "I guess you had to have been there."

PREVIOUSLY ON IN MY WORLD

"You haven't been listening to the generals!" Harry Reid shouted at President Bush. "Iraq is just like Vietnam! You must withdraw troops now or we're doomed! Dooooomed!"

TODAY ON IN MY WORLD

"You need to stop listening to the generals!" Harry Reid shouted at President Bush. "And Iraq will not be like Vietnam, so don't worry about withdrawing the troops now! Now! Before we're doomed! Doooomed!"

"Rarr! I hate you Democrats!" Bush yelled. "The only thing doomed is your election prospects if we succeed in Iraq! But you won't live that long!" Bush hit the trapdoor button and the floor fell out from underneath Harry Reid. "Muh ha ha ha ha!" Bush walked to the edge of the trapdoor. "Now you die!"

"Um... could you not drop your Democrats on me?" called a voice up from below.

"What? I thought there was supposed a lion or a rancor down there?"

"No, just Bob from accounting. This is my office and I have lots of paperwork to do."

"I just assumed when the contractors came in and installed the trapdoor, they'd put a pit with deadly beast below it."

"I never heard of that. My office has always been below yours."

Bush stamped his foot in frustration. "Well... uh... could you kill Harry Reid?"

"What? I don't..."

"Just pick up a stapler and staple him to death or something."

"That's... that's really not in my job description. Anyway, he's gotten up and walked out already."

"This was supposed to be a pit of death! What use is a pit of accounting?" Bush thought for a moment. "I guess if someone came to me with an accounting question, I could send him through the trapdoor to you."

"The person would fall right on my desk; I don't think either of us would like that."

"Details. Hey, could you push the trapdoor closed from down there."

Bob got on his desk and pushed the flap back in place.

"Thanks!" Bush sat back at his desk and Tony Snow came in the room. "What's up, Snowman? Hey, did you know there isn't a pit of death under my office?"

Tony paused for a moment. "I'm not sure how to respond to that, sir."

Bush's hand hovered over the trapdoor button. "So, do you have an accounting question?"

"I'm going to say 'No.' I'm here to tell you that I'm going to be retiring from the job of White House Press Secretary. With all the stress and the toll on my health, this job has made me yearn for the simple, blissful days when I had cancer."

Bush was sad for a moment, but then a thought struck him. "Hey! Maybe that hot chick can fill in for you again!"

Tony sighed. "I'm glad you're excited. Anyway, I just wanted to give you notice."

Bush nodded. "Hey, before you go, what's six times thirteen?"

"Huh?"

"Kinda a tough math question." Bush's hand hovered over the trap door button. "Maybe one for an accountant."

"It's seventy-eight."

Bush groaned in anger.

"I'm just going to leave now."

After Tony Snow left, Chuck Hagel walked into the office. "We had scheduled a meeting about--"

Bush hit the trap door button and Hagel plummeted down. "Ahh! My back!"

"Hey! I'm trying to work down here!"

"As you all know," Barack Obama said to an assembled crowd of supporters, "I opposed the Iraq War from the start. Of course, that was because I thought Iraq was a province of Canada. Well, now I have smarter reasons to oppose the Iraq War. We have to take our troops out of Iraq and out of Afghanistan where they're doing nothing but killing civilians and immediately invade Antarctica and bring peace between the penguin and seal population."

President Bush turned off the TV. "Boy is that guy stupid. I guess I better bring peace to the world before the next guy takes over."

Out of the shadows emerged the hooded figure of Karl Rove. "I'm afraid I won't be with you to the end of this journey."

"Whatcha you talk'n about, Rove?"

"According to the ancient Book of Punditry, now is the time I retire permanently to the shadows."

"And do what?"

Rove eyes glowed. "Dark things... Plus, I'm going to spend more time with my family. Also, I'm writing a book."

"Really? What's it called?"

"Working title is the Necronomicon."

"Eh... I don't read books."

"I'm well aware of that."

Bush hung his head sadly. "Aww... we were such a great team. You were like Emperor Palpatine, Cheney was like Darth Vader, and I was like Jar Jar Binks, and together we were going to rule the galaxy! Now where are we going to get our evil to make others fear us? I don't know if Cheney can do that alone."

From another room they could hear Cheney shout, "More kittens! I'm hungry!"

Bush thought for a moment. "Hey, this isn't just some trick of yours, is it?"

Rove handed Bush a piece of paper. "Check today's talking points memo."

Bush read the first line aloud. "'Remember to belittle as crazy anyone who suggests Karl Rove's resignation is just a Rovian trick.' Hmm, who wrote this?" Bush checked the bottom of the memo. "Rarl Kove? Who's he?"

"He's... new." The shadows grew around Karl Rove to the point they almost enveloped the whole room. "Now is the time that I depart to the land of darkness and shadows. Know that I shall never truly be gone. Wherever a child cries, wherever dreams go unfulfilled, wherever suffering becomes unbearable, wherever a Republican seems inexplicably unconcerned with border issues, I shall be there!" For the last time, Rove faded back into the shadows, and then the shadows themselves disappeared leaving the room bright and cheery.

A kitten wandered into the room. Cheney then ran in behind it and snatched it up by the scruff of its neck.

"Rove is gone," Bush told him. "Now we have to figure things out ourselves."

"Well, the Democrats are pushing even harder to spoil things in Iraq now that they think victory might be possible."

Bush thought for a moment. "I know! We can invade Iran! Then everyone will complain about how that's a quagmire and ignore Iraq just like they now ignore Afghanistan."

Cheney shrugged his shoulders. "I guess that could work. Hey, have you seen my kitten dipping sauces?"

"Pull all the troops out of Iraq now! NOW!" President Bush shouted into the phone.

"Mr. President, what's happening?" asked a bemused Tony Snow.

Bush tossed a newspaper at him. "The New York Times has an editorial saying we can win in Iraq! That means something really bad must be going on down there, and I don't want our troops just sitting around waiting to find out what it is!"

"The editorial was by the Brookings Institution, not the New York Times itself," Tony told him. "It was pretty well informed."

"So its not some huge trap the New York Times and al Qeda have set up for America?" Bush asked cautiously.

"I doubt it."

Bush picked up the phone. "Cancel the withdrawal order; tell all the troops to stay where they are. Thanks." He hung up. "This is why I don't read the newspaper; it's gets me all worked up."

"Anyway, we need--"

"Wait one sec." Bush picked up the phone once more. "Also, disable those nuclear missiles I launched... Yeah, no rush. Just do it sometime before they hit. Thanks." He hung up the phone. "So, snowman, I feel hungry for pie!"

* * * *

"If generals are saying the surge is working, why should we listen to you, a Senator Reid, a doddering old man?" asked a reporter at the press conference.

"Bah! Generals don't know anything! The only one who knows anything are those... um... smelly people I talk to." He turned to his aide. "What are they called again?"

"Left-wing bloggers."

Reid turned back to the reporters. "Yes, the bloggers. Everything is going poorly in Iraq. It is doomed! The efforts of the troops there are in vain! They're doomed! Dooooomed!"

"Why is your tie missing?" another reporter asked.

"On the way here, a mugger took it along with my wallet. He also started brutalizing my wife. I thought of verbally protesting his actions, but decided not to get involved. Who knows if I wouldn't have just made things worse?"

"Is your wife all right?"

"I don't know and I don't care! That doesn't affect the Democratic Party!"

Reid stormed off with his fellow Democrats into a nearby conference room. "Patriotism, happiness, military victory: These are the demons we must slay if we want to ensure a the Democrats win big in 2008," Reid told his people. "I don't like the idea of people thinking that things could be going well in Iraq; success there could be the most devastating blow to the Democratic Party since the end of slavery! We were counting on al Qaeda to continuing killing lots of people in Iraq, but if they're slacking, we'll have to do it ourselves." Reid turned to a DNC intern. "You! I need you to go over to Iraq and blow up lots of people."

"Um... I don't know..."

Reid grabbed him by the collar. "When you joined the DNC, you knew it could be a suicide mission!"

"Do you think maybe you're losing perspective here?" the intern asked. "Maybe it's better we change positions instead of supporting killing the innocent."

"I have perspective!" Reid shouted. "How many Democratic defeats is worth an Iraqi's life? I say, it's better all the Iraqis die a horrible death than the Democrats lose one election! Now go to Iraq and blow people up! Try to kill some troops, too; they lean Republican, anyway."

Reid's aide took the intern aside. "He's just cranky and needs a nap."

There was a knock at the door and a police officer came in.

"Good! Did you find my tie?" Reid asked.

"No, but we have your wife and she's okay."

"Does she have my tie?"

"I don't think so."

"But did you find out who pooped in my car?"

"Yes. That was you."

"Thanks, officer," Reid's aide said as he ushered the man out of the room. "It's time for the Senator's nap." When the aide turned around, Reid already had his head on the table and was fast asleep in a puddle of drool.

"Doooomed. Dooooomed." Reid uttered in his sleep.

"So I don't have to go to Iraq and blow people up?" the intern asked Reid's aide.

"No... at least not this far away from the election."

"I'm Anderson Cooper..." he pirouetted. "...360, and this is the Democratic presidential debate on CNN! Let's start with opening statements. First up, Hillary Clinton."

"I will be president! It is inevitable!" she pounded her podium, cracking it. "Your only choice is whether you stand behind me or whether you get in my way and feel my horrible wrath!"

"Barack Obama, your turn."

"I'm Barack Obama."

Cooper was quiet a moment waiting for Obama to continue. "Is that your entire opening statement?"

"That's all I got... well, that and my winning smile." Obama smiled and the audience erupted in applause.

"John Edwards, your statement."

"I want to unite the two Americas and end poverty and..." He started giggling. "I just can't stand how fabulous my hair is today. I hope their broadcasting this in HD, because you really just need to admire my hair." He ran his hand through it. "I could just feel it all day; I really could."

"Now on to the second and third tier candidates," Cooper said. "Since no one really cares what you all have to say, please be quick. Bill Richardson."

"I'm a governor, and you should all know that governor's are who usually become president, not Senators."

"Dennis Kucinich."

"We have to stop the mind controlling space lasers... with peace!"

"Mike Gravel."

"Rocks go in the river! Throw the rocks in the river!"

"Chris Dodd."

"I don't even know anything about me."

"And I should note that Joe Biden has decided not to give an opening statement to reduce the chance of him using a racial slur or some similar gaffe. Very wise of him." Cooper turned towards a large TV screen. "We in the media have been criticized for asking stupid, insipid questions, so to prove that things can be worse we asked the public to submit questions on YouTube. As expected, intelligent, thoughtful people didn't seem especially motivated to videotape themselves asking a question, but we went through what we had and found the most coherent and those least likely to make you give up hope in all humanity. Here's the first one."

On screen was a man staring into the camera with great confusion. "Is this recording? How do I know if this is recording? Maybe I need to hit this button again..." He reached forward and the screen went black.

"That actually was one of the best one's submitted," Cooper said. "Since it wasn't addressed to anyone in particular, who wants it?"

"I'll take it," Richardson says. "I believe the camera was recording."

Everyone else nodded in agreement.

"Good," Cooper said. "This next question is for Hillary."

On screen was some goth chick. "My question is for Hillary Clinton. As the the first openly evil presidential candidate, what are your plans for America?"

"If you knew the full extent of my plans, you would die from fear. Sill, I will say I plan to spread misery and pain to all Americans, but less misery and pain to those who do my bidding."

"Any rebuttals?" Cooper asked.

"NONE SHALL DARE REBUT ME!" Hillary screeched.

"Okay. Next question."

On screen was a woman. "This question is for Barack Obama. With Iraq possibly in a civil war and turmoil throughout the Middle East, how do you plan to stabilize that region and end America's presence in Iraq without genocide erupting afterwards?"

Obama thought for a few moments, and finally replied, "I'm Barack Obama!" He smiled, and the audience erupted in applause. "I think I'm winning the debate!"

"Probably, next question is for Edwards."

On screen was a man who looked like a hobo. "This is for John Edwards. What made you so interested in the cause of poverty?"

"One day I saw some people outside the front gate of my mansion. They looked like ants from so far away, but I used some binoculars and saw they were poor people. Then the most horrible thing happened: My security came out and started beating them. The government has to stop that!"

"Um... just to clarify," Cooper said, "you're asking for the government to stop your security guards from beating poor people?"

"Well, I can't stop them myself; those people are large and scary. What if they got angry and damaged my fabulous hair?!" Edwards ran his hand through. "Isn't it just luscious? Don't you want to touch it?"

Cooper was quiet for a moment, but then he reached out his hand. "Yes... I do want to touch it..."

"Hey!" Hillary yelled. "We agreed in the ground rules that there would be no time outs to touch Edwards's hair!"

"Fine, here's the next question."

On screen appeared a young woman. "This question is for Dennis Kucinich. I saw you standing in front of my neighbor's house all week wearing a blue coat and a pointy red hat. Why was that?"

"Thanks, I get that question a lot. That's actually a lawn gnome. A lawn gnome makes a house seem whimsical and welcoming and thus it actually accomplishes more than I do in Congress. Still, when I'm president, I want people to say, 'Though Dennis Kucinich looks like a lawn gnome, he has actually accomplished much more than said lawn ornament."

Hillary laughed. "Not likely. Why do I have to share the stage with this freak? When the power of America is mine, I vow never have to be as near someone as freakish as Dennis Kucinich again... except maybe for foreign diplomacy."

Dodd raised his hand. "Do I get a question?"

"No," Cooper replied. "I'm afraid there isn't anyone with enough spare times on his hands -- even on the internet -- to videotape a question for you."

Dodd hung his head. "Aww. Dodd sad."

"We now -- surprisingly -- have a question for Joe Biden."

A man holding a rifle appeared on screen. "I was wondering what Joe Biden thinks of gun rights and whether he'll try and take my firearms."

"Of course I'll take your gun!" Biden screamed. "You're a crazy sick man to have one! I will take your gun, lock you up, and then beat your children! Anyone who owns a gun is insane!" Biden turned towards a man off stage. "You, with the gun! You're sick!"

The man looked confused. "I'm part of security here."

Biden started walking towards him. "You're insane! I'm going to take your gun! And then I'm going to stangle you! And then I'll strangle your wife! And then I'll--"

Biden was cut off by a gun shot.

"Well, Biden just got himself shot because of his frank language we all know and love," Cooper said, "but since he's only a second tier candidate, I think we can go on without him."

"Can someone get him off stage and throw him in a dumpster?" Hillary demanded.

"He's still alive," Cooper answered.

"Do I look like I care? Get it done!"

Some people dragged away Biden. "This next question is for John Edwards."

A woman with heavy makeup appeared on screen. "Senator Edwards, how do you get your hair so bouncy?"

Edwards smiled. "I'm glad you asked that question. First you need to--"

"ARE YOU TRYING TO TAKE A PICTURE OF MY PENIS?!!" Anderson screamed at Edwards.

Edwards looked completely dumbfounded. "No, I'm just--"

"You're watching me, hoping my pants fall so you can take my picture of my penis!"

Edwards was stunned silent, but eventually he hung his head shamefully. "Yes, I was trying to take a picture of your penis. I'm sorry." He put away his camera phone.

Anderson kept glaring at Edwards suspiciously. "The next question is for Hillary."

A man came on screen. "Hillary Clinton, will you keep nuclear weapons on the table in your dealings with Iran?"

"I hope we can create a dialog with them and such threats won't be necessary, but if they ever get in the way of my political ambitions, I will nuke them and any country next to them! And I will eat their children's bones!"

"Any responses to that?" Cooper asked.

"I'm Barack Obama!" Obama smiled, and the audience erupted in applause. "I think I won the debate!"

"I wouldn't be surprised," Cooper said. "Since that's all the Democrat idiocy FCC regulations allows for one day, that concludes our debate. Thank you for watching CNN. CNN: Even more scared of FOX News than the Democrats."

"And this is the Capitol Building. Everyone here is stupid," President Bush told the little Iraqi girl as he showed her around the Senate chambers.

"Why are there beds here? Are the people here homeless?" the girl asked.

Bush shrugged his shoulders. "I never know what the hell is going on here."

"We're going to stay up all night to make sure America retreats from Iraq!" Harry Reid declared.

"But what will happen to my family!" exclaimed the worried little girl.

Harry Reid knelt down to face her eye to eye and put his hand on her shoulder. "They'll most likely be killed in the ensuing genocide, but know that their deaths will not be in vain because our analysts thinks the genocide will be blamed on Bush and perhaps skyrocket the Democratic Congress's approval ratings all the way into the 20s."

Bush chuckled. "My approval rating is already in the 20s. You guys suck."

Reid stood up to face Bush. "We're going to show we're trying, and that will win over those guys on the internet!"

Bush grimaced. "The Kos Kids? You think their support will help you? Those goobers couldn't find their wieners with two hands and MapQuest turn by turn direction from their home to their wieners."

"Everyone uses GoogleMaps now," the Iraqi girl said.

"Yeah, but that won't give you directions to your wiener. I tried." Bush turned to Reid. "I have a lot of time on my hands lately."

"Excuse us, but we have to get our beds prepared for staying up all night." Reid walked away to watch an aide fluff his pillows.

"I don't understand," the Iraqi girl said. "If they're going to stay up all night, why do they need beds?"

"Because they're morons and nothing they do makes sense."

"I can't get to sleep," Carl Levin yelled, "Ted keeps farting!"

"Gerwarglerr!" Ted Kennedy replied.

"Jeeves, change my sheets!" Kerry called out. "I caught Byrd wearing them."

"Are they going to sleep already?" the Iraqi girl asked. "It's only six."

"We're old!" Reid answered.

Soon the Senate chambers were filled with snores. "Obviously, we have to do stuff to them while their sleeping," Bush said. "I say let's keep it simple and just quietly load them on a truck and dump them in the Potomac."

"I thought you were going to show me the dinosaurs."

"Bah, you don't want to see that. Anyway, I heard those fossil bones are just a Jewish conspiracy to make the earth look older than it is. Now help me hot wire a truck."

* * * *

Reid was awakened when he felt himself hit cold water. "Help me! Help me!" he screamed as he splashed about in the river. He was hit in the face with an elbow as Ted Kennedy swam past like a torpedo.

"Not again!" Kennedy shouted. He was soon to shore and running away without a single glance behind him. "I need to find my lawyer!"

"End war! Ergah! Leave now!" a crazed man screamed at Senator Harry Reid. Reid slammed the door to his Senate office. He could hear people clawing at it.

"Who are these weird smelling people?" Reid asked his aide.

"Left-wing bloggers, sir. They think they're responsible for the Democrats' victory in '06, and they want the Iraq War ended now."

"How many are there?"

"Not that many, but they're loud."

There was more pounding at the door. "Me smirt! You listen me! You end war!"

"Fine," Reid said. "Guess I'll finally have to get this war ended so I can get my afternoon nap. I'm old!"

* * * *

President Bush sat at his desk, twiddling his thumbs. After a while of boredom, he hit the button on the intercom and asked his receptionist, "Any calls for me?"

"No, sir. No calls for you. You're a lame duck."

"Awwww." Bush sunk in his chair.

"Wait, Harry Reid is here to see you."

"Oh. Okay. Send him in." Harry Reid walked into the office. "Anyone ever tell you you have the worst porn name ever?"

"We need to talk about Iraq," Reid said.

"I've already told you that that's my favoritest war ever and I'm not going to end it!"

"Then maybe I have someone who will convince you otherwise -- an editor from the New York Times!"

An editor from the New York Times walked into the Oval Office. "We have declared that the Iraq War must end now!"

Bush furrowed his brow. "Haven't you guys written that exact same editorial every day since forever?"

"Yeah... but this time we mean it!"

"And you don't care that if we pull out, there will most likely be civil war and genocide?"

"We're pretty sure you'll get blamed for it, so we're okay with that."

Bush push the button on his intercom. "Clear my schedule for the afternoon. I'm going to spend it beating an editor from the New York Times with various objects in my office."

"There's nothing on your schedule, sir," the receptionist replied. "You're a lame duck."

"Excellent."

* * * *

"And that's for not publishing my op-ed!" Bush yelled as he hit the editor from the New York Times with a stapler.

"We'd never publish your stupid crayon scrawl!"

"My pen was broke and crayons were all I could find!" Bush shouted back and hit him with the stapler again.

"I think that's enough," Tony Snow said.

Bush looked around the room. "Where did Harry Reid go?"

"I think he got bored of impotently watching you beat the editor from the New York Times so he went out in the hallway and sat down in a chair and fell asleep. He's old."

"Well, help me throw this guy out the window. He'll find his way home; liberals always remember their home."

"I believe you're thinking of dogs."

"Whatever. The point is, we're throwing him out the window." Bush and Tony picked up the editor from the New York Times and threw him out the nearest window.

"What did you just throw onto my rose bush!" Laura exclaimed from outside.

"Whoops!" Bush quickly shut the window. "So, Tony, how are things going?"

"Pretty good. No one asks questions at the press conferences anymore since you're a lame duck and no one care what you think. Also, by your request, we checked the motorcade for Decepticons and it's all clear."

"Great." Bush sat back in his desk chair.

"There are a couple problems, though. A lot of people didn't like how you commuted Scooter Libby's sentence."

"Well, if they saw his sad puppy dog eyes, they would have commuted his prison sentence too!"

"Also, more Republicans seems to be defecting on Iraq and not letting the surge play through."

Bush nodded thoughtfully. "These are the times where we find out which Republicans have testicles and which ones only have the 'I Can't Believe It's Not Testicles!' testicle substitute. I'm not backing down on the war. I already lost all my popularity because of the 'Not Amnesty at All' for Mexicans debacle." He leaned close to Tony and whispered. "I'll tell you a secret: It was really amnesty all along."

"I don't think that was a secret, sir."

"Anyway, the point is that no matter what I do, I can't get any more unpopular, so I'm going to see this war through no matter how weak and whiny the rest of the politicians get."

"I think that's admirable."

Bush thought for a moment. "Hmm... since I can't get any more unpopular, maybe I should form some death squads to eliminate my opponents."

"What?!"

"Squads of death. They're like a squad that goes around killing people."

"I know what a death squad is, Mr. President; I'm just saying maybe you should rethink that idea."

Tony Snow left the room. "I don't know why death squads get such bad raps," Bush said to himself. He hit the button on his intercom. "Any calls for me."

"No, sir. You're still a lame duck."

"I'm going to vandalize entries on Wikipedia for the rest of the day."

"You don't have to tell me; no one cares what you do."

"Excellent."

Tony Snow sighed and entered the Oval Office. "You know, conservatives are actually kinda scary when you're on their firing end. I hate asking again, but I don't quite understand why you're so averse to securing the border and why you want to grant amnesty to illegals so bad."

President Bush motioned to Tony to close the door and come closer. He then whispered, "I never told anyone this, but I'm secretly an illegal Mexican."

"Um... I don't think so, Mr. President; I know your parents."

Bush shook his head. "They told me they found me as a baby in a well in Mexico."

"You sure they weren't joking?"

Bush leaned back in his chair. "I'm never sure of anything, and that's never stopped me from acting. We need to get this bill passed so I won't get deported. Now go out tell the Republicans who are against this bill that they just hate brown people. Have Linda Chavez go out and do that too... and tell her to lay her accent on thick."

"She doesn't have an accent."

Bush pounded his desk. "Then tell her to get one!"

"Sir, I don't really understand how insulting Republicans is going to help things."

"Well, which one of us is the President and which one of us is the... uh... whatever you do?"

"White House Press Secretary?"

"Yeah, that."

Bush kept staring at Tony, and eventually Tony realized that he was expected to answer the rhetorical question. "Um... I'm the guy who does whatever I do."

Bush jabbed himself with his thumb. "And I'm the President!"

Tony was about to leave, but he stopped. "So this is really about you thinking you're Mexican? I thought this was all some Karl Rove scheme to try and pander for Hispanic votes."

"No. Karl Rove doesn't actually exist; he's just a fiction we put out there."

"What?! Why would you make up Karl Rove?"

"Well, the thought of him scares and distracts my political opponents." Bush was silent a moment thinking. "The complete reasoning is pretty complicated; only Karl Rove is smart enough to understand it all. Anyway, if you see a Republican that's against amnesty, punch him and tell him he's stupid. That will get those stupid Mexican-haters on our side."

Tony sighed. "The Republican Party was fun while it lasted."

Bush chuckled. "It was a wild ride." Bush then stared intently at an empty space on the wall. "No! You can't have my bologna sandwich, Rove! And you stop putting evil thoughts in my brain!"

Tony hurried out of the office and spotted Karl Rove in the hall. "Do you know the President thinks he's seeing you?"

Karl Rove smiled. "And who do you think you're seeing? Muh ha ha ha ha!" He then disappeared into shadow.

"I really should have stayed at FOX News."

"I think you Mexicans will find this new amnesty plan to be very generous," President Bush told the group of Mexicans assembled at the table in front of him. "You just have to pay your fines and back taxes and then you're all set."

"Why should we pay your taxes, Gringo?" the head Mexican asked. "We're Mexican; we don't pay your taxes. You give us amnesty without back taxes!"

Bush thought about that. "Okay... I guess you don't need to pay taxes. Just pay the fines and everything will be even-Steven."

"The fines are too much. We don't want to pay no fines!"

"Half-fines, then."

"Why should we pay any fines? You guys tricked us over here! We were happy in Mexico."

"Well... I guess fines might be harsh, then."

"You pay us!"

"What?"

"You pay us to apologize for hassling us for crossing into land which is really ours! You do it or we leave!!"

"No no! Don't leave!" Bush pulled out his wallet. "I have twenty bucks; how's that?"

The head Mexican snatched the twenty dollar bill. "That will do... for now."

"So when do they get to vote?" Nancy Pelosi chimed in. "Can they vote tomorrow?"

"There's not an election tomorrow."

"Why don't we give them all the vote and hold an election tomorrow!" Pelosi exclaimed.

"I don't know about voting," the head Mexican said. "You aren't going to make us pay taxes in the future so we can vote, are you?"

"Well... you kinda have to pay taxes to be citizens," Bush said sheepishly.

"Maybe we don't want to be citizens. Maybe we want to come here, do whatever we want, and not pay taxes."

"And vote!" Pelosi shouted. "Don't forget to vote!" She turned to Bush. "Why don't we just let all Mexicans vote as part of the compromise?"

"And we want bridges," the Mexican said. "We hate getting wet crossing over here. Build us bridges!"

"I don't know if the Republican base will like allowing all Mexicans to come over here and do whatever they want and vote."

"And the border guards annoying us," the head Mexican said. "We want you to murder them."

"I really think my Republican base isn't going to like us sanctioning the murder of border patrol agents," Bush said.

"Why not?" Pelosi asked. "It's because they hate brown people, that's why. You're either for murdering border patrol or you hate brown people!"

"You better do it!" the head Mexican threatened. "Or we'll stop picking your lettuce!"

Bush stood up in shock. "But lettuce in the basis of a garden salad! What would salad be without it!"

"That's why you better think of what's more important to you: Us Mexicans or your Republican base!" The Mexicans all got up to leave. "We're taking some chairs with us. For our next meeting, make sure you know how to speak Spanish."

The Mexicans grabbed chairs from the meeting table and left the room. "Don't forget to register to vote!" Pelosi called out to them. "Actually, registering isn't important; just show up to the polls." She turned to Bush. "I think this compromise on immigration is turning out very well."

Bush frowned. "Yeah, but you're a soulless harpy. I'm more worried about what Republicans are going to think."

* * * *

"How has it been going explaining to the Republican base that the reason they have a problem with the immigration bill is because they hate brown people?" Bush asked Tony Snow.

"I've been hit in the head with a beer bottle three times so far." He rubbed his temple. "You know, it hurts more when it doesn't shatter."

"Of course I know that!" Bush shouted. "Aren't they happy that we're giving them the fence they want to satiate their brown people hatred?"

"They like the fence, but they're not thrilled about the air conditioned walkways you're going to build over the fence. This bill really seems to be hurting the last bit of approval rating you have. Most of the Republican Presidential candidates are scoring points off of bashing the plan; Tom Tancredo has gone up three points in the polls vowing that, if Mexicans continue to invade, he'll nuke Mecca. Also, Jimmy Carter called you the worst president in history."

"What?!" Bush exclaimed. "Worst out of all the presidents? Himself included?"

Tony nodded. "He said your so bad, he'd almost think that you're a Jew."

Bush thought for a moment. "With all the uproar -- especially from Republican voters -- I'm starting to wonder if we Republican politicians miscalculated on this bill." He shook his head. "No. The last thing I should do is listen to other people. You stick to the message, Snowman, and tell all the Republicans that the only reason they are angry is because they hate brown people. Tell them to stop worrying since it's not like this problem will go on forever since eventually all the Mexicans will sneak in here and then illegal immigration will stop for good." Bush thought for a moment. "Well, we might still have some Guatemalans sneak in, but they'll have to trek through what will then be the vast wasteland of Mexico, and most of them should die in the journey." He looked back at Tony. "So tell the angry Republicans that most of the Guatemalans will die. That should make them happy. Oh, but only tell them in Spanish; they all need to start learning that language/"

Tony looked pretty nervous. "Maybe I should focus more on talking up how things are going in Iraq."

Bush jumped to his feet. "Hey! I have an idea! Maybe we can solve things in Iraq by having an open border there too!"

"Actually, part a big part of the problem is terrorists slipping in through the porous Syrian and Iranian borders."

"Is that what the Iraqis say?" Bush sat back down. "I think what's really the problem is that the Iraqis hate brown people."

President Bush took a moment's break from stabbing a potato with a newly sharpened pencil to look up at his visitor. "Hey, good to see you, Snowman! Wow, you're really are looking better after that illness. I mean, you look years younger. You grew breasts, though; you might want to have the doctors look into that. Maybe it's a side effect of one of your medications."

"I'm Dana Perino; I've been filling in for Tony Snow while he recuperating. Remember?"

Bush mulled that one over. "No. Not ringing a bell. I'm going to call you 'Ari' because it's easier to remember. Whatcha need, Ari?"

"I just needed to know if you have any input before this next press conference."

Bush thought about it. "No. I don't really care about anything anymore... or what anyone does. Just say whatever you feel like, Ari. You could make stuff up; that would be fun. Oh, but make sure you make our contempt for the press clear."

"Is there any new direction you want me to take when answering questions about global warming?"

"Well... summer is coming up, so tell the press that it's supposed to warm so they aren't surprised."

Dana wrote that down. "That's actually one of the more sensible things you told me."

Bush laughed. "You have moxie. I think I'm now going to call you 'White Condi.'"

* * * *

"Harry Reid had some strong words on the war in Iraq," the anchorman said. Video of Harry Reid giving a speech was then shown.

"We've lost in Iraq! It's all over! We're losers! The troops think they're fighting, but all they're doing is losing! And they deserve to lose, because they're losers!"

"Remember when I tried to explain a chart about greenhouse gases to you? Many of you started crying."

"When Vice President Dick Cheney criticized Senator Reid's 'defeatist' attitude and accused him of demoralizing the troops, Senator Reid called Cheney an 'attack dog,'" the anchorman said. "We go now live to a White House press conference."

"I'd just like to reiterate the White House's absolute contempt for you barely literate morons who ask me questions," Dana Perino told the reporters. "On a personal note, I'm starting to believe that Tony Snow's illness was simply his body protesting be subjected to such idiocy. Now, what are your questions?"

"The lights in here are too bright." one reporter said.

Dana sighed. "That's a statement, not a question."

"What are the lights in here are too bright," the reporter tried again.

"Go play in traffic," Dana said. "Next question."

"When Cheney found out he was called an 'attack dog,' he drove a car into Senator Reid's living room and broke Reid's kneecaps with a bat. Doesn't that prove Senator Reid's point?"

"Dogs can't drive cars or wield bats, so no."

"Senator Reid's knees have been broken many times by this administration, and he's now having a lot of trouble walking."

"Again, that's not a question. Furthermore, we don't care. If Democrats like walking, they should be more concerned about not making Vice President Cheney angry. We've warned you before that Cheney is not a stable man and he doesn't feel compassion or empathy."

"Representative Dennis Kucinich recently issued articles for impeachment of Cheney. He seemed to dissappear right after, but later he was found standing on Cheney's lawn in a blue coat and wearing a red pointy hat and he would not answer our questions. Do you know why?"

"Because lawn gnomes don't talk. Any other questions?"

"With visionaries like Sheryl Crow concerned about global warming, shouldn't the White House take a tougher stance?"

"Once again, I want to remind you that celebrities are exceptionally stupid people," Dana said. "I know you reporters think they're smart, but that's because you are very dumb yourselves. This is an issue of science, and thus you should all stay away from it because there is no chance of you even understanding the slightest thing about it. Remember when I tried to explain a chart about greenhouse gases to you? Many of you started crying."

"That's because you yelled!"

"Five of you asked what carbon dioxide is at different point throughout the presentation. I thought maybe raising my voice would help you remember. It was useless, though. I don't know who's idea it was that the White House should regularly answer questions from people much dumber than the average American, but this is obviously a failed concept."

"What is carbon dioxide?" a reporter asked. "I hear it's dangerous."

"Does Cheney make carbon dioxide?" another reporter asked. "If so, how does Halliburton profit off of it?"

A reporter ran forward. "Did the Bush Administration claim that Saddam had carbon dioxide so as to invade Iraq? Also, isn't it true none was ever found?"

"You are all insults to the First Amendment," Dana shouted. "I really hope you die soon in some horrible--"

"White Condi!" Bush yelled as he ran into the briefing room. "Have you seen the football?" He then noticed one of the reporters and immediately took off a shoe and started beating the reporter in the head with it. He turned back to Dana. "I recognized him from a zombie movie -- or maybe it was CNN -- so I decided I better beat him with my shoe. Now my foot is cold. Could I have one of your shoes?"

"No."

"Then you're mean!" He looked at the press. "Everyone be careful; I heard there was a carbon dioxide leak in the building."

"...and that's why education is important," President Bush told the second graders. "Any questions?"

A little boy raised his hand. "No one likes you."

Bush glared at him. "That's not a question."

A little girl raised her hand. "Will Hillary Clinton eat my soul if she gets elected?"

Bush thought about that. "Eh... probably. Of course, I'm not going to president in 2009 no matter how elections go, so it's not my problem. Now, a lot of people suspect that Senator Clinton is filled with some sort of supernatural evil that corrupts everything around her... but that's also part of her appeal and what makes her a shrewd politician. Any other questions?"

"No one likes you."

"THAT'S NOT A QUESTION!"

* * * *

"I hate children," Bush told Laura.

"Shh. I'm watching The View."

Bush sat down in an easy chair to watch.

"The government lies to us!" Rosie O'Donnell screamed. "They poisoned the pet food to bring attention away from their illegal war in Iraq!"

"I just don't think there's any proof to that assertion," Elizabeth Hasselbeck said.

"YOU SHUT UP, YOU WHORE!" The massive Rosie stood up and flailed her arms around like a panicked elephant, knocking over furniture. "BUSH TOOK DOWN THE WORLD TRADE CENTERS AND CAPTURED THE BRITISH SAILORS HIMSELF! YOU'RE BLIND IF YOU DON'T SEE THAT!" She threw a chair at Elizabeth. "FIRE CAN'T MELT STEEL! FIRE BAD! FIRE--"

A snare enclosed around Rosie's legs and hefted her up into the air, hanging her upside down over the stage.

"Just let her hang upside down a bit until she calms down," Barbara Walters said. She turned to the audience. "By the way, everyone here is getting Homedics Personal Massager."

The audience cheered.

"I don't get this show," Bush said. "Barbara Walters talks about news and women's crap with three mentally retarded people. Isn't it wrong for them to be exploited like this for us to laugh at them?"

Laura shook her head. "I like this show."

"And who is that Joy Behar?"

Laura shrugged. "I think she's a comedian."

Bush grimaced. "Just because you go on stage and people laugh at you, doesn't make you a comedian."

Dangling from the air, Rosie's voice began to dwindle. "Scientists show fire no melt steel... talk to Harvard and Yale..."

"I don't know about Yale," Joy said, laughing nervously at her yet unspoken lame joke. "That's where Bush went to college."

Bush laughed. "She thinks she's smarter than me; that's cute." He noticed a newspaper on the coffee table. "Hey! A paper with news on it!" He picked it up and looked inside. "I can't believe Pelosi actually wore a full veil in her Middle East visit."

"The weird thing is that it was when she was meeting with the Israeli prime minister."

Bush set down the paper. "I always ask her to cover her face when talking to me, but she never listens."

"So how have things gone with getting the Democrats to support the war?" Laura asked.

"Same old."

* * * *

Tied to the hood of a car, speeding head on into traffic, Harry Reid wouldn't stop screaming.

"Could you be quiet for a second?" Bush was doing the best he could to avoid a head on collision as he steered the car. "I'm just trying to get your attention to explain something to you. See, you say the war is a huge waste, and yet you want to fund it for a year with a date set for certain failure. I really think the whole reason you're doing this is for political purposes and to appease those wiener kids on the internets. You understand what I'm saying?"

As he saw more headlights racing towards him and narrowly missing, Harry Reid continued to scream.

"If you had any integrity -- or balls -- you'd either vote to defund the war now or get off my back. Now hold on; we're going into a tunnel."

* * * *

"That reminds me: I need to issue myself another pardon."

"You have to be careful with that," Laura chided him. "Your approval rating is bad enough."

Bush scoffed. "I'm going to be unpopular when I leave office no matter what, so I might as well focus on what's important: Winning this war to keep America safe, free, and full of illegal Mexicans."

Evil laughter echoed from the shadows.

Laura looked around. "You ever wonder what Karl Rove wants those Mexicans for?"

"Far as I understand, it's some grand political strategy... or he's abducting them and chopping them up to make cheap hot dogs."

Laura nodded. "So when do you think we'll have a war with Iran?"

Bush shrugged his shoulders. "Later next week... I think."

After a long day of shooting and getting shot at in Iraq, Buck the Marine headed back to camp. When he got there, he ran into the last thing he wanted to deal with... Democrats!

"We're here to support the troops," Harry Reid said with Nancy Pelosi standing behind him smiling her eerie, inhuman smile.

This can't be good, Buck thought but didn't say, trying to be respectful to the things from Congress. They were part of the federal government who paid for the Buck's bullets which he would then deposit into foreigners. "I appreciate the support."

"Not so fast!" Nancy shrieked. "You don't get our support so easily!"

"We have to get something out of it first!" Reid looked Buck over and pointed to the object in Buck's hand. "What's that?"

"It's a Nintendo DS. It has a touchscreen," Buck explained. "When I get bored because there's no shooting, I shoot people on it."

"Well, I want it!" Reid turned to Pelosi. "Let's add to the 'Support the Troops' bill that I get Buck's Nintendo DS."

Pelosi wrote in a notepad. "And I want his DVDs. We'll put that in the bill too."

"Hey! You can't just take my stuff!"

"We're just trying to support the troops!" Reid seized Buck's rifle. "Until we're allowed to support the troops in our own way, you get no funding! That means no rifle and no bullets!"

"But that's what I use to kill for'ners!"

"And take off that body armor!" Pelosi yelled. "We're renting that, but you don't get it anymore until our demands are met."

Buck took off the body armor. "This seems like an odd way to support the troops."

Reid grabbed the body armor. "Are you questioning our patriotism?!"

"No; I'm sorry." Buck thought for a moment. "So, if I give you guys my Nintendo DS and my DVDs, will you give me my rifle and body armor back?"

Pelosi nodded. "Exactly... but we also want $24 million for sugar beets."

"Uh... sugar beets?"

"And $640 million for LIHEAP!" Reid said.

"I don't even know what that is."

"You don't need to." Reid adjusted his tie. "All you need to know is that's part of what it will cost to get us to support the troops."

"I don't have that kind of money; I'm just a simple Marine who likes shooting for'ners."

Pelosi smiled to the point that it looked like her skin was going to snap. "If you want to continue your mission here, you better tell Bush to give us everything we demand!"

"Well... I'll try." Buck was upset, but politics wasn't his job. Shooting foreigners was. "If you get everything you ask for, I can get my rifle back?"

Reid nodded. "Yes, you'll get our support and your funding... assuming you agree to surrender."

"Surrender? To you?"

"No, to... uh..." Reid thought for a moment. "Whoever it is you're supposed to be fighting here."

Buck was starting to get upset. "But I don't want to surrender!"

"Then you get no funding and you'll die here!" Reid shouted. "Muh ha ha ha!"

"Our demands must be met if you troops want any chance to survive!" Pelosi screamed. "Everything we want is outlined here!" She handed a list of demands to Buck.

He scanned through them. "A hundred million in unmarked bills and a fueled helicopter waiting for you! And a list of political prisoners you want released!" Buck glared at the two Democrats. "Are you sure you're not terrorists?"

Reid laughed. "We're Democrats; there's well established precedent of negotiating with Democrats when we threaten the livelihood of Americans!"

Buck shook his head. "I'm never going to understand politics."

"Four years," President Bush said. "Who would have ever thought this war would last four years?"

"I would have thought five," Dick Cheney said.

Bush waved his torch around to light the walls of the underground crypt. "What are we doing here again?"

"Halliburton board meeting."

Bush looked back at the little goat he had on a leash. "Wait a second. You didn't ask me to bring Petey the goat so you could sacrifice him, did you?"

"If you like him so much, we'll let you bring home his head." They came to a large cavern with a number of giant blue flames. The flames grew brighter and out each one emerged a sinister hooded figure. "To evil!" they shouted.

"To evil!" Cheney answered.

"Evil! Yay!" said a young woman.

Bush turned around to see a woman in a business suit with an inappropriately short skirt. He leaned over to whisper to Cheney, "Uh... who is she?"

"We were starting to get some pressure about how all of our board are white males -- the most evil kind of human -- so we went to a number of strip clubs until we found a woman willing to work for Halliburton."

"Wow! A baby goat!" she exclaimed. "Are we starting a petting zoo?"

"You're still not allowed to talk, Candy," Cheney said.

"I just wanted to say I'm getting sick and tired of all you!" Bush shouted. "You guys told me that Halliburton could steal all the oil in Iraq within six months and then you'd blow up the entire country and blame it on Belgium!"

"Who's Belgium?" Candy asked.

"Now it's four years later," Bush continued, "and we're still in Iraq and everyone is yelling at me and telling me I'm a bad President."

"We decided more evil could be done by extending things out," one of the hooded figures said.

"Why?" Bush yelled. "How does that make you any money?"

"Don't forget the Halliburton motto," Cheney said. "'Evil before profit!'"

"We are trying to destabilize the entire region!" stated one of the board. "Soon its famine and pestilence will spread to the rest of the world!"

"Are you guys talking about that thing on TV with all the yelling people and the sand?" Candy asked.

Cheney sighed. "Is it the 'no' or the 'talking' part of your instructions that's given you trouble?"

"If you ruin everything there, then what will happen with our oil supply?" Bush asked.

"We're working on alternative fuel sources," hissed one of the cloaked. "We already have a car that runs on the pain-filled cries of puppies."

"How about a car that runs on cola," Candy suggested. "You can get that pretty cheap at Wal-Mart."

"How is that evil?" Cheney demanded.

Candy slapped her forehead. "Oh yeah. I keep forgetting the evil!"

"Know what? I'm done with you guys!" Bush shouted. "I'm starting to think that you guys are evil, and that's not what I want for administration."

"Fool!" a board member yelled. "You dare defy us! We shall -- OW! THE GOAT BIT ME!"

"I think Petey has it right," Bush said. "We're out of here. From now on, we're only listening to the Zionist conspiracy. You guys are nothing but evil... and a bit slutty. Come on, Petey; let's go back to the White House and pick out some attorneys to fire." He walked away, taking his goat with him.

"That was to be our sacrifice to our master Satan!" a cloaked man yelled.

"Do you think that slutty remark was aimed at me?" Candy asked. "Just because I was a stripper doesn't mean I'm a slut. That's one of those stereo things. We should make him and his family pay for his impotence!"

"'Impudence,'" Cheney corrected her. "This is why I said we should have invested more time in out mind control device instead of picking out a leader we thought would be dumb and easy to manipulate. What do we do now?"

"How about we go have lunch at T.G.I. Friday's?" Candy said. "I know it's not evil, but they have great appetizers."

Cheney shrugged. "Yeah. Sure."

"Mr. President, what's going on?" Tony Snow asked.

"Shh!" Bush held a knife ready to cut a rope that came through the window of the Oval Office. "I'm trying to drop a piano on Chuck Hagel. This took a lot of time to set up, so don't screw it up! I even had to convince the staff I wanted a new piano and the only way to get was to bring it up through the window here."

Tony looked around. "They took out a wall."

"Yeah, and then I had to set up a dummy corporation, get it listed on NASDAQ, rough it through a trouble quarter, and finally get enough credibility that I could have it offer a humanitarian award to Chuck Hagel that's about to awarded to him right below this piano."

"Did this corporation have any employees?" Tony asked.

"It won't tomorrow." Bush watched out the window. "Now!" He sliced the rope and outside there was a loud, musical crash followed by a scream. "Aww... I only got his leg." He closed the window. "Well, I did my best. So, did you need something, Snowman?"

"Well... there's... um... you know there's a huge crowd gasping in horror out there?"

"There pretty much always is. Just ignore them. Now spit it out, Tony."

He held out some papers. "There's some domestic business to handle--"

"What?! Haven't I done enough presidenting for one week?! I thought this was going to be about ice cream?"

"Um... ice cream?"

"Yeah. Like maybe you had some ice cream for me."

"Huh?"

Bush sighed. "You are so stupid, Snowman. So, what is this domestic business?"

"Well, apparently, when you last visited Mexico, you left the gate open when you came back and a ton of Mexicans flooded in."

Bush laughed. "Yeah, I 'accidentally' left it open. There's nothing I love more than flooding this country with Mexicans. Know who I hate, Snowman?"

"The American people?"

"Yep. They're whiny."

Harry Reid stormed into the room. "We Democrats have our new plan for your war." He slammed the plan down on Bush's desk.

Bush looked the plan over. "This isn't a war plan! This is a losing plan!" Bush leaped over the desk and grabbed Reid. "I told you I don't want to hear anymore of you Democrats and losing!" He started slamming Reid's head into the desk over and over while screaming, "No losing! No losing!" After a few seconds, he stopped and looked at Tony. "Slamming his head into the desk just isn't working anymore. I think I need to slam the desk into his head. You hold him still on the ground and then I'll push the desk over on top of his face."

Reid struggled free and ran away. "You're crazy! You even tried to hit Nancy Pelosi with a car!"

"I thought she was a muskrat!" Bush shouted back. "If you ever come here again to talk about losing, I'll murder you dead!"

"I don't think that's the way to get bipartisan support, sir," Tony said.

Bush sat back behind his desk. "I'm going to flood Nevada with Mexicans; that will teach him."

Tony noticed a weird device on a shelf. "What's this?"

"I heard all about this thing called global warming," Bush explained, "so I bought that to measure my carbon footprint."

Tony looked at it more careful. "The meter is all the way at maximum."

"Yeah, I was burning tires in here earlier. Carbon is important for life, you know; we're carbon-based lifeforms."

"I had heard that. Anyway, Mr. President, what should we do about the new flood of illegal immigrants?"

"The usual. Give them the jobs of hardworking Americans and tell anyone who complains to stop hating brown people."

Tony sighed. "I love press conferences." He slowly walked out of the Oval Office.

"Next time you come back, make sure you have ice cream!" Bush went back to reading his comic books. "Idiot."

"The supervillian Lewis Libby, better known as 'The Scooter' has finally been brought to justice," the anchorman announced. "Though he was found not guilty on charges of trying to mutate D.C.'s population by contaminating the water supply, trying to take over the world through mind control embedded in pop songs, and holding Canada hostage with a stolen Russian nuclear bomb, he was convicted for lying during an investigation of the outing of a non-secret agent."

The TV showed The Scooter being brought to jail. "No prison can hold me!" he shouted. "You'll pay for this! You all will! I'll lie in investigations of non-crimes until all society falls apart! Muh ha ha ha!"

On screen came Patrick Fitzgerald. "I want everyone to know that there is no need for further indictments now that The Scooter is behind bars. You can finally all sleep soundly tonight, citizens." He then fired his grappling gun into the air and zipped away.

President Bush turned off the TV and shivered. "To think that such a monster had been a part of my administration!"

"I just can't believe anyone thought I had anything to do with him," Dick Cheney said.

Bush nodded. "That is crazy. You can't be evil; you love kittens."

"I do love kittens." Cheney reached into a bowl of kittens, took a handful of them, and swallowed them whole. "Mmm... fresh kittens."

"And then people were also besmirching the character of Karl Rove!" Bush exclaimed. "Sweet cuddly Rover who loves children so much!"

"Only their souls," hissed a voice in the shadows.

"Well, we have to be more careful who we associate with," Bush said. "Anyway, I have Ann Coulter coming over to help write my next speech."

Cheney dipped a kitten in ranch dressing. "I thought she was busy leading hordes of college Republicans to beat up gay people."

"Oh yeah." Bush shrugged. "That's why Coulter is worth the price; you get more than just a speech from her."

There was a knock at the door of the Oval Office. Bush answered and outside stood John Edwards. "Ann Coulter said mean things about me, so please help me raise $100,000."

Bush reached for his wallet. "Sure thing, Kenneth."

"Kenneth? Who do you think I am?"

Bush stared at him. "Aren't you that nice kid from 30 Rock?"

"I'm former Senator John Edwards!"

"What?" Bush put his wallet away. "I bet you have more than $100,000 in your wallet right now! What would you use the money for, anyway? Add another wing to the doghouse behind your mansion?"

"I'm actually more of a cat person."

Bush sighed. "Of course you are."

"Was that a slur!" Edwards shouted.

"No, but I'm thinking of some!" Bush punched Edwards in the nose and slammed the door. He then turned to Cheney and said proudly, "I punched John Edwards in the nose."

"I saw. Very decisive."

"So what's next? Do the Democrats have a new plan for failure in Iraq?"

"No, just an old plan with a new name. They're calling it a 'Reverse-Momentum Surge.'"

"Ooh!" Bush rifled through his desk drawer. "I should trick sign with invisible ink! That should be hilarious!"

"I don't know if they'll fall for that a tenth time."

Air raid sirens started blaring. "Aieee!" Bush ducked behind his desk. "The Scooter has escaped!"

The Scooter smashed through the window on his flying rocket hover scooter. "Knoxville is the capital of Tennessee!"

Bush stood up and pointed an accusing finger at The Scooter. "That's a lie! You're just lucky I'm not conducting a federal investigation!"

"Muh ha ha ha!" The Scooter laughed as he flew away.

Cheney surveyed the damage. "Well... that could be trouble. So where is the nearest microwave?"

"You're not melting cheese on a kitten!"

"Yay! Pudding cup time!" President Bush exclaimed as he eagerly tore off the plastic cover and grabbed a spoon. "Nothing better than pudding cup time."

"We need to talk to you!" Harry Reid and John Murtha barged into the Oval Office.

"Hey! No one is supposed to bother me during pudding cup time... unless it's about pudding!"

"We have important things to discuss with you!" Reid said.

"No you don't! You're Democrats!" Bush pulled his pudding cup close to him so they wouldn't steal it.

"You're going to lose this war and we'll make sure!" Murtha said. "We passed a non-binding resolution in the House against your surge!"

"You're a surge!" Bush shouted.

"You're wit is as sharp as always," Reid said, "but that won't save you when I finally get my cloture vote to pass a non-binding resolution against you in the Senate!"

"You'll never get a cloture vote because you have no penis!"

"You have no proof of that!"

Bush waved his pudding spoon at them. "You Democrats are bad bad people! Did either of you think of how this sort of thing will affect the troops?"

* * * *

"I heard the Democrats passed a non-binding resolution," Gomez the Marine said as he patrolled a street in Iraq. "Any idea what that is?"

"No," Buck the Marine answered, "but I'm guessing from context it's some sort of homosexual sex act."

* * * *

"Enough talk!" Murtha shouted. He held up a piece of paper. "This is a non-binding arrest warrant for your illegal warring! Now I'm going put you in non-binding cuffs." He placed handcuffs on Bush that promptly fell off. "Just wait until your non-binding trial when I read all these non-binding charges in this non-binding binder!" He held up a binder and all the papers fell out of it.

"Why are your pants around your ankles?" Bush asked. "Is your belt-buckle non-binding?"

"That plant is laughing at me!" Murtha shouted and pointed.

Bush looked where Murtha was pointing. "That's a desk lamp."

"What Murtha is trying to say," Reid said, "is that you best declare your loss and end your war now! We Democrats will pester you until you have no hope but to--"

"Aieee!" Murtha screamed and jumped out the window.

"What was that about?" Bush asked.

Reid shrugged. "Who knows."

"You ever thought about putting him in a home?"

"Well... we're looking at a few different options... Anyway, your war is lost and there is nothing you can do to keep we Democrats from surrendering! Muh ha ha ha ha!" Reid then stood there for a moment. "Murtha had the car keys; can you call me a cab back to the Capitol?"

"No!" Bush threw a stapler at Reid who fled out the door. "Back to pudding cup time!" Bush was about to take a spoonful, but Condoleezza Rice rushed in and grabbed the pudding cup.

"Pudding cup time is over. You have to work on foreign affairs!"

"Nooooooooooo!" Bush yelled and pounded his desk. "Hey, Condi, which party controls Congress right now?"

"The Democrats."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Then why do they seem even more useless than before?"

"The Democrats and the terrorists have never agreed on anything," Representative John Murtha told the press, "Well, we both think that the Iraq war was a mistake, we oppose America acting unilaterally, we hate President Bush and everything he stands for, and we use troop deaths as an indication that our views are correct - but other than all that, we Democrats and the terrorists are complete opposites on everything. That is until today when we've come together to oppose Bush's new troop escalation."

"Bush is an infidel and a joooo!" the terrorist next to Murtha shouted.

Murtha chuckled. "Exactly. That why the terrorists and I have come up with a plan to finally end the war in Iraq. I call it the 'slow-bleed' strategy. At home, we Democrats will use our legislative powers to limit the number of troops available for Bush's war. In Iraq, the terrorists will use their guns and bombs to also limit the number of troops available. Together, we'll make sure that eventually there will be no troops in Iraq."

The press was stunned silent. One reporter finally said, "Uh... I'm from the New York Times, and even I think that might be treason."

"Treasonous like a fox!" Murtha said.

"New York is full of joooos!" the terrorist added.

Another reporter stepped forward. "I'm Melinda Hawkish from FOX News, and I have a question for the terrorist."

"What is it, filthy harlot?" the terrorist asked.

Melinda pulled out a gun and shot the terrorist in the kneecaps. She then took out a package of uncooked bacon and began shoving it into the terrorists mouth. "You want bacon? You want bacon?"

"That's unnecessarily combative!" Murtha shouted.

Melinda dropped the bacon. "Well, the only other questions FOX News is allowing me to ask are about Anna Nicole Smith."

"This press conference is over!" Murtha said. "Death to America!"

* * * *

Somewhere in Iraq, Buck the Marine was watching the news on TV with fellow Marines. "You ever get the feeling some of the America people and politicians don't support us?" Buck asked.

"It's not like they want us dead," Gomez said. "They just want us to lose and be humiliated."

"I thought I once heard that Murtha was a Marine," Johnson said.

"That's just a lie the enemy put out there to demoralize us," Buck responded. "Don't believe a word of it."

"I would like to announce I'm now officially running for president," Rudy Giuliani announced to a cheering crowd of Republicans. "Terrorists came to my city, and now it's time for me to come after them. The way to do that is to become president." He held up a blood-stained tire iron. "See the blood on this. I saw someone who looked like a terrorist on the way over here and I beat him to death with this tire iron. That's how much I hate terrorists. If elected president, I promise to personally kill terrorists. You will constantly see me caked in blood and you can be sure that it will be the blood of terrorists... or possibly panhandlers."

"Will you also kill hobos?" a Republican asked.

"Only if they panhandle."

"Killing terrorists is great, but what about your stance on abortion?" said another Republican.

"I understand there is some concern from many Republicans about my support for keeping abortion legal," Rudy said, "I want you to know that I am not changing my position on that; who I am is who I am, and you should know I won't change my positions just to help myself politically. But I don't want people to think I'm some sort of pro-abortion fanatic. To prove that, I'm inviting a pregnant woman to stand next to me."

A pregnant woman walked on to the stage and Rudy stood next to her, occasionally glancing towards her uncomfortably. "See. I'm perfectly fine not aborting that baby," he said. "I'm not fanatic."

"The way you're looking at her... it kinda seems like you really want to abort that baby," a Republican said.

"That's ridiculous." He shushed the woman away. "Now, I think that should be enough to let conservatives know that it's okay to vote for me."

"But what about guns?" a Republican asked. "Don't you want to take them away from people?"

"That's absurd. I respect gun rights."

"But aren't you taking away that guy's gun right now?"

Rudy looked down at the gun in his hands he had just taken from someone of the crowd. "I simply took it so I could look at and admire the gun."

"So why don't you give it back now?"

Rudy paused for a moment. "Maybe later." He put the gun in his coat pocket.

"I knew it!" shouted a Republican. "Rudy Giuliani is an abortion-loving, gun-grabbing liberal!"

"Who will personally beat terrorists to death with a tire iron!" Rudy shook his bloody tire iron in the air to applause of the crowd.

* * * *

"It's going to be tough to run against Rudy Giuliani," President Bush told his wife as he turned off the TV. "I better get started on my campaigning now if I want to be reelected in 2008."

"You can't reelected in 2008, dear," Laura told him.

"Oh yeah... because my poll numbers are so low, right?"

Laura rolled her eyes. "Yes, because your poll numbers are so low."

Senator Hagel stared straight into the camera. "I want the American people to know that the President has made a disaster in Iraq, and thus I oppose the surge."

"Now, Senator Hagel," Chris Wallace, "what do you say to... uh... could you face me please?"

Hagel grudgingly turned from the camera to look at Wallace.

"What do you say to your critics who say since the build up to war in Iraq and until now you've been nothing but a media whore and a douche?"

Hagel turned back to the camera. "When someone has the courage to say what needs to be said, he will inevitably come under attack." He looked back to Wallace. "Can you set it up so I can see myself on TV as I talk?"

President Bush turned off the TV. "I don't think I like Chuck Hagel. How much do you think it would cost to fire him into the sun?"

"The lowest bid I got was five billion dollars," Condoleezza Rice said.

Bush thought about that. "That's a lot of money."

Condi shrugged. "The more time goes by, the less it seems."

"Eh, I guess firing him into the sun is a bad idea," Bush said. "We need to worry about getting back the majority in the Senate, plus a big space launch will only give him the media attention he so craves. Maybe since he likes to get his face on TV, an ironic punishment would be to burn his face off with acid."

"Acid is cheaper," Condi said, "but you always end up inhaling the fumes and waking up in a hospital bed."

"Yeah, I'm no good with acid. How about we have Rumsfeld's angry dog attack him. Media whore's make him angry. Very angry."

"Rumsfeld resigned, remember? You now have Robert Gates has your Secretary of Defense."

"Oh. Does he have an angry dog?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"How about some sort of agitated cat, then?"

Condi shook her head.

"Well, I'll just have to think of some appropriate ironic way to get back at that annoying media whore." Bush put on his thinking cowboy hat. "You'll have to leave me alone with my thoughts, Condi. By the way, did I ever tell you how clean you are?"

"I'm leaving now."

* * * *

"Things are complicated, Tim," Hagel said.

"You've been saying they are complicated since before the war," Tim Russert responded. "Are things now even more complicatedier?"

"Well... that's complicated."

A wrecking ball smashed through the set, hitting Hagel and sending him barreling into a camera. In through the new hole walked President Bush. "Ha!" he shouted as he pointed at Hagel.

"Did you just hit Senator Hagel with a wrecking ball?" Russert asked in disbelief.

"I sure did!" Bush said proudly. "It was an ironic punishment for him being such a media whore."

"How was that ironic."

Bush shrugged. "Uh... because he never like getting hit with a wrecking ball."

"You don't know what irony means, do you?"

"Hey, I'm not stupid!" Bush shouted. "I obviously know how to work a wrecking ball as I only smashed three other buildings before I hit this one proper." Bush looked to Hagel. "You think he's dead?"

"Wrecking balls can have that effect," Russert said.

Bush looked to Hagel again. "I wonder if I should do something." He thought for a moment. "I think I'll go get lunch."

"...and that's why I think we have a real plan for Iraq," Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice told the Foreign Relations Committee.

Her words were met with laughter.

Condi looked around with confusion. "What?"

Senatorette Barbra Boxer looked down upon Condi with scorn. "Really, do you think that in this day and age, with as advanced as we are as a society, that we'll sit here and listen to the opinions of a childless black woman?"

Condi was taken aback. "Um... I'm not following."

"I think my point was very clear!" Boxer shrieked. "If you don't understand it, it's too bad you don't have children who can explain it to you like mine showed me how to use a Tivo. Anyway, I don't see any further reason to listen to you on this subject."

"So what your saying is that, even though I have a Ph.D in political science, was a professor at Stanford, was the National Security Advisor and am currently the Secretary of State, I can't offer an opinion on foreign affairs because I lack children?"

"Exactly! Do you know why, Madame Secretary, we made Representative Nancy Pelosi Speaker of the House?"

Condi thought about that. "I'm going to guess it's not because of qualifications or personality."

"It's because she's a grandmother!" Boxer said and pounded the table. "Only someone with lots of children can understand that it better to pretend we're safe now and do nothing than to go out there and stop probable future attacks. It's simple head in the sand thinking that a barren Negress just wouldn't understand!"

Condi looked around her table.

"What are you doing?" Boxer demanded.

"I'm trying to find something to throw at your head... something less cumbersome than a chair..."

"I'm just speaking truth to power!" Boxer shouted. "And, as a Senator from the most heavily populated state in America, you must listen to me!"

"Speaking truth to power to would be one of California's overtaxed citizens telling you your haircut is kinda dykey." Condi continued to fiddle with something on the table.

Boxer put her hands on her ears. "You don't have children so I can't hear you! La la la... AHHH!"

* * * *

"Senator Boxer became knocked unconscious when a microphone stand became loose during a Foreign Relations Committee meeting," the FOX News anchor stated. "She is wished a slow recovery. Now stay tuned for an hour of Bill O'Reilly yelling at people!"

"We're doing air strikes on Somalia!" President Bush exclaimed as he sat down in front of his TV.

"I noticed," Tony Snow said. "You believe you saw al Qaeda there, correct?"

Bush shrugged. "We thought we saw something there. Hey, know what, Tony? I can do air strikes without congressional approval. I was thinking that, with the new Democrat Congress, I should focus on things that don't require congressional approval like bombing the crap out of stuff. Know what also doesn't require congressional approval?" Bush opened a bag of chips. "Eating a whole bag of Doritos in one sitting!" He ate his chips while watching footage of the air strikes.

"Not to disturb you from your exercise of Executive power," Tony said, "but have you worked on your State of the Union Address?"

"Bah. Everyone will be too distracted by Pelosi's plastered on face leering over my shoulder to hear anything I say."

* * * *

"Let's begin the new era of Democratic leadership!" Nancy Pelosi announced to the House. "As you can see, I'm surrounded by my grandchildren, because I'm not only the Speaker, I'm a grandmother."

"What's their names?" a Republican asked.

Pelosi was quiet for a moment as she looked over the children. "Uh... this isn't about me."

"And they're awfully quiet. I'm just taking a guess here, but did you cut out their tongues because they were noisy?"

"No more questions! On to business!" Pelosi banged her gavel. "Now, on to the most important issue facing this country!"

"You guys are actually going to do something about terrorism?" a Republican asked skeptically.

The Democrats laughed. "I was talking about the minimum wage," Pelosi said. "The American people sent a message this past election, and that message was that they wanted their government to pretend there is no terrorist problem and instead focus on inane crap and entitlements... and who better to do that than we Democrats?"

"Can we make the minimum wage thirty dollars... but exempt congressman's chauffeurs from it?" one Democrat asked.

"That's a great idea!" Pelosi answered.

"I'd just like to point out that it looks like there are some Islamic terrorists in this room right now plotting something," a Republican said and pointed to a group of Muslims fiddling with what looked like a bomb.

Pelosi sighed. "I know you Republicans want to distract us with your fears of 'terrorism,' but we are only going to focus on real issues that help real Americans."

"Can we have a bill giving everyone free candy?" a Democratic asked.

"Another great idea from the Democrats!" Pelosi exclaimed. "This is going to be such a productive first one hundred hours! Now, let's open the floor to candy suggestions."

"I really think those guys are working on a bomb to kill us all and that we should probably do something about it," said another Republican. "Can we stop them and talk about free candy later."

"Republican scare tactic!" screamed a Democrat. "They're trying to derail our agenda with their scare tactics about terrorism! Republican scare tactic!"

One of the terrorists fired an AK-47, hitting the Democrat. "Whoops, my bad," the terrorist said. "His yelling scared me."

The fatally wounded Democrat fell to the floor. "I want... people to know... that my death... was nothing but a Republican scare tactic..."

Pelosi looked down at him. "Well, he's dead. I knew this majority was going to be hard to keep together."

"If we're not going to do something about the terrorists, can we at least do something about illegal immigration?" a Republican asked. "It looks like about a third of the House has been taken over by them, and one of them tried to stab me."

Pelosi scowled at him. "Why do you hate brown people?"

The Republican thought for a moment. "Well, first off, they have shifty eyes. Second..."

"No no!" another Republican whispered to him. "That was a rhetorical question to accuse you of racism! Don't answer it!"

"I have another item for our agenda," Barney Frank said. "We should pass a resolution condemning Bush for his ethnic cleansing of Somalia. Obviously, the point of these air strikes is to get all the black people out of Somalia! Next, I bet he'll blow up their levees. If we--"

"Point of order," a Republican interrupted. "Is Barney Frank gay or retarded?"

"I can be both!"

Pelosi banged her gavel. "Let's go back to the matter at hand: free candy. Now, if we cut funding for Bush's war in Iraq, I think we can get every American a Snickers bar. Other options are..." One of the terrorists walked up to Pelosi, and she stared back at him. "What? This better be important because we were talking about free candy!"

He whispered in her ear.

"Fine." Pelosi turned back to face the House. "Anyone have spare wire cutters?"

PREVIOUSLY ON "IN MY WORLD"

* * * *

Detective Ian Competent shined a bright light into Donald Rumsfeld's eyes. "So how many people have you strangled to death?"

Rumsfeld rubbed his knuckles. "Apparently not enough."

Detective Competent slammed his hands down on the table. "You think this is funny?!"

"I don't ever think anything is funny," Rumsfeld answered. "Laughing is for homosexuals."

"Well you won't be homosexual over this." Detective Competent threw some photos of people strangled to death down in front of Rumsfeld. "Do you recognize these?"

Rumsfeld adjusted his glasses and looked at the photos. "Yes. These are the photos I sent you of the people I strangled. I wanted to make sure you knew who strangled them because I don't want someone else taking credit from my stranglings. That would just mean more people to strangle."

"Don't try and talk your way out of this one!" Detective Competent shouted. "We have evidence you strangled these people! Diplomats, hippies, French people - all dead because of you!"

Rumsfeld yawned. "Now you're just quoting my resume. I thought we were clear on all this? I usually came in and told you guys who I was going to strangle before hand to once again make sure no one take credit for my stranglings." Rumsfeld got angry. "Is someone taking credit for my strangling?!"

Detective Competent laughed. "I bet you never thought we'd figure it out."

"What's to figure out? I left you guys notes and everything so you wouldn't waste time on this."

Detective Competent stared Rumsfeld right in the eyes. "Do you know what the punishment is for mass murderers in Washington D.C.?"

Rumsfeld thought for a moment. "I think it's a fifteen dollar fine."

"Wrong!" Detective Competent slammed his fists down on the table. "In an effort to crack down on murder sprees, the fine has been increased to forty dollars." He paused for a second. "Of course, the law change isn't retroactive, and since your murderers predate it, I guess your fine is still fifteen dollars." He shrugged. "So, yeah, I guess you're right; it's fifteen dollars. Sorry for the outburst."

"Rarr!" Rumsfeld burst to his feet. "I'm not paying that! Everyone I strangled deserved it!"

"If you don't pay your fine, it's prison for you! And then you can strangle rocks all day! Now, another question: You know anything about the kids disappearing in your neighborhood? We thought that would stop when we took you in, but, well..." He chuckled. "Whoops! Wrong again. Can't get them all right... or even most of them."

"That's my dog, Chomps," Rumsfeld said. "If not watched, he eats whiny little children. If watched, he eats less of them."

"Oh." Detective Competent thought about that. "Guess we can't do anything about it; it's not like laws apply to dogs. Anyway, I'm going to go talk to the press, and you can wait here and think about what you did." He left the interrogation room and locked the door.

Rumsfeld flexed his hands. "I'd rather think about what I'm going to do."

* * * *

"I, Ian Competent, the greatest Detective ever, have succeeded where other's failed and captured the Rumsfeld Strangler," Detective Competent told the press. "I'm sure I'll get the Medal of Honor or something for this. Make it clear to everyone that I'm open to negotiations for a book deal."

A police officer ran forward. "Donald Rumsfeld has escaped! He strangled the lock open!"

"What?! Where was did he go?"

"I think he passed through here."

Detective Competent noticed that all the reporters had been strangled. "Dang it!"

* * * *

"President Bush, you may be interested to know that an APB has been put out for Donald Rumsfeld and his angry dog too," Tony Snow said. "The orders are to shoot to kill."

President Bush chuckled. "That's wacky Rumsfeld. I knew he'd keep himself busy even without being Secretary of Defense anymore. Well, I hope the new guy will do well. What did Rummy call him again?"

"A 'fruit.'"

Bush laughed again. "He was always accusing everyone of being homosexuals. I'll miss that." Bush held up the Iraq Study Group report. "Did you see this, Snowman? We have our plan to win!"

"Uh... did you actually read that?"

"No. I don't... you know... read things. Why? What's it say?"

"It's a plan to withdraw from Iraq," Tony explained. "It also calls for talks with Syria and Iran to help with Iraq."

Bush tossed the study. "Was that the 'Iraq Study Group' or the 'Crack Smoking Group'? We should make a new group with people who actually like to win wars. You think we can find some of them?"

Tony sighed. "Yeah; maybe."

"Maybe I'll just do my own study group with my GI Joe action figures," Bush mused. "They never give up in their battle with the dreaded Cobra."

"Unfortunately, I think that's your best idea so far this year, sir."

"If I include the Transformers in this study group, do I need to include both the Autobots and the Decepticons to make it bipartisan?"

Tony was about to respond, but then his cell phone rang and he answered it.

"What is it?" Bush asked.

Tony put away his phone. "Apparently, every member of the Iraq Study Group has been strangled."

"That's odd. Do you think the murders are related?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "It crossed my mind. I'm going to go talk to the press and then cry myself to sleep."

"Have fun!" When Tony left, Bush opened the drawer on his desk that contained his action figures and rummaged through them. "I need to find Admiral Ackbar; he'll know what to do."

"All I'm saying is that we need a draft because our military is full of morons," Representative Charlie Rangel told Chris Wallace. "Most who join the military are people who wandered into a recruiting office thinking it was a candy store and then were too stupid to figure out how to use the door knob to get out. By drafting smarter people into the military, we'll free up the mentally handicapped who currently serve so they can go back to sweeping the floors at McDonalds."

"Do you really think it's wise to talk about the troops in such a demeaning way?" Wallace asked.

"We Democrats made our complete and utter contempt for the military clear before the election and take the result of the election to mean that the American people share our contempt for the inbred morons we now have risking their lives overseas."

President Bush shut off the TV. "I wish that man would just SHUT UP!"

Tony Snow nodded. "What he's saying is pretty despicable."

"Oh, I was just talking about his voice; it's so annoying and raspy." Bush looked to Tony with concern. "Why? What was he saying? Was it about me?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I have to explain to the press how you missed your last speech because you got trapped in a bathroom stall again."

"Okay, but have you seen Rummy around?"

"I believe he was last seen being lead away by police as the suspect for a long series of serial killings."

Bush chuckled. "That wacky Rummy; what mischief will he get into next."

Tony left and a group of fat Republican Congressman smoking cigars entered the Oval Office. Bush looked at his schedule. "I'm supposed to meet with the new Republican leadership now, but you guys look like the old leadership."

"Ha!" Roy Blunt laughed, his belly shaking like a bowl full of tax money. "We didn't see any reason to change leadership. We're the Republican Party and we know what's best."

"But won't the base be unhappy with no changes after the big election loss?" Bush asked.

"Our response to the Republican base will be to punch them in the face, knock them down into a puddle, spit on them, and then yell, 'What are you going to do? Start your own party?'" Blunt and the rest of the Congressman then laughed.

Bush thought for a moment. "I don't think they'll like that."

"So what? What are they going to do? Start their own party?" Representative Boehner demanded.

Bush shrugged. "Yeah, I guess they can't do that. It's not like they're going to vote for whatever dyed blue freak holding a ferret the Libertarians are fielding either." He then noticed Trent Lott was with the group. "Hey, I thought he got thrown out of leadership years ago."

"But I'm back now!" Lott exclaimed. "And I'm the new minority whip in the Senate!" He pulled out a whip and cracked it in the air. "That's right! I'm going to whip me some minorities! Gonna whip the black right off 'em!"

Blunt shrugged. "We'll talk to him."

"So what are we going to do about the border issue?" Bush asked. "Everyone keeps yelling at me over that one."

Blunt thought about it. "Well, I mentioned how we are going to punch the Republican base in the face. I guess we can also yell at them to stop hating brown people. It's not like we want to stop Mexicans from getting in here; if we don't get more of them, who will cut my lawn? You?"

"Sure, I can do it," Bush said. "With my new lame duck status, I have more free time."

"Nah... you'd do it all wrong. It has to be done my Mexicans."

Bush shook his head. "I dunno. A lot of people are going to get angry if we don't at least pretend to do something about illegal immigration."

"I'll stop the Mexicans!" Lott shouted. "I'll whip the chalupas right out of their hands." He cracked his whip some more.

Bush looked back towards Blunt. "You are going to talk to him, right?"

"Eh, I don't see any reason to worry. Remember, all we have to do is be better than the Democrats. That's like trying to out run an invalid; why even break a sweat?"

"I guess that makes sense. Does Rove approve of all of this?"

The hooded figure of Karl Rove emerged from the shadows. "Everything is going according to plan."

"And you do have an actual plan, right?" Bush asked. "This isn't like how Battlestar Gallatica starts by saying the Cylons have a plan but with each new episode you doubt that even more?"

Karl Rove laughed an evil laugh and disappeared back into the shadows.

"Well, we better get back to work," Blunt said. "It's not like the Republican base will punch themselves. Isn't that right, Representative Coca-Cola?"

A Congressman nodded in approval.

Bush furrowed his brow. "Representative Coca-Cola?"

"I sold my last name out as advertising space!" Coca-Cola said.

"Is that a conflict of interest?"

Coca-Cola began to advance on Bush, but Blunt grabbed his shoulder. "We're not allowed to punch him in the face."

The Congressmen left and Bush sat down at his desk and took a Nintendo DS out of a drawer. "Man, this job got less stressful when I realized that, whether I'm achieving great things or I'm a lame duck who spends all day playing videogames, I still get paid the same."

"Do I really have to have Nancy Pelosi behind me when I give my State of the Union Address?" President Bush asked as he and Tony Snow walked by the Pentagon.

"That's usually the custom."

"But what if she's plotting to eat my skin?! She just has that look on her face like she's just waiting for someone to drop his guard so she can kill him and eat his skin!"

"You'll just have to risk it, I guess."

There was a loud crash, and Bush looked up to see a desk smashing through the wall of the Pentagon and fall to the ground. "Rumsfeld must be moving his things."

There was another crash, and Ted Kennedy flew through a wall and plummeted to the ground.

"I think he's mad."

Tony nodded. "That's always a good assumption."

They ran inside to find Rumsfeld destroying his office.

"Isn't retirement great?" Bush asked.

"Rarr!" Rumsfeld yelled, and took a swing at Bush. Bush ducked and Rumsfeld punched out the wall behind him.

Bush dusted drywall off his suit jacket. "I thought you were giving a press conference about your leaving?"

"I was, but the reporters questioned my ability so I strangled them all." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "The weirdest thing was the surprised looks on their faces as I killed them... like they actually expected anything else to happen."

Bush noticed a document lying on the ground and picked it up. "What this?"

"It's my severance package; why don't they just take me out into a field and shoot me?!" Rumsfeld growled. "The Democrats are going to cut and run; they are going to make America lose. I must kill them all." He stormed off.

"Have fun," Bush said, not looking up from the severance package he was reading.

Tony looked towards the exiting Rumsfeld. "Do you think we should do try and stop Rumsfeld before he hurts someone?"

"I have an even better idea!" Bush exclaimed. "I'm going to get fired!"

"Um... what?!"

"Do you see how generous this severance package is?" Bush handed the paper to Tony. "Government jobs are sweet! I totally could totalyl be sitting pretty on this severance package! I don't want to be a lame duck getting yelled at for the next two years while the Dems screw everything up; I want to relax in Texas and play golf. I just have to get my self fired."

"I'm not thinking that's the best idea, sir."

"And I'm thinking it's the best idea ever! The Dems already hate me, I just need to get the Republicans to hate me too. What issue does the base really care about?"

"Well, a lot of them don't like your plans on immigration and--"

"Perfect!" Bush rubbed his greedy hands together. "I got an idea to so get me fired and make that sweet sweet severance package mine." He thought for a moment. "Now, do I have enough time to first grow a Hitler mustache?"

Tony sighed. "Where's the nearest bar."

"I think Ted's still on the street outside; he'll know."

* * * *

"I'd like to unveil the new RNC Chair," Bush told the press. "Mel Martinez." Bush pulled the canvas sack off of Mel's head.

"That wasn't a veil and it was completely unnecessary," Mel said.

Bush patted him on the back. "Good 'ole Mel!"

A reporter stepped forward. "Melinda Hawkish, FOX News. Is this selection of Senator Martinez an indication you are surrendering on the illegal immigration issue and going to grant amnesty?"

"Not amnesty, a guest worker program," Mel said.

"That's right," Bush added. "Completely different things... just like cut and run versus phased withdrawal. Mel isn't pro-illegal immigrant, and anyone who disagrees with me on this is a xenophobic racist who should die. Right, Mel?"

"Well--"

"Why is his mere presence causing this press conference to be flooded with illegal immigrants, then?" Melinda persisted.

"Shut up, you right-wing, FOX News nazi!" Bush shouted. "You and everyone who watches your news station just hates brown people!"

The press cheered Bush. He leaned over to whisper to Mel, "When Republicans see the press cheer me on, it's going to make them so angry that I'm totally getting fired!"

"You're doing what now?"

"Why wasn't Michael Steele given this position?" another reporter asked.

"He was too dynamic and conservative," Bush answered. "Plus, I hate black people. Didn't you ever listen to that whiner Kanye West? I mean I hate black people so much I blew up the levees in New Orleans. That's just the kind of president I am." He looked into one of the cameras. "And there's nothing any of you can do to stop me!"

"I would just like to mention that I don't hate black people," Mel said meekly.

Bush slapped him on the back. "See, Mel is a stand up guy. He'll be perfect to welcome in our new Mexican migrant worker overlords, perhaps placating them with his own Mexican-ness."

"I was born in Cuba, actually, and--"

Bush smiled. "And he's a foreigner! A Commie foreigner! That's right, I put a Commie foreigner in charge of the RNC and there is nothing other Republicans can do about it!"

"I'm an American and I'm not a Com--"

"Don't be modest, Mel! He's here to lead the Republican Party into a new era of crazy foreignness full of Communism and illegal Mexicans! And no one - no one - can stop me! Muh ha ha ha!"

"Are you trying to get fired?" a reporter asked.

Bush paused for a moment. "I dunno... you think it's working?"

"No one watches these... except maybe a few bloggers."

"But they write lots of e-mails and that can make stuff happen, right?" Bush asked hopefully.

The reporter shook his head. "They just go into the spam folder."

Bush stomped his foot. "But I wanna get fired!"

"Do you know anything about the police finally closing in on a suspect in the 'Rumsfeld Strangler' case?" a reporter asked.

Bush furrowed his brow. "Who is doing what now?"

* * * *

Rumsfeld rested in his easy chair with Chomps his rottweiler napping angrily next to him. Rumsfeld held a pen and a pad of paper. "Now to make a list of Democrats to strangle to make America safer." He thought for a moment. "Eh, probably easier to make a list of Democrats not to strangle." He started writing. "Joe Lieb--"

His front door was kicked in and in barged DC Detective Ian Competent flanked by police.

Chomps growled. Rumsfeld looked up and said, "This better be important; I have lots of people to kill!"

"You'll only be killing people in prison now... Rumsfeld Strangler!"

TO BE CONTINUED...

"Well... that sucked."

Dick Cheney leaned back in his chair. "Maybe you suck."

Bush jumped to his feet. "No! You suck!" He turned to hooded figure of Karl Rove. "I thought you were rigging the Diebold machines!"

"Well... they were more complex than I foretold. Plus, you suck."

"You suck!" Bush shouted back, but Rove had disappeared back into the shadows.

"Why don't we stop fighting and just admit we all suck," Condoleezza Rice suggested.

"Well, people seem to like me," Tony Snow said.

Everyone in the room glared at him. "Get the hell out of here, Tony!"

Tony shrugged and headed out of the room. "Fine. Didn't want to be around you losers anyway."

Part of the wall began to disintegrate as if the atoms themselves were being torn apart. Through the hole stepped Joe Lieberman. "I have power beyond imagination!" Lieberman exclaimed.

"That's super," Bush said unenthusiastically.

"The balance of the Senate now rests in my hands! I have such power that I can even bend space and time!" A disgusting creature then came scampering in behind Lieberman, crouched over and looking quite pathetic.

"What's that?" Bush asked.

"That's one of those fool bloggers who tried to stand against me," Lieberman said darkly. "I have used my new power to enslave him. His job is to lick my shoes."

"Have mercy on poor Moulitsas!" the wretched thing pleaded. "Do pity me!"

"No!" Lieberman punched the thing in the face.

"Ever think about joining the Republicans?" Bush asked Lieberman hopefully.

Lieberman thought for a moment. "No... you guys are kinda a bunch of losers."

Bush leapt to his feet once more. "You're a loser!"

With a wave of his hand, Lieberman sent Bush flying back against the wall. Lieberman then turned and left with the pitiful creature following close behind.

Bush dusted himself off. "What's Pelosi doing now, anyway?"

"I think having her face stretched," Condi said.

Bush shuddered. "I can't deal with her; I'm always afraid she's going to shoot blood out of her eyes at me. I'll need people to check in on the Congress for me." He looked to the door and shouted, "Interns!"

Bill and Jill the interns came running. "Hey!" Bill the intern exclaimed. "Aren't elections exciting?"

"I still haven't calmed down from voting," Jill the intern said. "Yay!"

"I know things didn't turn out as you wanted, President Bush," Bill the interned said, "but you should still be happy because democracy is fan-tastic!"

Jill the intern jumped up and down. "Yay democracy! Yay America!"

Bush groaned. "Whatever. I need you to talk to the crazy Democrats in Congress for me. Be careful of Pelosi; she may try to suck the marrow from your bones."

"We won't let you down, President Bush," Bill the intern assured him.

"Hooray! I love going to the Capitol!" Jill the intern shouted as the two left.

"I really hope they die." Bush looked to his staff. ""Well, I better talk to the American people now and tell them what's what."

"You going to tell them you suck?" Cheney asked.

"You suck!"

* * * *

Bush sat at his desk in the Oval Office and looked into the camera. "Hello, American peoples. I see you decided to elect some Democrats yesterday. Fine; you can do what you want, I guess. I mean, you elected me twice. Still, I am your president and am very powerful." He shook his finger at the camera. "Do not anger me. I will bomb you from the sky just like I bombed countless others.

"As for the Democrats, they may have the House and even the Senate, but I still have my... VETO PEN!" Bush held up his pen proudly.

"That's a crayon!" Condi shouted from behind the camera.

Bush looked at it. "Sky blue... oh." He dropped it and started rifling through the drawers in his desk. "It's around here somewhere; I mean, I think I used it once." He stopped searching and faced the camera. "Well, I do have a veto pen, and I will find it. That's a warning to Democrats. And I also have this." He held up a jagged rock. "This is the rock I bash Democrats in the head with if they make me mad." He shook the rock at the camera. "Don't make me mad!

"Now, many of you may wonder what will happen with the terrorists. Well, I will still pursue them, and, if the Democrats get in my way, I will use my veto pen and my Democrat bashing rock. When I get to the terrorists, I'll bash them with my terrorist bashing rock!" He looked around. "Where is it?"

Condi held up a rock. "Is this it?"

"No; that's my hippy bashing rock."

Condi found a bloodstained rock. "Is this it?"

"That's it. Gimmee gimmee!"

Condi handed over the rock. "It needs to be cleaned."

"I can't clean it or it won't be lucky anymore." Bush turned to the camera and shook the bloody rock at it. "I will find you and I will bash you with this rock, terrorists! Don't think the Democrats will stop me! If Reagan could still fight the Soviets with a Democratic Congress, then I can still find you terrorists and bash you with a rock even with Pelosi against me!"

"Yeah, but that was Reagan and you're you," Condi said.

"Shut up!" Bush shouted. "Don't make me find a Condi rock!"

"Whatever. You done with this? I'm going to go get some lunch."

"Can you pick me up something?"

"No." Condi walked off.

"I'm still powerful!" Bush yelled. He looked to the camera. "Now how do I turn this off? Oh... I think I have a rock for that."

"John Kerry has been criticized from all side for remarks thought to be critical of troops' intelligence," the anchorman said. "We now go live for his statement on this issue."

John Kerry stood at a podium looking as angry as the Botox allowed him. "How could anyone every think that I, a highly decorated veteran who, by the way, served in Vietnam, would insult the troops... other than those time I did so in front of Congress and on national television? It's preposterous. Only someone as dishonest as a common Army soldier would assert such a thing. I'm sure you all understand this, because you're not a bunch of retard Marines. So ignore the lies, especially if they come from lecherous Navy men. I would hope the media would correct the record, but there all as lazy as a member of the Air Force.

"In conclusion: Don't fall for the lies and be military stupid; instead, be Kerry smart!"

Dick Cheney turned off the television. "To think that the country was this close to electing the only person dumber than George Bush."

President Bush laughed. "Yeah, he's even dumber than... Hey!"

"Who were those monkeys in the crowd that were jumping up and down?" Condoleezza Rice asked.

"The KosKids," Cheney answered. "Kerry's combative response seems to have excited the liberal netroots. Then again, they'll latch on to about anything and go into a frenzy."

Bush scratched his head. "I thought they didn't like Kerry because of how he lost to me or how he didn't lose but also didn't contest Ohio or whatever the hell their crazy narrative is."

"Their memories don't last very long," Cheney explained. "Actually, the only things they can commit to long term memory are anything wrong they think you did."

Bush pumped his fists in the air. "I'm memorable!"

"So what do we do with this?" Condi asked.

Bush shrugged. "I guess I should ask Rove. I thought he had an October surprise, but nothing came up. I'm glad this happened though. Yay for dumb Democrats!"

* * * *

Bush went down into the catacombs beneath D.C. His path was lit only by his torch, and at his sides were the corpses of many political fortunes. "Rover!" Bush called out. "Rovey Rovey Rover!"

He tripped into a puddle which extinguished his torch. "Aww. Every time I disappear without a word and come back muddy, Laura yells at me."

Bush then heard two voices ahead. He crawled through the darkness until he spotted some more torchlight and the silhouettes of two figures.

"Your latest comments will cause more controversy," said a sinister voice. "Make sure to respond in an even more combative manner. That will alienate most voters while exciting the liberal netroots. We need those fools to remain active to win."

"Yes, my dark master," answered the second person.

Bush ran forward and saw it was Karl Rove and John Kerry. "What's going on here? Are you two working together?"

"Aieee! A surface-dweller!" Kerry screamed and then ran off into the darkness of the caves.

"Fool! You wanted an October surprise, and you got it!" Rove answered. "The genius of this one was that no one would suspect I was behind it if it appeared to be an unforced error from a Democrat."

"But how long has Kerry worked for you? I mean, during 2004..."

Rove chuckled. "To make sure you won, I needed someone who at first glance seemed electable but was actually unpleasant and unappealing. I tasked Kerry to fill that role and won you your reelection."

"Aww... I thought I won that because everyone thinks I'm cool."

Rove laughed evilly. "Never underestimate the power of Rove!"

"Well, I don't think this right!" Bush said. "I'm going to have to tell everyone that Kerry is your sleeper agent!"

"I don't think so." Rove walked towards Bush, and Bush found himself unable to move or even scream.

* * * *

Bush woke up in bed next to Laura. "Wow, what a weird dream I had."

"Being drugged and dragged to your bed by Karl Rove probably would give you weird dreams," Laura said.

"Yep, at least it was all just a dream."

On TV, Kerry was speaking again. "...and the right wing nut-jobs have once gains misconstrued my words, attacking me with the zeal of our murderous, baby-killing troops..."

Part 1
Part 2

* * * *

Condoleezza Rice and Dick Cheney sat around a table in the White House. "While President Bush is gone, what do you want to do?"

Cheney shrugged.

Condi thought for a moment. "Want to declare martial law?"

"Yeah... I guess that's a way to kill the weekend."

* * * *

"The desert is hot," President Bush complained as he and his group hiked across the dunes.

"Then maybe you should take off that winter jacket," Laura said.

"But then I'd have to carry it, and that would be just be annoying!"

"We love these red shirts you got us!" Bill the intern exclaimed.

"Yay! Hiking through the desert is fun!" Jill the intern said and did a cartwheel.

"You have your fun," Bush said to himself, "as it will only make your deaths all the more tragic."

Laura slapped him on the back of the head. "Stop waiting for the interns to die!"

Buck the Marine took off a boot and emptied sand from it. "You know, this would be a lot easier if you hadn't given our Humvee to those monkeys."

"Hey! They were honest looking!" Bush yelled. "I was sure they were going to bring it back! I bet it means were close, though, if they're using psych-ops to try and stop us. What do you think, Bolton?"

John Bolton stood still and let the wind blow through his powerful mustache. He then pointed to the south. "My 'stache senses evil in that direction."

Bush charged forward. "Onward to evil!"

Eventually, they came upon a cave in the side of a mountain. Inside, they soon found a dead terrorist on the ground. Bush knelt down and inspected the body. "He was shot in the head... and, from the bullet trajectory, he must have been shot by someone small - like a monkey!" He looked around some more and found banana peels. He took out a pen and picked one up with it. "The terrorist must have then appeased the monkeys with bananas and went on with the sale. It would seem they're all gone, but perhaps that's what they wanted us to think before..." He turned to face Bill and Jill. "...THEY SPRING THEIR TRAP!"

"What trap?" Bill asked.

"This is like C.S.I.! Let's check the body for gunshot residue! Yay!" Jill exclaimed.

Bush snapped his fingers. "I was so sure they were going to get it now. They really need to die soon so this situation seems more serious."

"If it helped, I could kill that monkey." Buck pointed to a fat little monkey that was asleep in the corner.

Bush ran over, grabbed the monkey, and started shaking him. "Tell me where the nuke is, you fat little monkey!"

The monkey screeched and furiously flailed its claws.

"Stop shaking that monkey, George!" Laura yelled.

"Fine." Bush set the monkey on a nearby table. The monkey then pointed at Bush.

"I think he wants your pen so he can write a message for us," Laura said.

Bush handed the monkey his pen. The monkey quickly grabbed it and bit it in two.

"That was my lucky pen!" Bush grabbed the monkey again. "I'm going to spank you, you bad monkey! I'm going to spank you good!"

Laura grabbed him. "George! We don't have time for you to spank the monkey! The terrorists probably have the nuclear bomb."

Bush let the monkey go. "I guess the monkeys will escape punishment this time, but one day I'll get them. Time now to focus on the terrorists."

"But I'm tired of killing Muslims," Buck said. "That's like all I kill lately. I want shoot other types of for'ners."

"I'm really getting tired of your whining!" Bush shouted.

Bolton stood at the caves exit. "My 'stache senses danger."

Gun shots sounded in the distance. Bush ran out of the cave. "Quick! We have to get close enough that Bill and Jill can get killed in the crossfire!"

* * * *

Tony Snow walked before the podium only to see an empty press room. "Where is everyone?"

"The press has all been rounded up into prison without a trial... except for those who were mysteriously strangled by some serial killer," Condi told him.

Tony sighed and walked off. "Whatever; I still get paid the same."

* * * *

Bush pulled out his binoculars. "That terrorist camp seems to be under attack." He looked around some more. "By the North Koreans! ...And they have a dong!" Bush tossed down his binoculars. "Aww... now the nuke is back in the hands of the North Koreans. I guess that's better than it being in the hands of the terrorists but worse than it being in the hands of monkeys. I have a bad feeling their going to use that dong, so we better stop them. How many guns do each of you have?"

"I only brought bag lunches," Laura said.

"I need nothing but my 'stache," Bolton said.

"We just brought our team spirit! Yay!" Bill and Jill said.

"I had a gun, but then you let that monkey borrow it and..."

"I'm really really tired of your whining, Buck!" Bush shouted. "Fine, no guns. We'll have to use strategery. Everyone spread out around the camp. We'll throw rocks and sand at the Koreans until they're like, 'Hey! Stop that! Here! Take the nuke!' Then we'll take the nuke, and our mission will be a success."

"That's a stupid plan," Laura said.

"Well, a stupid plan is better than no plan."

"Quite the opposite, actually."

"I don't care!" Bush yelled. "It's a fool proof plan, but, just in case, Bill and Jill should start throwing stuff first. Now everyone spread out!"

The rest of the group went away while Bush tried to find a good sized rock. Suddenly, he heard a growl and was lifted into the air. "Aieeee! Giant pandas!"

* * * *

Bush was dropped into the center of the camp by the pandas. Before him stood the evil Communist Chinese leader. "So, Mr. Bush, I see you've met my panda enforcers: Kill-Kill, Slay-Slay, and Murder-Murder."

"I don't like the sound of the name of that last one," Bush grumbled to himself. He then stood up the face the evil Communist Chinese leader. "You monster! I can't believe you had your evil pandas rip apart Bill and Jill! They were two young kids who had bright futures ahead of them!"

The evil Communist Chinese leader looked confused. "Rip apart who? You mean the interns? They're over there." He pointed to some chairs nearby where Bill and Jill were sitting along with Laura, Buck, and Bolton. Bill and Jill waved back at Bush enthusiastically.

"Dagnabbit!" Bush yelled. "If they don't die soon, people might start liking them... and then they'll be reoccurring characters... and then we'll never be able to kill them off!"

"I have one question for you," said the evil Communist Chinese leader. "Why are you wearing a winter coat in the desert?"

"And I have one for you! Why don't you shut up?"

The evil Communist Chinese leader sneered. "Defiant at always, I see. Well, I have a surprise for you, Mr. Bush."

Kim Jong Il stepped forward. He then bowed his head and uttered, "I'm sowwy. I never should have tested that nukey boom boom."

"You should be sorry!" Bush said. "Now apologize for your hair!"

"Never!"

"As you can see," the evil Communist Chinese leader said, "the situation is now under control. You and your friends can head home."

"Wow! Super!"

"I don't know, George," Laura said. "I think the Chinese are just trying to defuse the situation so they can keep North Korea as a wedge in that region."

Bolton twitched his mustache. "My 'stache does not detect good intentions."

"You guys need to calm down," Bush told them. "You always think the worst of China, but, of all the murderous dictatorships, they sure are the... uh... biggest. Anyway, now the nuke is in the hands of China - who already have plenty of nukes - so everything seems to have worked out. Sure, it didn't all go to plan - Bill and Jill are still alive - but I think this conclusion is good enough. Also, I want to get out of here and go someplace colder so I won't feel so hot in this coat."

"Why don't you just take it off?" Laura asked.

"We already went over that!"

"Not to whine, but I'm sure disappointed I didn't get to kill anybody or shout, 'Ooh-rah,'" Buck said. "Also, what's going to happen with this big... uh... dong?" He pointed to the giant missile standing up in the middle of the camp.

Bush scratched his head. "I guess we have to get rid of it."

"No! My dong!" Kim Jong Il screeched. "No one touch my dong but me!" He ran over and wrapped his arms around it. This accidentally set it off, and it flew into the air with Kim Jong Il stuck to it and screaming, "I lost control of my dong!"

Bush laughed. "That's funny because it sounds like he's talking about his penis." He thought for a moment. "Also, I guess a poofy-haired dictator being stuck to an out of control missile is funny in itself, too."

"Yay!" Bill and Jill exclaimed.

"WHY WON'T YOU DIE!"

THE END

Part 1

* * * *

"I clearly told the incoming Bush Administration about the monkey threat," Bill Clinton said to Chris Wallace.

"Really?"

"Yeah it was on a memo somewhere I gave them."

"What memo?"

"Uh... I don't remember the name, but I do remember doodling a monkey in the margin of some classified memo... I believe I also drew an X-Wing shooting at a Tie Fighter above it." Clinton wagged his finger at Wallace. "That was a warning, and President Bush should have heeded it!"

Wallace nodded. "Fair enough. Next question: You seem to be super-glued to who appears to be a common street hooker. What's the story behind that?"

Clinton's face turned red and he knocked over the table between them. "I won't stand for this right-wing hit job! Let's get out of here, Brandy!" He began to leave.

Brandy was pulled behind him. "Not like I have a choice!"

Condoleezza Rice turned off the TV. "We're going to continue to be hammered for this. It's time for decisive action against the monkeys!"

"Do you think they'll use the nuclear bomb they stole?" President Bush asked. "I mean, are they going to blow up the Statue of Liberty like in Planet of the Apes?"

"We're not dealing with Islamic terrorists, remember," Condi said. "Unlike them, monkeys can be expected to act in their own interest, so I doubt they'll actually use it against us. Instead, they'll probably use the bomb for political leverage or sell it to fund monkey evil or buy lots of bananas."

Bush pounded the war room's table. "We can't let them do that! That many bananas won't be a balanced diet!"

Condi rolled her eyes. "Also, they might sell the bomb to terrorists who will use it against us."

Bush thought about that. "Oh yeah; that's bad too." He turned to Rumsfeld. "What do you think we should do, Rummy?"

"I think we should make a decisive strike against Iran immediately!"

Bush was confused. "What does Iran have to do with this?"

Rumsfeld took a swig from his whiskey flask. "I dunno; I haven't been listening to what you were talking about. I just want to attack Iran!" He crushed the metal flask in his hand. "I want to kill that little midget president of theirs and all of their ayatollahs!"

"We'll have a war with Iran later," Bush said. "Let's focus on the monkey problem now."

"Bah!" Rumsfeld stood up. "I'm going to go strangle some people. If you want to know what I'm up to, watch the six o'clock news." He stormed out.

"Whatever; we can do this without you," Bush called out to Rumsfeld. Bush looked to Buck the Marine. "So, what do you think?"

"Well... uh... I'm just a sergeant in the Marines," Buck said. "I don't really make these higher-level decisions. I just came down here because there was free pizza and beer."

"And, since you ate some pizza, you now have to come up with a solution to the nuclear-armed monkey problem!" Bush told him.

Buck thought for a moment. "Can't we just shoot them? I mean, they're hairy and they make lots of gibberish sounds, so they're just like for'ners. As you may know, my job and my favorite past time is kill'n for'ners."

"Brilliant!" Bush exclaimed. "We'll kill the monkeys by shooting them! That's a plan we can work with. I want the American people to know that, if monkeys obtain nuclear weapons, they will be hunted down and killed like common for'ners." Bush turned to Clancy. "You're our intelligence guy. Where are the monkeys now?"

Clancy turned on a PowerPoint presentation and stood up. "Monkeys are twice as hard to find as terrorists. While terrorists hide in caves, monkey can hide both in caves and up in trees." A slide appeared of a suspicious looking monkey in a tree.

"Oh no!" Bush yelled. "Monkeys could be in any tree right now with a nuclear weapon! We're doomed!"

"Luckily, though," Clancy continued, "through a source know as Google, we've found out there are lots of monkeys here." On screen appeared a map of the Middle East and he pointed to an area on it.

Bush stood up. "There are lots of bad people there! We can't let the monkeys sell the nuke to them! We have to go there and stop them!" He looked at the map some more. "Wait, what country is that?"

"That's classified."

Condi sighed. "Countries aren't classified."

"Fine," Clancy said. "I just forgot what one it is. Now, excuse me, there's some secret work I need to get to." He walked off.

"That bathroom is the other way," Condi called to him.

"We have to get a task force together and handle this," Bush declared. "We can't let the monkeys roam free or gain power, or things will end up like the Planet of the Apes, and no one wants that, right?"

"The original or the remake?" Buck asked. "In the remake, humans could talk, but they also didn't have guns. I'd rather not talk and have guns."

"Me too!" Bush exclaimed.

"While you�re off on another adventure, just remember there is going to be political fallout from this," Condi said.

Bush scoffed. "Snowman will have that covered."

* * * *

"Now that monkeys have the nuclear bomb, hasn't President Bush proved himself to be even more incompetent than Carter?"

"Let's not resort to hyperbole," White House Press Secretary Tony Snow answered. "Keep things in perspective. Monkeys are mischievous creatures, and they tend to steal small items. This time, they happened to grab a nuclear weapon. Still, they're only monkeys, and they don't have the capability to operate it."

"Are we supposed to believe that a nuclear weapon simple enough for Kim Jong Il to use can't be operated by monkeys?" a reporter asked.

Tony paused for a moment. "Wow, when did you guys learn to ask good questions? Anyway, whatever is the capability of the monkeys, they are being hunted down as we speak."

"Aren't you worried that all the anti-monkey sentiments right now will cause a backlash against monkeys?"

"Okay, now that's the type of question I'm more used to. So, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Just the other day," the reporter said, "Senator Allen was jumped on by a monkey. He then threw it off and yelled, 'Get your paws off me, you damn, dirty macaca!' Aren't you worried about more such anti-monkey slurs?"

"The Bush Administration is working hard to make sure that peaceful monkeys are respected and..." Tony paused for a moment. "Know what? I'm just going to come out and say we don't care what people call monkeys."

"And you don't care that monkeys are currently being indiscriminately rounded up and imprisoned?" shouted a hysterical reporter.

Tony took a deep breath. "Those are called zoos, and they been around long before this kerfuffle."

"But, now that monkeys have nuclear weapons, shouldn't we change the status quo?"

"You guys are starting to get retarded," Tony said. "You keep it up, and I'm going to give you all a timeout again."

"Melinda Hawkish, FOX News." She pushed forward in front of the other reporters. "We�ve passed each other a few times in the hallway back when you worked at FOX News yourself."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I remember you, Melinda. What's your question?"

"Doesn't this whole incident further illustrate the Bush Administration's impotence on the national stage? Why haven't they immediately responded to the monkeys' provocation by attacking one of their strongholds, such as bombing the rainforest?"

"That's just not the way we're handling it."

"The American people demand bombings and cool video footage of it!" Melinda shouted.

"Calm down! What the American people should know is that we have a very competent team working on this right now."

* * * *

"Well, we have our team together." Bush stood in the sands of Arabia and looked to the horizon. "There's me, the brilliant leader and strategerist. There's Buck the Marine who loves killing for'ners."

"I just shoot them," Buck said. "Whether they die or not is up to them."

"And then there's U.N. Ambassador Bolton whose mustache is rumored to be able to survive a nuclear blast."

"My 'stache bristles with fury," Bolton declared.

"And my wife, who I'm bringing along since she says we don't do enough together."

She held up some paper bags. "I packed everyone lunches."

"And, last and least, two people I've never seen before who can die to give this situation some needed gravitas."

"We are psyched to be helping you out, Mr. President!" said Bill the intern.

"Super-psyched!" Jill the intern added.

"It's just great to be a part of something like this!" Bill continued. "I always hoped for experience like this because I want to have big career in politics."

"I'm so excited for the future!" Jill said. "Yay!"

Bush nodded. "Good. Statements like that will only make it seem all the more tragic when you die."

Laura swatted Bush across the back of his head. "Stop taunting the interns about how they're going to die."

"Fine. Let's get going!" Bush marched into the desert.

"Shouldn't we have a vehicle or something?" Buck asked. "Or, at least, a camel?"

Bush looked at Buck with disgust. "You really are a whiner, Buck. I hope you have a better attitude when you start your eighth tour in Iraq after this."

* * * *

Elsewhere in Arabia, Kim Jong Il tried to fix his mangled poofy hair. "We track monkeys here! We teach them for what they did to my hair and my dong! It no longer stand up!"

"We'll get the nuclear bomb back," the aide said, "but do we really need to carry the missile with us the whole way?" He pointed to the North Korean troops carrying a missile who were lagging behind them.

"Yes! It great dong! Take ten people to carry! As soon as we get nukey boom boom back, we unleash the dong! We make big explosion! Then American and everyone else will fear me and my dong! Dong! Dong! Dong! Dong! Dong! ..."

TO BE CONCLUDED...

Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice ran into the Oval Office. "North Korea has gone nuclear!"

President Bush shrugged his shoulders. "So?"

Condi walked over to a map of the world on the wall. She pointed to one spot. "Here's North Korea." She then pointed to America. "Here's us."

Bush leaped out of his chair. "We're on the same map! We have to do something!"

Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld barged into the office. "I hear North Korea did a nuclear test! We must immediately attack Iran!"

"Aww! Not another Middle Eastern war!" Bush said. "We have enough of those."

"It would ensure your place in the history books as the President with the most wars ever," Condi said.

Bush sat back down. "I don't want to be in the history books. I just took this job so my father wouldn't think I'm a loser."

The phone rang. Bush answered, and, on the other end, George H. W. Bush shouted, "You're a loser!" and hung up.

Bush set the phone down. "Aww... it didn't work." He looked to Condi. "So, what are the North Koreans going to do with their nukes?"

"Well, they released this statement." Condi held up a piece of paper and read:

"Test of nuclear explosive super lucky good. North Korea now great super power number one because of fabulous Kim Jong Il. He got eleven holes in one first time he played golf. He super great and not goofy looking at all. Kim Jong Il very sexy and make all women horny. North Korea nuclear power with Kim Jong Il very fearsome and more powerful than fourteen dragons."

Bush thought about that. "Well, that could mean anything!"

Rumsfeld pounded Bush's desk. "We need to kill that poofy-haired freak!"

"That's your solution to everything. Last night when we were playing Scrabble and couldn't find the die, you said we should murder Kim Jong Il."

"There's no die in Scrabble," Condi said.

"Let's not have this argument again!" Bush yelled, pointing at her ferociously.

Condi rolled her eyes. "Anyway, from the size of the blast, we're not even sure North Korea was successful in setting off a nuclear explosive."

"Well, what does intelligence think?" Bush looked to a man wearing a black suit and sunglasses who was standing in the background. "Clancy, you're my intelligence guy. Did North Korea make a real nuclear blast?"

"That's classified."

"Classified classified... or it will be in tomorrow's New York Times classified?"

Clancy adjusted his black tie. "I can't answer that."

"What if I ask nicely?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny whether that technique will cause me to give you the information."

Bush rubbed his chin. "By asking nicely, I could get the information," he thought out loud, "or I could just be wasting my time. Well, I can't take that risk." He looked to Condi. "I'm off to the U.N. to see if we can do sanctions against North Korea to teach them they are a bad bad country."

"The U.N.?!" Condi exclaimed. "They suck!"

"Rarr! I want to bomb the U.N.!" Rumsfeld yelled. "I want to kill them and all of their sympathizers!"

Bush stood up. "No! We go to the U.N., wait for them to completely bungle this, and then we start bombing. That's how civilized people do things!" He then threw his stapler through the window to signal the conversation was over.

* * * *

"Where big nukey boom boom?" Kim Jong Il demanded. "There was supposed to be big nukey boom boom!"

"I'm afraid the test was a failure," Jong's aide said.

"What! But I need big nukey boom boom for new Taepo Dong missile! I need it for big powerful dong! Dong! Dong! Dong!"

"Please stop saying 'dong'. We'll get working on a new test."

"Make big nukey boom boom! Big nukey boom boom for my dong! They shall know I am powerful!" Jong looked around and shouted, "Where's my hairdresser? I need my hair bigger and poofier! Need hair so big that I tower over all others! They shall all fear Kim Jong Il! They shall shake in fear before my giant poofy hair! Then I'll show them my dong, and they will flee in terror! Hee hee hee!"

* * * *

"It�s the 'stache!" Bush said as he entered into the U.N. chamber and sat next to Ambassador John Bolton. "I've heard a lot of U.N. members complain you're not respecting this place."

His powerful mustache bristled. "It deserves no respect."

"Okay, but can you at least refrain from urinating in the auditorium... especially on other U.N. members?"

"No."

Bush shrugged. "Well, I tried."

Bolton looked around. "Where's my pen?"

At the podium, President Vincente Fox began speaking. "The U.S. plans to make a fence along our border, and we think this is very bad. First of all, they have no right. Second of all, if the fence keeps out my citizens, who will pick their beans? Thirdly..."

Bolton glared at Fox and noticed a blue pen in his pocket. Bolton stood up and pointed at Fox. "That thieving Mexican stole my pen!" Bolton then charged the podium, knocking over tables and chairs and world leaders in the process. He then leaped at Fox.

"Aye carumba!"

As Bolton pinned Fox to the ground and proceeded to pummel him, Bush took the podium. "Since the floor is open, I just thought I'd say that North Korea having nuclear weapons is very bad. Kim Jong Il is a short little pot-bellied, poofy-haired dingus, and that's exactly the sort of person who shouldn't have the ability to blow lots of stuff up. I hope you'll all help me in enacting sanctions against them. If you do, I'll order pizza for everybody... maybe even breadstick too. We got a deal?"

"No!" shouted the Chinese ambassador.

"Why?"

"Because, we're... well... Communists and evil."

"Oh, okay." Bush said. "But everyone else is for it, right? And when I mean everyone, I mean the countries that aren't small and dinky and stupid."

"We're against sanctions too," the Russian ambassador said.

"What? I thought you guys weren't evil anymore."

"No. We tried not being evil, but it didn't work out for us. So we're evil still, and we're against sanctions."

"This is useless," Bush said. "We need to--"

"You've spoken long enough," Kofi Annan said. "Many other people here would like the floor to express their hatred of Jews, so why don't--"

Bolton smashed a chair into the back of Kofi's head. He then unzipped his fly. "I need to pee."

Bush fled for the exit. "I'm outta here."

* * * *

Kim Jong Il walked into the nuclear test room with his extra poofy hair adding nearly two feet to his height. "Now I tall! Everyone fear me! With big nukey boom boom, everyone will fear my dong as well! Dong! Dong! Dong!"

"Stop saying 'dong', and we'll start the new test," the aide said.

Jong rubbed his grubby little hands together. "Yes! Now we will have big nukey boom boom!"

Suddenly, there was lots of clawing and screeching all around them.

"What is that?" Jong demanded. Then his face went white with terror. "Someone protect my dong!"

* * * *

"We need a plan of action!" Bush exclaimed.

"We're going to send in all our available Marines and take out that freak Kim Jong Il," Rumsfeld said. "Buck the Marine, you ready?"

Buck looked around. "Uh... where are the other Marines?"

"You're the only one available." Rumsfeld said. "So get ready to go into North Korea, kill Kim Jong Il, and set off all the nuclear bombs."

"You might want to run away before they go off," Bush suggested. "Oh, and one more thing, on your way out, head through South Korea and then get some surveillance of their animators. I want to get a special preview of the upcoming Simpsons movie!"

"Uh... while I appreciate that you have such confidence in me to keep sending me on these solo missions," Buck said, "my training really is more squad based... you know, where there a group of us looking out for each other's back."

"That sounds like whining!" Bush yelled. "And how many wars did whining ever win?"

"There was this French one--"

"No wars! I was in the Vietnam War, and, because of all the whining, we lost that one!"

"I thought you were in the States for that?"

Bush pounded his desk. "And no part of the U.S. fell to the Vietnamese! Now, you go invade North Korea and don't whine about it!"

Condi ran into the room. "Something weird has happened! The North Koreans were going to do another test, but something stopped them. And then we got this tape!"

"You can't fool me!" Bush said, pointing at what was in Condi's hand. "That's a DVD!"

"Whatever." Condi put in the DVD player.

"Will it have 5.1 surround sound?" Bush asked.

"I don't know!" Condi hit play.

On screen was a monkey jumping around and screeching. "Yay! This movie has a monkey!" Bush laughed and clapped his hands. "Movie funny!" He then noticed something. "What's that behind the monkey?"

"It's a North Korean nuclear weapon!" Condi exclaimed.

"Oh no!" Bush yelled as he stared at the now very threatening monkey who was screeching and pointing at the screen. "The monkeys have the bomb!" He put his head in his hands. "I'm the worst President ever."

Condi patted him on the back. "Pretty much."

Read More...

Bush looked at the proposal for the new 700 mile wall to be built on the Mexican border. "We're going to have to drive by a lot of Home Depots to find enough day laborers to build this thing."

Cheney then came into the Oval Office and turned the TV on. "You have to see the new DNC ad."

A black and white picture of Mark Foley appeared on screen. "The Republicans is the party of pedophilia," an announcer said.

Gerry Studds appeared on screen. "Back in 1983, I was caught having sex with a 17 year-old male page, and the Democrats censured me. That taught me my lesson for the numerous terms in the House I served afterwards. One thing I never did, though, was e-mail or chat online with that page; that's just sick. All the Republican leadership should resign over that."

Mel Reynolds appeared on screen. "As a Congressman, I was involved with a 16-year-old campaign volunteer. In, 1995 I was convicted on 12 counts of sexual assault, obstruction of justice and solicitation of child pornography. I then was convicted for bank fraud, furthering my spiral of decline. Luckily, Bill Clinton pardoned me, helping me with the healing process. Why hasn't George W. Bush pardoned Mark Foley? Is it because President Bush approves of the behavior?"

The announcer came back on. "The Democratic Party: Against buggering youths for almost a week now."

Cheney turned the TV off. "The Democrats are really trying to make an issue of this. Frankly, it's the only issue they've been able to come up with this year."

Just then, Representative Barney Frank barged into the office with a young attractive woman at each side. Behind him came a Muslim imam. "It has come to our attention that there are hidden gays in the Republican party, and, as we know, they are preying on children. Thus, the Democratic party has taken it upon itself to ferret out any gays in office for the public's safety."

"Huh? Wasn't a gay prostitution ring once run out of your apartment?" Bush asked.

"What! That's ridiculous!" Barney Frank exclaimed. "I'm as straight as they come." He looked to his two floozies. "Isn't that right Starla and Bambi."

"Barney Frank is more man than we can handle," Starla said.

"He's so much man it's scary," Bambi said.

"He's so manly that he sleeps with other men and..."

"That's enough," Barney Frank interrupted. "Anyway, we're going to locate all the gay menace in the Republican Party, and, in a show of religious diversity, we're going to handle them in the traditional Islamic way."

"We'll collapse a wall on them," the imam said.

"It's in the Koran," Barney Frank added, "or, at least, I think it is. Religious books tend to be kinda long, you know?"

Bush noticed a boy standing near the imam. "Is that your assistant?" Bush asked the imam.

"He's just someone I keep with me!" the imam answered quickly.

Barney Frank then pointed at Bush in an accusatory way. "Isn't it true you had a drinking problem!"

"Well... yeah. So I quite drinking."

"Was it because the drinking caused you to lust after young boys like it did Mark Foley?" Barney Frank exclaimed.

"No! That's crazy!"

The imam then ran up towards Bush. "Admit your homosexual desires! Isn't it true that you're so disgusted by the sight of women that you want to dress them all up like frumpy ninjas?"

"Only Nancy Pelosi!" Bush then thought for a moment. "Wait, what are you talking about?"

"Can you idiots get out of here?" Cheney snarled.

Barney Frank walked over to Cheney. "This questioning would make you uncomfortable, wouldn't it? As both John Edwards and John Kerry tactfully pointed out in the 2004 debates, your daughter is a lesbian. As we all know, gayness is genetic. Thus, you're gay!"

The imam ran up to Cheney. "You have the characteristic snarl of a gay pedophile! Admit you�re gay and accept your punishment!"

The imam was then blasted in the face with a shotgun, surprising no one.

"You peppered my imam with a salt shell!" Barney Frank yelled. "That's wrong on so many levels!"

Cheney chambered another round. "Yet it felt so right. Now get your trash out of here!"

"Yeah! Get out of here, you gay-bashing homos!" Bush said. "You and the Democratic Party may hate gays, Barney Frank, but we love them."

After Barney Frank dragged the imam out of the room, Bush turned to Cheney. "We do love gays, right?"

Cheney shook his head.

"Aww! Everything is so confusing now!"

* * * *

"The Democrats continue their search to ferret out the gay menace within the Republican Party," the news anchor said. "Gay Republicans are a danger to children, they say, and must all be located and locked up. They are also focusing on bloggers and blog readers, who, as commonly known, are all gay and like to molest children... except for Frank J. of IMAO.us who exudes so much masculinity with each letter he types that other men find him threatening.

"As part of our own reporting, we sent a reporter and camera crew to Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld's house to question him on whether he is gay." The anchorman bowed his head solemnly. "There were no survivors."

Bush turned from the TV to Condoleezza Rice. "We can't let the Democrats control this issue. I want you to stop work on the blood test for detecting cylons and instead make a blood test for detecting the gays infiltrating our society. We need to stop them and their sympathizers!"

"Okay, I guess," Condi said. "I was just humoring you with the cylon test anyway."

"And we'll need humor when the gays finally attack, coming at us in their gay planes and gay tanks and shooting at us with their gay bullets."

Condi frowned. "I think you might be getting a little carried away."

Bush hung his head. "You're right. I even collapsed a wall on Senator Frist today. After what he said sounded like he was suggesting we negotiate with the Taliban, I was sure he was infected with gay madness." Bush spotted Tony Snow. "Hey, Snowman, I have a statement I want you to deliver to the press."

"Sure. What is it?"

"I want it to be known that this homophobia is so gay. Anyone obsessed with it is a homo, and there's nothing the Republicans hate more than homos!"

Tony thought about that. "I might phrase that differently."

"I think people judge Islam too harshly," Bush said aloud as he wrote his speech. "The reason for violent reactions to even the slightest criticism of Islam is obviously just a way to cover up their homosexual tendencies. Once we realize that, we can come to a peaceful understanding of each other."

Bush held up his speech. "This should end violence in the Middle East!"

Bush's intercom buzzed. "Senator George Allen here to see you."

"Send him in."

Into the Oval Office walked a man wearing white sheets and a white hood. Bush was taken aback. "Why are you dressed as Senator Byrd?"

"I've decided to come out as who I really am," Allen announced, "A black-hating, Jew. I hoping you'll support me on this."

Bush considered that. "How about I support you in spirit but not in word or action."

Allen pointed an accusing finger at Bush. "I always knew you had some macaca in you!" He then stormed out.

"My great grandmother was a macaca and I don't care who knows!" Bush shouted. He then took a sip of his coffee. "That guy just is not presidential material." When he set the mug down, sirens went off.

"NUCLEAR MISSILES ARE BEING LAUNCHED AT PAPAU NEW GUINEA IN T MINUS 20 SECONDS!"

Bush quickly picked up the phone. "Abort! Abort!" The sirens then stopped. "One of these days I'm going to learn to stop using the The Button as a coaster."

The wall then burst open. "Rarr!" Donald Rumsfeld roared as he charged towards Bush.

"I got a door, Rummy!"

Rumsfeld grabbed Bush by the collar, knocking over the desk. "People are leaking classified information! I want whoever is responsible found! I then want him cut into four pieces which will then be placed at the four corners of the world as a warning to all others!"

"Hey! I don't like it either! We have an election coming up, and people are leaking information to try and make me look bad. If things keep going this way, after I leave office I could end up like Bill Clinton, red-faced and wagging my finger at some interviewer." Bush then thought for a moment. "Well, I guess it could be worse; I could end up like Carter. That guy is more odd spectacle than man."

Rumsfeld dropped Bush to the ground. "They say my wars have created more terrorists. If that's true, then how do I have all of these?" Rumsfeld dropped a number of terrorist skulls on the floor. "I get more every day, and I mail them to school teachers to use as teaching aids so they can hold them up to students and say, 'Look; this is what happens if you become a terrorist. The Secretary of War will boil your head until nothing is left but a clean skull which he will then mail to a teacher to be used as a teaching aid."

Bush stood up. "Don't worry, Rummy; we'll set things straight. They'll know we kill terrorists good, and I'll stop all the leaks."

"You better! I'm still working on my war plans with Iran, and I don't want it leaked that, as soon as we conquer Iran and take their oil, our troops are marching straight into Venezuela to take its oil."

"But I didn't think Venezuela was next to Iran."

"They're close enough!" Rumsfeld then marched away, smashing another hole through a wall as an exit.

"To catch the leakers, I need a brilliant plan!" Bush said to himself. He then laughed evilly. "I got it!"

* * * *

Bush changed the channel on the TV. "We're going to watch the news."

"But I was extremely ready for some football!" Vice President Cheney grumbled.

"I know, but I just implemented a brilliant plan." Bush smiled manically as he sat on the couch to watch the TV. "I distributed twelve different classified documents that would be extremely politically damaging to me to twelve different parts of the CIA. I'll just wait and see which one leaks and then I'll know where the leaks are coming from."

"This just in," the news anchor said, "The New York Times has been leaked twelve different classified reports that reflect very poorly on President Bush's performance in fighting terrorism. According to the reports, President Bush gave WMDs to Al Qaeda in exchange for a bag of candy, ordered the bombing of several villages in Denmark when he mistakenly thought that country was in the Middle East, and he only decided to invade Iraq because he thought he left his car keys there. Who knows what kind of backlash this will have for the Bush administration, but, I think I speak for the American people when I say I hope it's extreme."

"Great plan, idiot," Cheney said.

"I can't believe they leaked all of that!" Bush yelled. "That ungrateful CIA! All this after I made sure they could belly slap terrorists all they want! That's it; anytime we find out cool classified information, I'm not letting the CIA find out. Who needs them?" Bush slumped down in the couch. "I get most of my information from the Drudge Report nowadays, anyway."

A horrible roar echoed through the hallways.

"It's the Bolton!" shouted a UN peacekeeper. "Open fire!"

They all fired, but Bolton wasn't even slowed.

"His mustache! The bullets are bouncing right off it!"

"Then fire around it!"

"We can't! It's too big!"

Bolton came ever closer, his 'stache quivering with fury.

* * * *

"The UN guys give you much trouble here?" President Bush asked John Bolton.

"No. They are nothing to me."

"Cool." Bush looked around the luncheon to the other foreign dignitaries. "I thought we were supposed to come in our tribal clothes. That's why I have my cowboy hat and my gun belt." Bush patted his six-shooter.

"They allowed you to bring that in here?"

"No one complained who wasn't shot." Bush smiled. "I'm gonna pistol whip that Ama-dibba-dabba-dooble midget from Iran. I don't like him." Bush looked around again. "Hey. There's Hugo Chavez! I want to hurt him too!" Bush ran over to Chavez.

"El diablo!"

"I don't know what that means," Bush said, "but I have a message for you." Bush hit Hugo with his pistol, knocking him to the ground. He then started stomping him. "That's right! I stomp Communists!"

"Diablo hurt Hugo!" Hugo cried.

"Then why don't you see if you can get a hug from one of your terrorist friends." Bush then spat on Hugo. "Nutjob." He walked back over to Bolton. "This luncheon is fun! I should come to U.N. Security Council meeting more often. I wonder who I should hurt next?"

"You stupid American!" Jacques Chirac shouted at Bush. "Why must you oppress the dictators of the world? France will use all its power to stop you!"

Bush just stared at Chirac. After a few moments, Chirac tossed his wallet to Bush and dropped to the ground and curled up into a ball. "That's right." Bush looked through the wallet and then tossed it back to Chirac. "That's all stupid French money. Get it exchanged for real money then give it back to me."

"Yes sir," Chirac squeaked and then scampered off.

Bush kept looking around. "So where's the itty-bitty Iranian?"

"There." Bolton pointed to the entrance to the luncheon where Ahmadinejad stood, peering inside cautiously.

Bush strolled over and smiled mischievously. "Come on in, stubby. I want to 'greet' you."

Ahmadinejad looked at Bush and shivered. "Uh... I would but..." He pointed at a bottle on a table. "There's wine! Yeah, that's the ticket, I can't come in because there is wine. Wine has alcohol and that�s against what Allah says in... uh... that book I read."

Bush looked at the bottle. "That's sparkling grape juice."

"Well... uh... that's something made to resemble an alcoholic beverage, which is also an insult to Allah... or something... I think. I'll have to consult an imam on this." Ahmadinejad ran off.

Bush went out into the hallway and shouted at him, "Yeah! Go run off to your imommy!"

"So, you have your speech ready?" Bolton asked Bush.

"Yeah. I think it will go over well. I'm not the best public speaker, but I could be worse."

* * * *

"The next question goes to Senator George Allen."

Peggy Fox looked through her notes. "My question is..." She stood up and pointed an accusing finger at Allen. "Joooooooooooo!"

"I'm not a Jew! I'm not a Jew!" Allen exclaimed. He pointed back at Fox. "You're a macaca!" He then moved his finger to point at everyone in the audience. "You're all macacas!"

* * * *

"The next speaker is President Bush of..." Kofi Annan checked the paper he held. "...the United States."

The auditorium erupted in boos. Bush fired his gun in the air. "Shut up! I'm speaking now!" Bush pulled out some index cards and began reading out loud. "Now, you know we all hate the U.N. here in America. It's stupid and annoying. Plus, it's full of foreigners who all smell. A number of times I've suggested turning this building here into a big shooting range. If that happens, we won't give you any warning though; just one day a bunch of people will enter here firing guns. Also, I hate your leader, Coffee Anna. I don't want to be accused of using racial slurs, but he's a dumb cracker and I curse his mustache.

"But I digress. The reason I'm here is because of Iran and how its dwarven leader wants nukes. I was going to beat him up, but he actually runs pretty fast on those stubby little legs. I shouldn't just focus on him, though, since he's just a puppet of those mad mullahs. And it's appropriate that he's a puppet because he's small... like a puppet. Anyway, if Iran keeps trying to get nukes, I will nuke them. But, I don't want to hurt the citizens of Iran who want democracy, so I'll use those nukes that only kill one person at a time on Ama-jibber-jabber and those mullahs."

Bush looked to Bolton. "What do we call those nukes that only kill one person at a time?"

"Bullets."

Bush addressed the auditorium. "Yes, I will kill the Iranian president and the mullahs with bullets." He started reading from the index cards again. "I would like your support in this. I don't actually need it, though, because I'm the President of the most powerful nation ever. Actually, I'm not even going to stay and listen to your speeches to see if you support me, because those speeches will be in crazy languages I don't understand and they will be made by people who don't even live in America. Now, I don't listen to what most Americans say, so why would I listen to people who don't live in America? That wouldn't make any sense at all.

"Still, you people can help me. Many of your countries are stupid, but you can still follow simple instructions." A wallet was tossed to Bush, and he caught it and checked the inside. He then pocketed it. "See, even a Frenchman can follow simple instruction when given forcefully. I know some of you will never help me, like Hugo Chavez, so I'll probably beat you up while you�re here since I don't have time to fly to each of your countries and then beat you up."

Hugo held up a Noam Chomsky book to protect his face. "Save me from Diablo!"

"That's the only reason I like having the U.N.," Bush continued. "It brings all the dictators to me so I can beat them up instead of going to their countries... which usually smell. One day, I would like to break Castro's hip... preferably before he dies."

Bush took out his last index card. "In closing, after this November, I can pretty much do whatever I want since I no longer have to worry about public opinion. What I will want to do will probably cause many of you to cry and me to laugh. It will be fun. Thank you, and God bless."

Suddenly, a bunch of people ran into the auditorium firing guns. Bush was surprised for a second, but then he slapped his forehead and said, "Oh yeah, that started today." Bush took his gun out and fired it into the crowd. "Yee haw!"

"I don't care anything about terrorism!" Bill Clinton declared loudly to Sandy Berger and Madeleine Albright. "I just care about getting BJs from interns!"

"Wow," President Bush remarked, "this ABC movie really does make Clinton look bad."

"You're not watching ABC, dear," Laura Bush told him. "You're looking out the window. Clinton and his friends were coming over today, remember?"

"Oh yeah. I forgot why I was scotch-guarding everything."

"And I'm going to go hide the valuables. Call me if you need anything." Laura headed out the door.

Clinton, Berger, and Albright entered the Oval Office. "Hey! Dubya! Good to see you, man!" Clinton exclaimed.

Bush quickly backed away to avoid a hug. "What do you want, Slick?"

"Just the usual, ya know." He bit his lip. "I'm looking for my legacy."

"Well, I ain't seen it. I did see some odd garbage by the dumpster out back; that might be it."

Clinton laughed. "Dubya is a funny guy, ain't he?"

Albright looked unamused. Berger looked around the room in a way that made Bush quite wary.

Clinton walked through the office. "Man, I miss this place." He suddenly stopped in one spot and smiled as he looked to Bush. "Know what I used to do right here?"

Bush was horrified. "No! And I don't want to know! If you try and tell me, I'll punch you in your big stupid mouth!"

"Fair enough."

Bush looked suspiciously at the three of them. "So what are you guys up to?"

"Just thinking of the history books," Clinton said. "You see, that recent slanderous miniseries on ABC got us really thinking again about how history will look back on my administration. The problem is, my presidency was between the end of the Cold War and before 9/11. It was eight, uneventful years of economic prosperity."

"Yeah, that must have been rough for you. Now, can you get to your point, because I was going to give a speech today on--" Bush noticed his written speech was missing from his desk. "Where did my speech go?" He pointed an accusing finger at Berger. "Did you shove it down your pants?"

"No... I... Okay, I did." Berger pulled the speech out of his pants and handed it to Bush.

"Aww! Now it's going to smell of Berger pants!" Bush quickly put it back on his desk. "Why do you always have to shove stuff down your pants?"

"I have the opposite problem," Clinton chuckled. "I can't keep things in my pants."

"We all know your problem, Slick."

"Anyway, Dubya what we�re worried about is that our administration will get unfairly ignored," Clinton said. "I'm just afraid that people aren't going to remember a good economy years from now and something must be done to make sure people remember me far into the future."

"So, let me guess, you're going to star in some pornos?"

Clinton shrugged. "I have some offers, but that's not what I'm talking about. I need to make it more apparent to the public that my administration anticipated the terrorist threat."

"That would be nice for you," Bush said, "except you didn't. Instead, that was just another mess left for me."

"There was no terrorism until you came along!" Albright screeched. "You! You! You! It's all because of you!"

"Actually, weren't there a number of attacks during--"

Albright started hitting Bush with an umbrella. "You! You! No terrorism until you!"

Bush swatted her away. "Get away from me, you old bat!" His phone started ringing. "It's the Attorney General; as much as I like reminiscing about when Democrats were just scumbags instead of completely nuts, I have to take this." Bush picked up the phone. "What is it, Speedy?"

"I want to get information out of our terrorists suspects, but I'm all confused on what I'm allowed to do without it being considered torture. I'm being told I can't yell at them, I can't play loud music, I can't shine lights in their eyes, and I can't connect their gonads to car batteries because that's all 'torture.'"

"Just do what your heart tells you is right."

"Well, in my heart, I hate all humanity and love to hear people scream in pain."

"Whatever; just figure it out because I have Bill Clinton bothering me."

"Man, I'd love to hook his gonads up to a car battery."

"No, he'd probably like that." Bush hung up and looked to Clinton. "I'm not going to help you with your stupid legacy, Slick. I have problems enough making it seems like I'm not the worst President in history." Bush thought for a moment. "Well, worst two-term President in history. I'm finally getting my polls numbers nearing 50%, and it won't help things to be seen near you."

"Fine," Clinton said. "I just thought you and me could be friends and help each other out. So, how's the wife?"

"She not a conniving shrew who I have a sham of a marriage with, if that's what you're asking."

Clinton laughed. "You're good with those zingers. So, seriously, like what's she wearing?"

Bush knocked Clinton to the ground with a right-hook.

Clinton picked himself off the floor. "Entirely justified. If you knew exactly the sort of things I was thinking of doing to your wife--"

Bush punched Clinton again, sending him back to the floor.

Clinton chuckled and wiped the blood from his mouth as he stood back up. "I really need to learn when to shut up. At least I didn't ask you about your daughters."

The next punch knocked Clinton into a wall before he fell to the ground. Suddenly, a hulking mass appeared at the doorway. "Reno hungry!" it declared.

"Okay, Janet." Clinton stood up once more. "We'll go get lunch now." Clinton looked to Bush. "Just think about helping my legacy, and maybe I can help yours."

"And you think about getting some serious therapy," Bush answered.

Clinton chuckled as he and the rest walked out the door. "That Dubya; he's a funny guy."

Laura then came to the office and looked at the floor. "A blood stain! Well, I guess I was worrying about even worse stains to clean up when I heard he was visiting."

"Yeah, Slick sure has an effect on people when he drops by. If anyone needs me in the next three hours, tell them I'm showering."

"Where am I?" Joe Wilson cried.

"An undisclosed location," Dick Cheney sneered.

"A place you'll never escape from," President Bush said.

A evil laugh emanated from the shadows, and Wilson could only assume it came from Karl Rove. Wilson then looked around the room. "This kinda looks like the Denny's near my house."

"Maybe it is." Bush accepted a coffee from the waitress. "So, Joe, we're really tired about hearing about you and your wife, so it's time to put an end to this."

"What did you do with my wife?"

Bush smiled. "We simply strapped her to a table with a laser beam slowly moving towards her to cut her in half."

"But don't worry," Cheney added, "She's a..." Cheney did air quotes. "'Secret Agent'. I'm sure it will be no trouble for her."

"Leave my wife alone!" Wilson cried. "She's my meal ticket!"

"Speaking of meals..." Bush put on some protective gloves and set a lead box on the table. "Why don't you have some... YELLOW CAKE!" Bush opened the box, took out some uranium, and shoved it in Wilson's mouth.

"Noooo... mmmrph..."

* * * *

"Is it really my job to hold people up while you pummel them?" Tony Snow asked.

"Yes, Snowman." Bush landed a couple more punches into Senator Harry Reid's gut. "You should have read your job contract more closely." Bush punched Reid again, but then stopped. "Aww, now I've forgotten why I'm punching him. You see, that's why I always liked Tom Daschle better: I never forgot why I was punching him. Okay, Tony, let him go."

Reid stumbled out of the Oval Office.

"And don't do whatever you did again!" Bush yelled at him. He turned to Tony. "So what's next?"

"I believe you're meeting with Mayor Ray Nagin."

"This place is nice!" Nagin said as he entered the Oval Office. "But it could use more chocolate!"

"Grab him!" Bush shouted and picked up a tire iron. Tony held Nagin's hands behind his back while Bush readied his tire iron. "I'm gonna bash you in the head, Nagin, until you start talking sense!"

"This is totally un-chocolaty!" Nagin yelped. He then wiggled out of his suit jacket and ran off.

"Tony!" Bush yelled. "You need to keep a better hold! Nagin is weasely!"

"Sorry, Mr. President. Anyway, I have a press conference soon, and it's just been reported that Joe Wilson has mutated into a half-man, half-badger. Do we have an official statement on that?"

"I don't know anything about that!" Bush screamed at Tony. "Stop accusing me of everything!"

"Uh... okay. Are you all right, Mr. President?"

"I'm just a bit stressed, that's all. We could lose Congress in the upcoming election, so I need to get things done now. There's still a lot of work to be done to move most of the government under the authority of Halliburton." Bush thought for a moment. "Hey, Tony, could you go drive to the Home Depot and see if there are any Mexicans who want to do some government work for cheap?"

"As I said, I have a press conference."

"Fine! Don't help! Do your stupid press conference and talk to the dumb press people! I have to catch a flight on Air Force One for speeches and fund raisers and stuff, and guess who isn't invited?"

"I really don't care, sir."

"That's right! You!"

* * * *

"So, I just wanted to warn you that there is a murderer loose in the UN headquarters," Bush told John Bolton over the phone.

"I know. The UN is horribly inefficient so I've been killing people to speed things up. Also, with each soul I take, my 'satche grows in power."

"Oh... okay then. Well, keep up the good work."

"By the way, the President of Iran wants to debate you."

"But I hate debates! They're so boring! And especially don't want to have one with some guy I can't pronounce the name of!" Bush thought for a moment. "I guess I'll talk to Rumsfeld about just nuking Iran, because I was really set on the idea that I'd never have another debate."

As Bush hung up the phone, a TSA agent approached. "Sir, we need you to step aside for special screening before you're allowed on Air Force One."

"Why?"

"Our records show that you previously nearly killed the President, which makes you a special risk for this flight."

"But I didn't mean to choke on that pretzel!"

"Is that a liquid you have with you?"

Bush looked at his bottle of Mountain Dew. "That's my Dew, man."

"Liquids aren't allowed past security. You'll have to hand that over."

Bush clutched his bottle tight. "No one takes my Dew!"

The TSA agent frowned. "Fine, then I guess you aren't getting on the flight." He picked up his walkie-talkie. "Go ahead and take off."

Bush watched as Air Force One left without him. "Aww... there goes my plans for this week. Might as well go play videogames and leave representing the administration up to Snowman." He took a sip of his Mountain Dew. "Eww! This is diet! I don't want this!"

* * * *

"Yes, I can say quite conclusively that Bush was never a member of the Nazi Youth, and, if Wikipedia says otherwise, then someone should correct it. Next question."

David Gregory stepped forward.

"Are you going to behave this time, David?" Tony asked.

"I always behave!" Gregory snapped.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Fine. What's your question?"

Gregory held up a piece of paper and read from it. "The Republicans failed to anticipate the insurgency in Iraq and failed to react appropriately. Because of the distraction of this war--"

"That's not a question, David," Tony interrupted. "You're just reading the Democrats' talking points."

"No I'm not! No I'm not!"

"I can see the DNC logo on that piece of paper from here."

"Nuh-uh!" Gregory tried to hide the piece of paper under his suit jacket. "That was just a blank piece of paper."

"Then I guess you could let me see it."

"No! Mine!"

"Now you're acting like a child, David."

Gregory dropped to the ground and started pounding it while screaming, "I'm not acting like a child! You're acting like a child! Waaaah!"

Suddenly, Rumsfeld burst through the wall to the press briefing room. "Nazi appeasers! All of you! Kill Nazi appeasers! Rarr!"

"Aieee! There's murder in his eyes!" yelled a reporter.

Rumsfeld chased after the press who fled in a panic. Tony shook his head. "Can't I have one press conference that doesn't end with David Gregory throwing a hissy fit and Rumsfeld trying to kill everyone?"

Bush waited by his car in the desert as a truck and a limousine pulled up. Out of the limo exited an Arab gentleman. "Are you ready to buy?"

"If you have the product," Bush answered.

The Arab opened the back of the truck and took out a barrel. He then pulled off the lid. "Pure crude oil. Yours for only $25 a barrel."

The Arab began to replace the lid, but Bush stopped him. "I want to check this out." He stuck two fingers into the crude and then tasted it. He frowned and then leapt at the Arab, grabbing him by the neck. "You watered it down, you macaca!"

"No! It's pure crude oil! I swear!"

"If you're product is so great... THEN WHY DON'T YOU DIE IN IT!" Bush shoved the Arab's man head into the barrel of oil and held it there until he stopped moving.

"Great," Condoleezza Rice sighed, "You killed another Saudi prince."

Bush left the Arab in the barrel and walked back to the car. "So what? They have thousands more." They both got in the car.

"You just seemed more stressed and more murderous lately," Condi said as the car headed out of the desert.

"Hey, not only do I have these gas prices to worry about, but I got terrorism and Iraq and Iran and Hezbollah and North Korea and stupid Democrats and illegal immigration." Bush looked to the driver. "You're legal, right?"

"No hablo ingles."

"See!" Bush said to Condi. "They're all problems and they're not getting better. If I don't solve them all before the end of my term, everyone is going to say, 'Well, that Bush guy, he was no good.' They might even strike my name from the list of Presidents and I'll be forgotten like President Redding."

"Who?"

"Exactly."

"Well, Mr. President, since you can't solve all problems, maybe you should try focusing on one thing. I would suggest--"

"I could cure cancer!" Bush exclaimed. "Then everyone would remember me as the best President ever!"

"I was going to suggest focusing on terrorism," Condi said. "You don't anything about cancer... or curing... or, well, anything."

"Bah! That's what they told the guy who cured polio, and now everyone remembers his name... uh... Louie Pasteur."

Condi shook her head. "I guess I'll warn Tony to prepare defending you to the media for your newest misadventure."

"That's what he's there for."

* * * *

"Rarr!" Rumsfeld shouted. "I'm the Secretary of War! What am I doing in this lab? Science is for homosexuals!"

"I want you to help me cure cancer," Bush said. "It will make you seem more likeable. Now, the first step in curing cancer is to have a test subject with cancer to try your cure on. Open up that barrel, take out a test monkey, and give it cancer."

Rumsfeld opened the barrel covered in warning signs and took out a monkey. "How do I give it cancer? I only know how to snap their necks."

"We have to dose it with radiation." Bush looked around the room. "The copier! I bet that's full of radiation. Hold the monkey down in the copier while I press the copy button."

Rumsfeld pressed the monkey against the glass and Bush hit the copy button. The monkey screeched and tried to claw away each time the light flashed in its face.

"He seems to not like this," Rumsfeld observed.

"Then it's probably working in giving him cancer!" Bush kept hitting the copy button. "Copy the monkey! Copy the monkey!"

Rumsfeld looked at the copier tray. "All I see coming out of this is a bunch of pictures of an angry monkey."

"And that's worth something too!"

Suddenly, the barrel of monkeys fell over and the angry screeching monkeys ran out the door.

"You didn't put the lid back on tight!" Bush yelled.

"Handling monkeys isn't my job," Rumsfeld snarled.

There was a scream, and then a desperate Laura Bush appeared at the door. "There are monkeys loose in the White House!"

"Hmm... I wonder how that happened?" Bush said innocently. "I better call the exterminator."

Laura looked at the monkey being held on the copier. "What are you doing with that monkey?"

"Well... uh... when we found there were monkeys in the White House," Bush said, "we thought we better copy one to send the image to the police to see if they can identify the monkey as part of a terrorist plot. What we were most certainly not doing is trying to give the monkey cancer."

Laura gave Bush and Rumsfeld a suspicious look. "I'm keeping an eye on you two." She then left the room.

Rumsfeld took the monkey off the copier. "I'm done here."

"What? But we haven't cured cancer yet!"

Rumsfeld tossed the monkey into a nearby receptacle. "I have the deaths of many brown people to plot."

Bush ran to the receptacle. "Hey! That bin was for recyclable paper only!" He turned to see that Rumsfeld had already left. "I'm surrounded by incompetence. Now I have to sort this paper from monkey before all our recycling is ruined." He reached into the bin, and then quickly retracted his hand. "Ow! Either a monkey or some paper bit me!"

"As you all know," Bush told the press assembled on the White House lawn, "Terrorists are trying to use explosive liquids to kill people. Thus, for security purposes, it is required that all you reporter empty your bladders before meeting with me for questions. If any of you are caught peeing during this press conference, this guy over here will shoot you." Bush pointed to a nearby Marine.

"I'm Buck the Marine and I kill terrorists."

"You tell 'em, Buck!"

"Mr. President," said one reporter, "why are you standing on a pile of dead terrorists? Is that supposed to be symbolic of something?"

"Yes, it's symbolic of how my administration has killed many many terrorists and will kill many more. I want terrorists to know that we will kill them, and then I'll stand on your dead body and answer questions from moron reporters. That's right, with me, you get results... results we can stand on. Thus, Republicans tower over Democrats because we look down upon from our large piles of dead terrorists while Democrats have no dead terrorists to stand on. Hell, them Democrats never killed nobody. But look under my feet; these people are dead because of my policies. That's results. It may not smell nice, but hardwork isn't always pretty."

"Why isn't the pile larger?" asked the FOX News reporter.

"Well... it ain't like it's all the terrorists we killed... it just symbolic of how many we killed." Bush turned stern. "Now stop being so critical, FOX News. You just recite the talking points we send you each day and then we'll lend you our dead terrorists for those fluff pieces you do. Next question."

"With the growing price of gas--"

"Why are you asking me about gas prices!" Bush asked angrily. "Can't you see I'm standing on top of a pile of dead terrorists? I am mighty! Ask me good questions about killing terrorists!"

"Are you worried that standing on a pile of dead terrorists could be interrepted by some as being offensive to Muslims?"

"Well, this organization CAIR raised that concern... but then I found out that those guys are Islamic and had them arrested for being fascists. Any more questions? And remember to speak up because I'm way up here on top of a pile of dead terrorists."

"Are you going to support the Republican candidate in the Senate race in Connetticut?"

"Why are you asking about Conetticut?" Bush shouted. "Are you not noticing this huge pile of terrorists I'm standing on? Who cares about Conetticut? Americans care about dead terrorists. Now, some one give me a good question."

"How are you going to get all those dead bodies off the White House lawn?"

Bush was silent for a moment. "Hadn't really thought about that. Well, the bodies should all decompose, so I guess the problem will take care of itself. Anyway, I want to show you this cool new thing that should lead to even more piles of dead terrorists."

A fierce looking robot marched out from behind the pile of dead terrorists. It held its hands up in a threatening manner.

"People are worried about discrimination in trying to find terrorists at airports," Bush continued, "but a robot can't be unfairly prejudiced because it's got circuits and electricty for a brain. Thus, we've made robots that will patrol the airports, identify terrorists and terrorist supporters, and crush their heads with its mighty robot steel hands."

"But won't this--" a New York Times reporter started to say but then had his head crushed by the robot.

"I should note that there are many different definitions of terrorists," Bush said. "This robot was programmed by Condi, so it will... and there goes the head of a Reuters reporter. Anyway, as I look down upon you all from my pile of dead terrorists while you tremble in fear of my head-crushing robot, it brings me hope for a great American future. I hope it brings all those watching hope as well. To further that hope, I want to introduce yet another weapon against terror: Drunken Rumsfeld!"

A bleary Rumsfeld stumbled out onto the lawn.

"The terrorists may have their deadly liquids, but no liquid is more deadly than whiskey when applied to Donald Rumsfeld. He's now a mindless killing machine!"

Rumsfeld's stared at the press.

"Aieeee!" one reporter screamed. "He has murder in his eyes!"

"Rarr!" Rumsfeld yelled as he chased the reporters.

"I guess that ends the press conference," Bush laughed to himself. He then looked for a way down from his pile of dead terrorists. "Uh... a little help here." No one answered. "Hello? Anybody around?" Still no answer. "Head-crushing robot, could you get me down without crushing me?"

The robot just stared at Bush with its cold, lifeless eyes.

"I guess I'll just wait up here then."

Chomps seemed to smell something in the air that made him excited.

"I smell it too, boy," Rumsfeld told the rottweiler. "That's the smell of war brewing. If things continue as they are in the Middle East, we will soon be in a new World War, and all our enemies will suffer. Then maybe I can complete my goal as Secretary of War and conquer all of Europe."

"What are you doing?!" Bush exclaimed.

Rumsfeld set down a nuclear warhead. "We're moving the nukes around in case of more war."

"Don't put them in the White House dining room! Laura will kill me!" Bush's cell phone rang. "It's Condi; I have to take this." He answered the phone. "What's up?"

"I can't stand it out here in the Middle East!"

"Well, there's lots of conflict now with Hezbollah and what not, so we need you out there... talking to people or something. Honestly, I don't know what the Secretary of State does; that's why I didn't get that job."

"I have to talk with all these Islamic idiots out here, that's what I have to do! And guess what: they don't like women. Not too fond of black people either."

"Just do your best to keep your temper and not try and stab one of them in the eye with a fork again."

"It was the heat," Condi explained. "Made me sluggish; that's why I missed."

"You're missing my point. You try that diplomacy thing... the variety without the eye-stabbing."

"You're not the boss of me!" Condi hung up.

Bush put his phone away and turned to Rumsfeld. "I really am not getting much respect lately."

Rumsfeld put a warhead on the dining table, knocking off some silverware. "My job is much easier if you don't talk to me."

"I guess I'll head to my office to do some work." A thought stuck him. "Or maybe Celebrity Poker is on!"

Bush headed down the hallway and ran into Senator Joe Lieberman. "Hey! It's my favorite Senator!"

"About that; I was wondering if you could publicly denounce me."

Bush was confused. "Why would I do that? I love you Joe!"

"Well, it would help in the Democratic primary if you spoke out against me."

Bush was even more confused. "When did you become a Democrat?"

"I've always been a Democrat. Don't you remember me and Gore running against you in 2000?"

Bush thought for a moment. "What gored you in 2000?"

"Forget it. Just please publicly denounce me. It will be a big help."

"Whatever you say, Joe my buddy. Hey! I got an idea! I could say you molested my daughters!"

"Uh... how about something a little less extreme."

"Okay; whatever you want, Joe. You're my best friend in the Senate. Why, if I were gay and I could get the laws changed, I would marry you. I don't think my father and I would ever see eye to eye on it, but eventually..."

"Uh... yeah... nice talking to you, Mr. President." Lieberman gave Bush one last odd glance before turning and quickly walking away.

"What a nice fella." Bush turned to see Laura standing behind him, staring at him angrily.

"There are nukes all over the dining room!"

"It was Rumsfeld! Go yell at him!"

Laura glared at Bush until he began to cower. "Rumsfeld is old, crazy, and warmongering; you're supposed to keep an eye on him. I want you to personally put all those nukes back where they belong!"

"The linen closet?"

"No! The nuke bin in the garage! And move them soon; Rumsfeld's dog is chewing on one of them, and the radiation poisoning could cause him to vomit. Then there will be another thing for you to clean up."

"Okay." Bush headed back for the dining room. On his way, he caught sight of a TV.

"There has been another deadly attack in the Middle East leaving at least six injured," the anchorman said. "The suspect for the attack has been described as 'Bush's crazy black woman' and is said to be armed with some sort of eating utensil."

"How come I get the feeling this isn't going to reflect well on my administration," Bush muttered to himself. He then noticed a group of school children touring the White House. "Hey, I wonder if any of them want nukes?"

Democrats on Thursday said they remain opposed to President Bush's pick for U.N. ambassador, contending that John Bolton has not yet repaired his reputation as an ineffective "bully."

Bolton was noticeably disturbed by this characterization, and proceeded to give numerous Senate Democrats wedgies while forcing others to eat dirt. He then made every Senate Democrat hand over his or her lunch money (or, in Ted Kennedy's case, his booze money).

In other news, Senator Joe Biden held an impromptu press conference where, while held in a headlock by John Bolton, he admitted for the first time that he is in fact a "little girl."

Bush turned to Cheney. "Hezbollah really needs to stop this @#$%. Israel really has to go ahead and kill those mother@#$%ers. What do you think?"

"Hezbollah should go @#$% themselves."

"Mr. President..." Tony Snow tapped Bush on the shoulder and pointed to the press who were staring back at them wide-eyed. "...the mike is on."

Bush sighed. "Oh @#$%; not again. What we really need is a big @#$%ing sign that tells us when the mike is on."

"We have one." Tony pointed to a lit sign behind the press that clearly said, "Microphone On."

"Well, we need a @#$%ing bigger one!" Bush looked to the press and smiled. "Anyway, what I wanted to tell you all was that I think there can be a peaceful solution to the crisis in the Middle East with no more deaths necessary."

"Will this 'peaceful solution' involve the killing of mother@#$%ers?" a reporter asked.

"No... not necessarily."

"What about the @#$%ing children!" Helen Thomas cackled. "Why won't you stop the @#$%ing Israelis from killing children?"

Bush shook his head. "What the @#$% is she still doing in the White House Press Corps? Does anyone capable of coherent though have a question?"

"What exactly is Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice supposed to accomplish in her meeting with foreign leaders?" another reporter asked. "I mean, what the @#$% is she out there doing?"

"Well... uh... what isn't she doing?"

* * * *

"I'm here to help bring an end to this crisis," Condi told the foreign leaders.

"How?" asked one of the foreign leaders, "You're not doing anything but meeting with people for short talks."

"Well... talking is doing something." They stared silently at each other for a while. "I think we're making progress."

* * * *

"Isn't it true," said a reporter, "that the U.S. is simply standing back and waiting for Israel to go ape-@#$% and @#$%ing kill everyone?"

"No," Bush answered, "that's not the full extent of our strategy. And, can everyone stop swearing? Kids could be watching this."

"Research shows that the only people who @#$%ing pay attention to these press conferences anymore are the @#$%ing bloggers," the reporter said. "Actually, I'd like to say this for any @#$%ing blogger who may be reading this transcript: @#$% you, you @#$%ing pajama-wearing, ankle-biting, basement-dwelling little @#$%!"

"Whatever." Bush looked to the rest of the press. "Do you guys have questions on anything else?"

"I have questions about your incompetence in the war," said one reporter.

"I have some about your trampling our civil rights," said another.

"I have yet some more questions about Abu Ghraib," said the New York Times reporter. "We're planning yet another article on Abu Ghraib to accompany the article about a new secret program we found out about."

"Well, this press conference is now over!" Bush yelled. He turned to Cheney. "These reporters need to stop this @#$%. We really should kill all there mother@#$%ers."

"Mr. President..."

"I know the mike is on!"

Based on a true story.

"It's good to talk to the troops here in Afghanistan," Rumsfeld said. "We can all feel good knowing that we accomplished our mission and killed all the Taliban."

"But the Taliban aren't all dead!" shouted a Marine in the audience.

"What!? Rarr!" Rumsfeld smashed the podium in front of him in rage. "Then what am I doing here just talking?" Rumsfeld pulled out dual .45s. "Time to kill some Taliban! I'll need someone to come with me and count my kills." He looked towards one Marine. "You! What's your name?"

"Buck."

"Buck who?"

"Buck... the Marine!"

* * * *

"Hey, Omar, I don't think this whole 'Taliban' thing has worked out as well as we thought it would."

"Why do you say that, Ahmed?"

"Well, it started out fun with us beating people to death who didn't have long enough beards and blowing up giant Buddha statues--"

"And don't forget oppressing women!"

"Of course, Omar - everyone loves that. Anyway, it was fun starting out, but now we're hunted and killed like dogs� and these beards are really itching."

"I would not worry, Ahmed; I can feel a benevolent presence watching us as we speak."

* * * *

Rumsfeld spied on the Taliban with binoculars. "There they are. Time to make them all dead. How many do you think there are?"

Buck shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno. Maybe thirty."

"We need to flush them our way so we can show them their entrails before they die."

Buck checked the magazine on his M-16. "That is an educational death. You'd be surprised how many people have never seen what real entrails looks like before a Marine guts them. So how do we flush them out?"

"It's being taken care of."

* * * *

"So what should we do now, Omar?"

"I dunno, Ahmed. We could get a copy of the New York Times and see what the American military is up to."

"But I hate that fish-wrap! I'd rather covert to Judaism than read Krugman or Dowd."

"Then let's consult Chomps, the world's angriest Taliban, on what to do. Hey, Chomps, what should be our next attack?"

Chomps just growled.

"You know, Omar, Chomps kinda looks like an angry rottweiler."

Omar nodded. "A very angry rottweiler."

* * * *

As Chomps chased the Taliban, Buck and Rumsfeld gunned them down. It was over in minutes.

Buck surveyed all the dead Taliban as he reloaded his rifle. "I never get tired of shooting the Taliban. They yell funny things and they fall down dead. If I had a camera, I bet it could win one of those funny video contests."

Rumsfeld holstered his pistols and pet Chomps on the head. "I certainly like killing people better than giving speeches. Now I'm off to Baghdad. The troops deployed there better not tell me they've failed to kill all the Iraqis."

"But the mission never was to kill the Iraqis."

"What!? Rarr!"

"Dong! Dong! Dong!"

"What is it, Dear Leader?" asked Kim Jong Il's aide.

"We launch Taepodong missile now! We show world we mighty!"

"But I don't think the missile is ready for--"

"Show them my dong! Dong! Dong! Dong!"

"Fine! Will launch the missile! Just stop saying, 'Dong.'" The aide gave a motion to the missile command, and they commenced launching a missile.

Jong rubbed his grubby hands together. "Hee hee hee! Now all the world will fear my dong! First, I must get my hair poofier! They will fear me when my hair is poofy and they see my dong! Poofier! Poofier! Dong! Dong!"

"I can't make it any poofier!" cried Jong's hair stylist. "If it gets any more poofy, the static electricity it would generate could set off the nuclear warheads and kill us all!"

"Poofier! Dong! Dong! Dong!"

The aide got off the phone. "That was the Chinese. They say they want their trains back. Did you steal the trains the Chinese sent their aid on?"

"No steal! Trains are part of aid! Trains are ours!"

"I know we need more trains, but, if we keep taking the Chinese trains, they won't send anymore aid."

"They will do what we tell them when they see my dong! Launch another Taepodong! Dong! Dong! Dong! Dong! Do--"

"Okay! Please just stop saying, 'Dong.'" The aide motioned to missile command to launch another missile.

"Hee hee hee! All will see my dong and cower!"

* * * *

Bush watched the sky with binoculars and started giggling. "Know what the North Koreans call these?"

"The missiles?" Condoleezza Rice asked.

"Yeah. They call them 'Taepo.'" Bush laughed some more. "What the hell kind of name is that?"

"I believe it's a Korean name."

Bush thought about that. "I guess that makes sense, then. So, can we shoot down the missiles?"

"What I'm hearing from the military commanders is that they're falling harmlessly into the sea too fast for us to shoot them down."

Bush considered that. "So you're saying we're impotent to shoot down the North Korean's impotent missiles?"

Condi giggled. "Do you realize you just called Kim Jong Il's dong 'impotent'?"

Bush stared at her. "I don't get it."

"I am here to announce that an Al Qaeda terrorist cell on our own soil has been destroyed," Bush said to the press. "You may now praise me for how super-smart I am."

"Is this 'terrorist cell' you refer to the New York Times?" asked a reporter.

Bush shrugged. "I don't know what these terrorists chose to call themselves, but what I do know is they provided aid and comfort to the enemy and tried to inform them of our spying efforts. Now, all those involved in this said terrorist cell have been either killed or captured. The captured are now at Gitmo where they will be forced to listen to rap music while we fiddle with the AC. Oh, and we may beat them with sticks." Bush looked to Attorney General Alberto Gonzales. "Hey, Gonzo, is it okay to beat them with sticks?"

"Doesn�t affect me, so I don�t care."

Bush turned back to the press. "Well also beat them with sticks. Any other questions?"

"Isn't punishing the New York Times for revealing a program they thought to be questionable in its legality have implications on our freedom of speech?" a reporter inquired.

Bush laughed. "That's silly. We never stopped anyone from the New York Times from speaking. We just... well... shot them. I want everyone to know that they are free to report on any spying programs they know about. That we may kill you for it is neither here nor there."

"What do you say to reports that Donald Rumsfeld has been spotted wandering around New York with an expression like he's about to hurt someone?"

"Again, that's a dumb question," Bush said. "Rumsfeld always looks ready to hurt someone because he is, at all times, ready to hurt someone. As for being in New York, he decided to personally take on a special assignment. We know that the New York Times has been publishing information of interest to terrorists, but we aren't certain how that information gets to terrorists. With the recent spying program leak, it was first publicized by talk radio and blogs... but we know none of those people actually read the Times. But, somewhere out there, there must be one sick bastard who actually reads the New York Times and then blabs about what's in it. Since someone so twisted must be a danger to society, we will apprehend and/or kill him. Probably kill him."

"I have a question about--"

"Is that a camera?" Bush shouted, pointing at a TV camera. "Are you people recording this? You're all terrorist spies! Get them, Secret Police!"

Bush's Secret Police ran into the room and started beating the reporters with clubs. Bush turned to Alberto. "So is it okay I ship all these people off to Gitmo?"

"Again, doesn't affect me, so I don't care. Now don't ask me anymore questions unless it's about what pizza toppings we're going to order."

"Here is our current military problem," Rumsfeld told President Bush as he put a slide on screen. It was a picture of smiling faces of many different races and cultures. "Foreigners! And the solution is: Kill all foreigners."

"I'm afraid you're stuck in a rut, Rummy," Bush said. "So I'm bringing in some fresh ideas."

"Rarr!" Rumsfeld yelled. "How dare you!"

"Calm down. I just want everyone to be on board in fighting the terrorists, so I thought I'd bring in a Democrat to help with planning as co-Secretary of Defense. It was easy to pick, since there is only one Democrat actually laying out a plan."

There was a pounding on the door to the conference room. "The door won't open!" a voice shouted.

"Did you try the handle?" Bush suggested.

"The what?"

"Sheesh." Bush walked over and opened the door. In walked Murtha clad in pajamas and slippers.

"Where am I?"

"You're in a conference room at the White House to help with military strategery," Bush explained slowly.

"Can I just go ahead and strangle him now?" Rumsfeld asked.

"No. Let's first hear what he has to say."

Murtha walked over to a map of the world on the wall. "We need to get out of Iraq! It's dangerous. We need to get our troops elsewhere."

"But where?" Bush asked.

Murtha looked over the map. "Well... uh... I don't see it on here on the map... but we should redeploy to the moon!"

"Can I strangle him now?"

"No, Rummy!" Bush shouted.

"The moon is perfect," Murtha continued. "We can just as easily fight terrorism from there. It's up high, so we can see everything. When we need to strike somewhere, we can just jump and we'll fall right towards it."

"Brilliant!" Bush exclaimed. He then thought for a moment and his enthusiasm faded. "Hey, but what if someone nukes the moon?"

"We'll cover the moon with a Plexiglas shield," Murtha said. "Plexiglas is strong."

"Brilliant!"

Rumsfeld sat down. "Just tell me when it's okay for me to strangle him."

"The only problem with the moon," Murtha explained, "is that it may contain a race of angry mole-people."

Bush shivered. "Oh no! Not mole-people!"

"If that's true, then we'll have to redeploy elsewhere."

"But where?"

Murtha looked over the map and then pointed to one area. "What's this place called?"

"The Pacific Ocean," Rumsfeld answered as he tensed his hands for a strangling.

"Are we going under the sea?" Bush asked.

"No, there are giant squids down there," Murtha said. "We'll make a base that floats. Now, what floats?"

"Dead bodies," Rumsfeld answered.

"Very small rocks?" Bush said.

"Styrofoam peanuts," Murtha stated. "I have a lot at my house and we can make a base out of them. Now I just need to sit down for a second." Murtha took a seat and immediately fell asleep.

Rumsfeld stood up. "I guess it's time to strangle him."

"You can't strangle him while he's sleeping; he's a veteran."

Rumsfeld thought for a moment. "How about I just throw him in the Potomac?"

"Okay."

"Prime Minister Nuri al-Maliki!"

Nuri jumped from his desk. "What? Who is it?" He saw the smiling face of President Bush. "What are you doing here in Baghdad?"

"I came to support your burgeoning democracy!"

"Oh. Well, I guess you can..."

Bush picked up a knife. "What's this?"

"That's my letter opener! Be care..."

Bush swung it around and cut a hole in the wall. "Whoops. I'll put it down."

"Good because..."

Bush picked up something else. "What's this?"

"That's an expensive vase! Be very..."

The vase fell and shattered on the floor. "Uh-oh; I done broke it."

Nuri tried to keep his fists from clenching. "That's okay. Just don't..."

"What's this?"

"That's my 'World's Best Prime Minister Mug.' Hand it over!" Nuri reach to grab it, but Bush accidentally tilted it over, pouring scalding hot coffee onto Nuri's groin. "Aieee! You idiot! Stop touching things!"

Bush hung is head. "I just came to support your democracy and you yelled at me."

"I'm sorry. Why don't you go sit over by the window and quietly support democracy while I get a towel."

"Okay." Bush sat down. He looked out the window. "Oh no! I see someone... and I think he's an Arab. He might even be a Muslim! He could be here to attack us!" He paused for a moment as he watched. "There's a whole army of them out on the Baghdad streets!"

"Idiot!" Nuri shouted, "Most of the population is..." Nuri paused and thought for a moment. "Hey, they might be suicide bombers. You better go stand out front of the building and check on them."

"I'll check on them good!" Bush ran out of the office.

Nuri found a towel in a cabinet. "Idiot. Ah, but I dream of the day our democracy will be so strong that we can elect someone as dumb as him."

* * * *

As Bush got out onto the street, he spotted a Marine. "Is that you, Buck?"

"Yes, Mr. President sir. It is I, Buck - Buck the Marine, that is. I have some time off, so I thought I'd spend it in Baghdad where I get shot at less than my usual locations."

"Well, I'm looking for Muslim terrorists, so you can help me."

"Yes, sir. I must warn you, though, the commanders have gotten really pissy about us killing civilians, so we have to be careful."

"I'll be careful." Bush watched the crowd of people in front of them. "We need to check out these people to see if they are terrorists. A lot of there people look Arab... but I sometime get them confused with Latinos. If they're Latino, don't question them too much because I don't want to hurt the Latino vote by exposing illegal aliens. But, whatever you do, don't call it 'amnesty.'"

Buck furrowed his brow. "Uh... I don't think there are many Latinos here... outside of U.S. forces, that is."

"Don't ask don't tell." Bush spotted one man walking by. "Grab him!"

Buck grabbed the Iraqi and put him in a headlock.

"Who are you?" Bush demanded.

"I am but a simple apple vendor."

"Buck! Check him for bombs to see if he's a terrorist. If he is, beat him up!"

Buck patted down the Iraqi. "He's clean."

"Then check his voter registration card to see if he's a Democrat. If he is, beat him up!"

Buck let the man go. "I don't think there are Democrats in Iraq."

"Really? Then we're making more progress than I thought." Bush's cell phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket. "You're speaking to the most powerful man in the world... Hey, Snowman... Good economic news? Oh no! Make sure the press doesn't find out about it... Because they always spin it to make it sound bad, stupid. By the way, did you hear how I'm in Baghdad? ...Really? It made the papers? I can't believe I made the newspapers again. Make sure to cut out any article in any paper that mentions me so I can see... I don't care if it takes all day. Do it!" Bush hung up and looked to Buck. "That was Tony Snow. His job is to make sure the press knows I'm smart and in charge. He was on FOX News."

"I like FOX News."

"Me too!"

A man ran up to Bush and Buck. He pulled open his coat revealing a bomb strapped to him. In his right hand he held a detonator. "When I heard you were here, I rushed over to kill you! I will be the greatest martyr ever!"

"Oh no! A human bomb!" Bush shouted. "I don't know how to defuse those."

"I do." Buck pulled out a .45 and shot the terrorist in the head. The terrorist fell dead to the dusty street.

"Yay!" Bush exclaimed. "We defeated terrorism thanks to my leadership!"

Some American press rushed to the scene. "Due to Bush's low approval rating, people are now trying to blow him up." The reporter looked to Bush. "I notice your lack body armor. Is this because you aren't properly funding our civilian-murdering troops?"

"The armor was bulky and I didn't want to wear it. You can't tell me what to wear!" Bush punched the reporter, knocking him to ground and started kicking him. "I only wear what I want, so you shut up!" After a minute, he stopped and turned to Buck. "I can only kick a reporter for so long before I get bored. Want to go find Zarqawi's body and wander the streets with him pretending he's alive like on Weekend at Bernie's?"

Buck shrugged his shoulders. "I'm on leave; why not."

"So some Muslims wanted to behead me, and I was like, 'What's this all aboot, eh?'"

"Did they succeed?"

"No, I still have my head, eh. Anyway, the reason I called..."

President Bush saw some movement outside the window. "Hey, I got some business to attend to. Later, Mr. Canadian." Bush then hung up on the Prime Minister and shouted out his window. "Get off my lawn!"

"What's the matter, dear?" Laura Bush asked.

"Politics just hasn't been working out for me lately," Bush whined, "and now illegal immigrants are getting gay married on the White House lawn."

"Well, I think you brought this on yourself. At least your poll numbers are doing better; now a third of the country likes you."

"Wow! That's a lot of people!" Bush exclaimed. He then paused for a moment. "Does my mom like me again yet?"

"No, I'm afraid not."

"I'll win her back one of these days," Bush vowed. "Anyway, I got bigger worries with that Haditha incident. Right now, I have Marines going through sensitivity training to make sure we don't have more incidents."

* * * *

"So, it's important not to shoot children," the Marine officer said, "unless they got it coming. Any questions?"

"Can we still shoot midgets?" Buck the Marine asked.

"Sure. The important thing is we don't want any wanton slaughter of civilians, because them Democrats love that and will use that to pull us out. Then, you won't get to kill anyone, and you don't want that, do you?"

"No, sir!" the Marines shouted.

"Can't we just shoot the Democrats?" Gomez asked.

"No, they ain't foreign, stupid," Buck told him.

"Hey, I was just trying to think outside the box."

* * * *

"Rummy is holding a press conference to assure reporters that incidents like Haditha will be fully investigated," Bush told Laura. He turned on the TV.

"A whole press room of reporters was found strangled," the anchorman said. "A note was found at the scene reading, 'I, Donald Rumsfeld, strangled all these people because their questions were impudent.' D.C. police are once again baffled and slightly tipsy. We sent a reporter to get a statement from Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld who was supposed to give that press conference, but that reporter was found strangled as well. Whether that murder is related to the others is unknown."

Bush turned off the TV. "Not that mysterious 'Rumsfeld Strangler' again; the police are never going catch him. Well, less reporters means less bad news." He saw Rumsfeld walk by his office. "You okay, Rummy?"

"My hands are sore."

"Arthritis?" Laura asked.

"I don't have to answer your questions," Rumsfeld grumbled as he stormed off.

"That's our Rummy!" Bush chuckled.

"Hey, I meant to ask," Laura said, "Why is Harry Reid pinned under your desk?"

Bush looked at the twitching legs sticking out from beneath his overturned desk. "I don't remember. I think there is a reason."

"Well, I'm going to go back to dusting. Tell me if you figure it out." Laura left the office.

Bush kicked one of Harry Reid's legs. "Oh! Now I remember. I pinned Harry Reid under my desk to remind myself on getting more of the good economic news out there."

Bush ran out into the hallway and found Tony Snow. "Snowman, we need to get more emphasis on the good economy to fight all the bad publicity. Thus, we're going to rob a liquor store."

"I don't really follow that logic."

"I'm the President!" Bush shouted. "That's all you need to know!" Bush spotted Cheney. "Hey, Dick, we're robbing a liquor store. You in?"

"Big time!"

"Just watch that itchy trigger finger of yours; I don't want you shooting someone in the face with a shotgun again."

"Then I'm out." Cheney walked off.

"Can't we just mention economic news in my press conference?" Tony asked.

Bush put on a ski mask and pulled out a handgun. "No one watches those. We just use them to distract the press from other things. But, if we rob a liquor store and people hear about how much money is stolen, they'll know the economy must be good!"

Laura came walking by with her feather-duster and noticed Bush in his ski mask. "What are you doing?"

"I'm... about to go skiing."

"Then why have the gun?"

"Uh... biathlon training."

"But you said the Winter Olympics are gay."

"Uh... maybe I'm gay." Bush nudged Tony and whispered, "Back me up on this."

"I'm going to go hold that press conference." Tony quickly headed away.

"You better not be up to something," Laura warned Bush.

Bush placed his gun over his heart. "I swear on my father's grave I'm not."

* * * *

"You got a newspaper in here?"

"Yeah. So?" said Bush's cellmate.

Bush reached over to grab a section. "Can I see if there is any information about my poll numbers?"

"You touch my paper, I'll cut you."

Bush folded his arms. "Fine. Don't share."

Attorney General Alberto Gonzales stormed into the Oval Office. "Those gringos in Congress keep trying to stop me from investigating them. When I came to search for more bribery evidence, they told me to 'go eat some burritos.' I think that might have been an ethnic slur, but I still took the suggestion." Alberto took a bite from his burrito.

"Something is up with that Congress!" Bush declared. "Last time I visited them, I think I saw them forging my signature on bills." Bush shot to his feet and knocked over his desk. "It's time to break up whatever racket they have going." He looked to Alberto. "First, I'll need one of your burritos because I'm hungry."

"Get your own."

"Aww."

* * * *

Bush kicked open the doors to Congress. "Where are you, Denny? It's time to talk."

Dennis Hastert turned to face Bush. He was wearing a pimp hat, holding a pimp cane, and surrounded by hos. "What's the matter, Dubya? Everything is cool here."

"Then how come I heard that you�re selling drugs to the kids who come here on field trips?"

"What kid snitched on me?" Hastert demanded angrily as he shook his cane in the air. "Sounds like someone is in need of a pimp slap!"

"I know something is going on here!" Bush declared. "I want you to cooperate with the FBI!"

"There ain't nothing to find here, so why don't you get out of here before I put my foot up your ass."

Bush rolled up his sleeves. "You're pushing me, Hastert. Just look at my poll numbers; I ain't got nothing to lose."

Nancy Pelosi walked over and looked at Bush with disgust. "What does he want?"

"He thinks he needs to let the FBI investigate our offices," Hastert explained.

"That's silly," Pelosi said. "That's just the Executive Branch overreaching."

"What do you have to hide?" Bush asked suspiciously. "Are you trying to keep the FBI from finding out you're actually an evil sewer mutant?"

"I'll feast upon your blood!" Pelosi shrieked and leapt at Bush, but Hastert held her back with his pimp cane.

"Dubya, why don't you get out of here before we pass a bipartisan declaration saying that you're a square," Hastert said.

"But... but... I'm cool!"

Hastert adjusted his pimp hat. "Then let Congress do what Congress does."

Bush hung his head. "Okay. I'll go."

"When you're on your way out could you give this to a guy waiting on the corner?" Hastert handed something wrapped in tin foil to Bush.

"What is it?"

"Nothing... but don't look in it."

* * * *

Bush dialed a number on the phone. "Hey, Laura! I need you to bail me out of prison again... I didn't understand the charges; they said they'll explain them to me in court tomorrow... Well, I don't think I did anything wrong, but you stay away from Congress! You'll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy... That was from Star Wars; I'm so proud you recognized that... Is there anything else I need? Well� uh� tell Alberto to share his burritos!"

"So, is this story about Karl Rove being indicted true?" Jason Leopold asked. "If not, I could be completely discredited."

"It is quite true," said the hooded figure hiding in the shadows. "Publish it immediately."

"Okay, then!" Leopold typed away at his computer. "By the way, who are you?"

"My name is..." The hooded figure was silent for a moment. "...Rarl Kove."

* * * *

"So Jesse MacBeth was a fraud made to discredit us all!" exclaimed an angry anti-war activist. "I was so sure he was for real when I saw he had a beret and everything! I bet the Bush Administration was behind this... probably Karl Rove himself!"

The other anti-war activist nodded in agreement. Suddenly, though, they were pelted with rocks.

"Who is throwing rocks at us? It must be Karl Rove!"

They turned to see a hooded figure disappear into the darkness as a blood-curdling laugh filled the air.

* * * *

Markos Z�niga was curled up in a fetal position on the floor and muttering to himself. "Maybe I am too far to the left. Maybe I do hurt the Democrats. Maybe since every candidate I support loses, I should give up. And, maybe, I should take my medication."

"No, my child," echoed a voice in the room. "You are the only one who knows the true path... you and the readers of DailyKos. The problem with the Democrats is they are not far enough to the left. They need to be more liberal! More!"

Markos got to his feet and wiped his face on his Ned Lamont t-shirt. "That's what I keep saying! They all say I'm wrong... but they must be wrong! Screw 'em! Screw 'em all! Tee hee hee hee hee!" Markos then stared at the hooded figure before him who lurked in the darkness. "Who are you?"

"I am your conscience."

Markos scratched his head. "I have a conscience?"

* * * *

Patrick Fitzgerald sat down for dinner with his family, but then the doorbell rang. When he answered the door, no one was there. He looked down to see a dead cat and a note saying, "Courtesy the man who ruined Fitzmas."

"Mittens!" Fitzgerald exclaimed. He then shook his fist at the darkness outside his house. "I'll get you for killing our cat, Karl Rove! I'll get you yet!"

An evil laugh answered.

* * * *

Karl Rove stood before The Pit of Unimaginable Terror and Punditry. Its evil light lit his face. "Dark spirits! Give me the power to manipulate the wills of others! Help me lead my enemies to their own demise! Bring forth the demon..."

"Hey, Rover!" President Bush called out.

"How did you get into my secret lair?" Rove demanded.

"As usual, I fell down a hole today." Bush looked around. "So what are you up ta? This place looks neat." Bush stared down the pit. "If I throw a penny down there, will my wish come true?"

"Don't disturb anything!" Rove commanded. "There are powers here of which you could never hope to understand."

"I saw a lot of Mexicans working in your underground mines here," Bush said. "Is that why you keep telling me not to be a hardliner on illegal immigration?"

"It's all part of the plan."

"And what's this plan lead to?"

"As predicted by the ancient Book of Punditry, when the planets and the stars and the polls align, I can summon forth a power unlike this world has ever known! With it, all will bow to me, and, if I so desire, I can even rend apart the universe itself!"

"Destroy the universe..." Bush thought about that. "Might be unpopular with the base, but well, at least we have an agenda; that's how we keep beating the Democrats."

"Now leave this place before I eat your soul."

"Okey-dokey."

"Good job with your first press conference," President Bush told Tony Snow.

"Thanks. I found the best way to handle Helen Thomas was to spray her in the face with a water bottle every time she tried to speak. I figure if I keep it up, she'll learn not to talk at all."

"Maybe, but Ari Fleischer tried the same thing, but instead of spraying her with a water bottle, he clunked her on the head with a tire iron� and that still never took. There was one thing about your press conference I didn't like, though, and I think that was violating our first rule." Bush pointed to a sign on the wall.

Tony read the sign aloud. "'No matter what, never admit it's amnesty.'"

Bush looked at the sign. "Oh, I guess we changed the first rule. Anyway, it used to be 'There is no crying in this administration.' I don't care if you barely survived cancer, Snowman; I barely survived a pretzel, and I didn't cry... even though I really really wanted to. Anyway, it's time to appease the base." Bush walked over to a map of the world and whapped Mexico with a pointer. "I think the only way now is to invade Mexico."

"Invade Mexico? Well, I guess that will be easy with troops at the border."

"No, they'll expect that." Bush pointed to Guatemala. "We'll invade from here and they'll never see it coming." He thought for a moment. "So now I need a plan to invade Guatemala."

Condi stormed into the room and yanked away Bush's pointer. "Wars are for popular Presidents. You finish the ones you have and just work on border security."

"Ahh... border security is boring," Bush moaned. "Well, I guess I'll head to the border and work on the problem." He turned to Tony. "You tell everyone I'm doing a lot about illegal immigration and not to say bad things about me because the NSA will know... but don't admit we have an NSA spying program. Actually, deny we have an NSA."

"Uh... I'll come up with something to say."

"Yes, you say�" Bush marched off. "�I do."

* * * *

Attorney General Alberto Gonzales stood by the border wearing his Sombrero of Authority and matching poncho. Next to him was some high-tech gadgetry. Bush walked over to him. "What do we have here?"

"A virtual fence," Alberto said and handed goggles to Bush while taking a pair for himself. They both put them on, and Bush then saw in front of him a giant wall of pure concrete.

"Wow! When you wear these, it appears that we actually care about border security!" Bush exclaimed.

"All we have to do is get everyone to wear these and it's like we really have a fence," Alberto said. "We would also need to get Mexicans to wear these if we don't want them all running over here while we're admiring our virtual fence. But, if they do come in..." In the virtual world, Alberto pointed up at some butterflies flying over the fence. "�it won't look so bad. See, those butterflies are virtual representation of illegal immigrants crossing our borders."

"Wow! They're almost blocking out the sky!" Bush looked down and saw a newspaper on the ground. He picked it up and read it. "Cool! In this world, my approval rating is almost 40%!"

The good news disappeared as Alberto pulled off Bush's goggles. "I have something else to show you. If the virtual fence doesn't work, I hired a consultant for another option."

Standing near them was a tall, old, bearded man wearing a robe and holding a staff. "I am Gandalf the Gray," he said, "and I shall make you a magical fence."

"Yay!" Bush squealed. "I love magic."

Gandalf faced some Mexicans nearing the border. Gandalf then yelled, "You cannot pass! I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the Flame of Anor! The Dark Flame will not avail you, Flame of Udun. Go back to the shadow!" Gandalf struck the ground with his staff. "You� shall� not� pass!"

A rock struck Gandalf in the head, knocking him to the ground. The Mexicans then all ran over him.

"That could have gone better," Bush said. "Well, I guess this problem cannot be solved. Anyhoo, I'm hungry for some Mexican food. How about you, Speedy?"

"If you're paying," Alberto answered.

As they walked off, a thought struck Bush. "What if we made a real fence?"

Alberto slapped Bush across the back of his head. "That would lower property values, you stupid gringo!"

[UPDATE: Now with spooky ending!]

A horn honked outside the White House. "Hey! Bush!"

President Bush stuck his head out the window. "What?"

"I hate you!" The man sped off down the street.

Bush collapsed in his office chair. "Aww... everyone hates me."

"Why are you talking to me?" Condoleezza Rice asked. "I don't like you!" She left the Oval Office.

The hooded figure of Karl Rove emerged from the shadows. "I have good news."

"It better not be about how you saved money on car insurance because mine just went up since my insurer hate me."

"No. The news I bring is about the popularity of Congress. It is at an all time low." Rove handed a sheet of polling data to Bush.

"Wow! Despite polling the low thirties, I'm the most popular politician in Washington!" Bush turned to Rove. "I guess the American people just hate all politicians now. Maybe it's time for some bi-partisan action."

"Muh ha ha ha!" Rove disappeared back into the shadows.

Bush chuckled. "Rover sure is a jovial fella. Anyway, it's time to make America love politicians."

* * * *

"Nothing says love like a carnival!" Bush exclaimed. "And, with a carnival run by politicians, people will love us again."

Cheney just grumbled.

"You have to have a better spirit than that," Bush said. "And I thought I told you to not bring a shotgun; people are going to be afraid that you're gonna shoot 'em in the face."

Cheney rubbed his shotgun. "Maybe they should be afraid."

Bush turned to check on the Democrats. Nancy Pelosi's skin was stretched back so that her teeth were bared. The site made Bush recoil in horror, and nearby children screamed and ran away. "What are you doing?" Bush demanded.

"I'm smiling," Pelosi answered.

"Then don't ever smile again. We're trying to make people like us, not give them nightmares. Don't make me regret including you Democrats." Bush looked to Harry Reid. "So how are things going with you, Dingy Harry?"

"I keep trying to make the kids balloon animals, but they kick me in the groin."

"Yeah, kids will do that... to you."

"There are those stupid politicians!" a man shouted. A crowd then headed over to Bush, Cheney, Pelosi, and Reid.

"What are you going to do about illegal immigration?" one woman demanded.

"I'll tell you what I won't do," Bush said, "Amnesty. I may do something that seems like amnesty and goes along with any standard definition of amnesty and everyone will call it amnesty... but it's not amnesty because we have a different name for it."

"The most important thing about Mexican immigrants," Reid stated, "is getting them registered to vote."

"And we have to make sure ballots are in Spanish," Pelosi added.

Cheney waved his shotgun around. "I shoot Mexicans in the face!"

"This man has a plan," the woman said, pointing to Cheney. "I like him better but hate you three goobers."

"So what are you politicians going to do about trial lawyers bankrupting everyone?" one man asked.

"You shouldn't be angry at trial lawyers," Reid said. "They sue everyone to make a better America. And, no one is more charitable than them."

"That's true," Bush stated. "They sure give the Democrats a lot of money, and you couldn't find a bigger group of pathetic losers in need of charity than the Democrats."

"I shot a trial lawyer in the face with my shotgun," Cheney said, "and he was a friend of mine. Think of what I'll do to the rest of them!"

"You're the only one here who seems to know what he's doing," the man said to Cheney.

"I hate quails," another person said. "Are any of you going to do something about them?"

"I kill quails with my shotgun," Cheney answered.

Bush hit Cheney in the shoulder. "Dick! You and your shotgun better stop hogging all the popularity."

"People, don't just follow the gun-wielding maniac," Pelosi told the crowd. "We Democrats care about you." The skin on her face stretched back again.

"Why is she baring her teeth like that?" one guy asked. "Is she going to eat us?"

"That's her smiling," Bush said. He then thought for a moment. "For five bucks, you can hit her in the face with a pie."

"I did not agree to any--" Pelosi was shut up when a pie struck her in the face.

* * * *

"The new polls are in!" Bush exclaimed with glee. "The carnival worked! I'm up one point!"

"That could just be a statistically insignificant fluctuation in the polls," Laura Bush said.

"Well, this is for real." Bush held up a wad of cash. "I made this money letting people hit Nancy Pelosi in the face with a pie. Plus, I think I learned something: popularity doesn't matter when you have money and power."

"Well, I'm quite popular," Laura said. "The only people who don't like me are the craziest moonbats. Maybe I can bake them cookies."

"You can't ever get them to like you; they even hate themselves."

A horn honked outside the White House. "Hey! Bush!"

President Bush stuck his head out the window. "What?"

"I'm ambivalent about you!" The man sped off down the street.

"Yes!"

Read More...

President Bush read the jokes off the teleprompter and enjoyed the laughter from the audience at the White House Correspondence Dinner, but the strange echo he kept hearing was starting to disturb him. The echo wasn't even correctly repeating what he was saying. Bush then turned to see another man was there who looked and sounded just like him.

"Aieeee! A pod person!" Bush shouted as he pulled out a shotgun.

Laura ran over and grabbed Bush. "That's Steve Bridges and he's part of the act." Laura looked to the audience. "That's my wacky husband!"

Everyone laughed, and Laura led Bush back to his seat while Stephen Colbert walked to the podium.

"This guy is funny!" Bush told Laura, "I saw him on TV, and I laughed really hard at all the jokes I understood."

Stephen Colbert cleared his throat and started his routine. "President Bush is an evil man. He supports torture. No one likes him. He has broken many laws." Colbert was quiet for a few seconds. "That was the punch line."

Someone coughed.

"This isn't funny!" Bush whispered to Laura. "Something is wrong with him! Maybe he'll be funnier if I throw a shoe at him."

"He has gotten us into a war where many have died," Colbert continued. "He is not smart, and--" A shoe hit Colbert in the head. "Ow!"

"Ha! That was funny!" Bush shouted. He then thought for a moment. "Can someone hand me back my shoe?"

* * * *

Bush poured himself a cup of coffee. "That stupid dinner had me up past my bedtime. Why can't I delay running the country until later?" He then saw Tony Snow in the hallway. "Wow! I know you from FOX News! What are you doing here?"

"Um... you hired me as your new press secretary, remember?"

"Yeah, we needed to replace tubby. No why we needed to replace him?"

"Because he was..." Tony shrugged his shoulders. "...tubby?"

"That's right! You're a quick one, Snowman."

Tony took out a newspaper. "Anyway, I thought you might want to see this. In reaction to Stephen Colbert's performance, a number of left-wing nuts have erected shrines in his honor and formed religions around him."

Bush furrowed his brow. "They thought he was funny?"

"They don't go as far to say that, but they think he was daring to speak the truth or some crap."

"But he wasn't funny!" Bush exclaimed. "Don't these moonbats understand funny?"

"Studies show they are quite humorless."

"The only funny part was when I hit him with my shoe," Bush said. He then laughed. "Man, that was funny. He was all like, 'Ow! Where did that shoe come from?' Did you see that, Snowman?"

Tony chuckled. "Yes, that was funny. It was also funny when he picked up your shoe and ran off and then you started cursing at him."

Bush looked down to see one of his feet was shoeless. "He still has my shoe! That unfunny shoe-stealer!" Bush grabbed a shotgun that was leaning against a table. "I'm getting my shoe back!"

"You sure keep a lot of shotguns around."

"That's because I'm a smart president! Now, come on; time to get your hands dirty, Snowman!" Bush began to awkwardly march off, but Condoleezza Rice stopped him.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to go get my shoe back from that unfunny Stephen Colbert!" Bush shouted. "We'll see who is funny when I murder him dead!"

"But Iran has threatened that, if anyone attacks Stephen Colbert, they will retaliate against Israel!" Condi exclaimed.

"So?" Bush answered. "It's not like I have a summer home there."

"Yes, but if Israel is attacked, they vow to retaliate against Saudi Arabia. And, if Saudi Arabia is attacked, the vow to retaliate against..." Condi took out a long sheet of paper. "Well, to cut to the chase, eventually someone will retaliate against Namibia, who vows to attack us."

"Oh no! We'll all die!" Bush exclaimed. "I can't believe that Iran is directly indirectly threatening us like that, but I can't just walk around with one shoe! The international community will never respect me!"

"We could just go buy some new shoes," Tony suggested.

"Maybe you come from a world where you can just go to some magical store and get shoes," Bush said, "but, here in the world of politics, if a comedian steals your shoe, you have to get it back using a shotgun or you shall remain shoeless forever!"

"Haven't you ever wondered why, to this day, Jimmy Carter walks around shoeless?" Condi asked Tony.

"I guess there's a lot to politics I still have to learn."

"There's a lot about everything I have to learn," Bush said. He looked to Condi. "Put out the announcement that, if America is attacked, we will retaliate against Iran!"

* * * *

The crazy Iranian president ran to the crazy Iranian mullahs. "America threatens to destroy us if attacked!"

The crazy Iranian mullahs looked over a long sheet of paper. "That means if we attack Israel in retaliation for an attack on Stephen Colbert, we will surely die... eventually. Tell Colbert we will no longer defend him."

The crazy Iranian president picked up the phone and dialed Stephen Colbert. "We will no longer retaliate against Israel if you are attacked."

"You will no longer what? �And who is this?"

* * * *

Bush stood outside the Comedy Central studios and chambered a round into his shotgun. "It's time to get my shoe back, Snowman!"

A number of hooded figures approached Bush and Tony. "We are of the Church of Colbert, the one who brings truth to power, and we will die in defense of him."

"Okay." Bush fired his shotgun and killed all the liberals.

"Do you feel any remorse for that?" Tony asked.

Bush chambered another round. "It should be pretty obvious at this point in my presidency that I don't feel any remorse for anything."

* * * *

The doorbell rang at the White House. Laura put down her duster to answer it.

"Hi," said a man standing at the doorstep holding a box. "We had a number of items left in Lost & Found after the White House Correspondence Dinner. One's a shoe that we think might belong to President Bush."

Laura picked up the shoe. "Yes, he was looking for this."

"We also have four shotguns."

Laura rolled her eyes. "Yeah, he really needs those."

"It's time for you to get to work, Snowman. By the way, that's your new nickname," President Bush told Tony Snow. "Nobody likes me anymore, but you have to spin things so everybody thinks I'm the super-coolest person ever. And you have to convince all the press to only write nice things about me. So you do a good job or you'll end up like Scott McClellan - fat!"

"I'll do what I can," Tony answered, "but you try and stay out of trouble. I don't want this job to be any harder than it already is."

"Hey, trouble is my middle name!" Bush answered and then thought for a moment. "Wait, my middle name starts with a 'w'. What is it? Wilhelm?"

"Just focus on not screwing anything up and I'll handle the press," Tony assured him. He then headed out to the press room where all the reporters were waiting.

"So, are you the new White House Press Secretary?" a reporter asked.

"First off," Tony stated, "I'm already a hundred times the journalist of all you hacks added together, so, instead of answering your moronic queries, I'm just going to state everything you need to know and you'll jot it all down and report that. Are we clear?"

"Mr. Snow, we need--" a reporter started to say, but then screamed in pain as he fell to the ground.

"Now, one thing you need to know," Tony said, "is that I can now shock you through your press passes. This wasn't my idea; it was done by Homeland Security. Now, on to politics. While there are many troubles in Iraq, it's going much better than you shills report. Progress is being made daily. With Iran, many options are being looked at, but nothing has been decided on. Finally, the Democrats are all morons and you waste time reporting on anything they do or say. I think that covers everything."

"What about how Karl Rove will be--" A horde of screaming demons crashed through the ceiling, grabbed the reporter, and flew off.

"It should be mentioned," Tony said, "that questions about Karl Rove will cause screeching demons to come after you. That's out of my hands."

"And there are also reports that secret police are taking away anyone who questions the White House," a reporter stated. "What is your reaction?"

Some men in black ran into the room, grabbed the reporter, and dragged her away.

"Next question," Tony said in a bored voice.

"War murder and oil because Bush bad!" Helen Thomas cackled.

Tony Snow made a motion to some men in white in the back of the room. They came forward and gently walked Helen Thomas out of the press room.

"Are they taking her to a nursing home?" a reporter asked.

"That or they're going to tie her up and leave her in an abandoned warehouse," Tony answered. "Either way, I don't care."

A truck crashed through the side of the room. "Trouble, Tony!" Bush yelled as he got out of the driver seat. "I may have just been involved in an armed robbery and this truck may or may nor be stolen. Anyway, spin it all to make it sound good."

"I thought we agreed you'd avoid misadventures until your polls are up!" Tony said.

Bush opened the back of the truck. "I tried; really, I did." A bunch of Mexicans came out the back.

"Are you smuggling Mexicans across the border?" Tony asked.

"The less you know, the better." Bush started dousing the truck in gasoline. "I'm going to take care of the evidence; you continue with your press conference."

"I want you all to ignore the scene over there and focus on me," Tony commanded the press. "I'm going to use this blackboard behind me to give you all a lecture on good journalism... since you guys really need it. Let's get started."

"I don't need to be lectured about journalism from someone from FOX News!" Daivd Gregory shouted. "I'm David Gregory! I--" David Gregory burst into flames.

"By the way," Tony said, "the electrified press passes have a few kinks in them and sometimes explode. Then again, maybe that's more of a feature than a bug."

Panicked, Gregory ran into the truck setting it on fire.

"Since this room is starting to burn down," one reporter said, "can we skip the lecture?"

"That might be smart. Oh, and I should tell you that, as part of the deal of the White House hiring me, FOX is filming this all for a reality show. So, if in the future, you find the press room filled with snakes or you get locked in an underground bunker, I warned you."

The reporters fled the room.

"Good job for your first day," Bush said. "So, what now?"

Tony looked at the burning truck. "I think I'm going to a bar."

"There's a list of nearest bars in your 'Welcome to the White House Staff' basket." Bush looked around the room which was all quickly catching fire. "This isn't going to burn itself out, is it?"

"Numerous retired generals have called for your resignation," a reporter said to Donald Rumsfeld. "How do you respond to this?"

"Why would I respond to the opinions of a couple retired generals?" Rumsfeld demanded angrily. He then said in a mocking voice, "'Ooh! I'm too old for war so I'm going to retire!' Back in my day, generals stayed on until they died in battle. I have no use for the words of those who wimped out."

"So, have you put any thought towards resigning?" asked another reporter.

"Your questions annoy me!" Rumsfeld shouted. "I have decided to kill you all violently! Rarr!"

* * * *

"Blood does not come out!" President Bush whined. "That's it. I'm not buying you new suits every time the reporters annoy you."

"Rarr!" Rumsfeld yelled and punched a hole in the wall.

"Fine. We'll pay for a new suit. Calm down."

"And more cruise missiles!"

"Okay. That too."

Rumsfeld stormed off just as Scott McClellan came running toward Bush. "What's the matter, fatty fat fat?" Bush asked.

"The key to my office doesn't seem to work anymore." Scott led Bush to a door and was unable to get the key to fit.

"Are you sure that's your office?" Bush said. "It doesn't have your name on it."

Scott looked at the door. "Where did my nameplate go?"

"Let's not worry on little things like that." Bush held up a piece of paper and a pen. "Now sign this."

"What is it?"

"It's... uh... a bill. It needs a signature."

"But you're the one who is supposed to sign bills."

"Then it's a... uh... petition." Bush shoved the pen at Scott. "Now, sign!"

"How could this be a petition? There's only one line for a signature." Scott grabbed the document. "Hey! This is a letter of resignation! You're trying to get rid of me!"

"That's just crazy," Bush said. "You're a crazy person, and there is no reasoning with you. I have to go talk to job applicants."

* * * *

"I sure you all have a lot of questions about Rumsfeld and Iran," Scott told the White House Press Corps, "so let's get started."

"Why announce your resignation now?" a reporter asked. "Is it because you finally realized your tubby and no one likes you?"

Scott looked confused. "I'm not announcing my resignation."

"You say you're leaving to spend more time with your family," said another reporter, "but isn't it true your family doesn't like you either?"

"No. I need this job to have money to feed my family," Scott said with worry.

To the side, Bush appeared with Tony Snow. Bush pointed at Scott. "That's where you'll stand." He then pointed to the press. "Those are the morons you'll have to placate."

"Are you replacing me?" Scott shouted.

"Do I have to deal with that tubby goober there with this job?" Tony asked.

"No," Bush answered, "Just shove him out of the way."

Tony walked over and knocked Scott to the ground.

"Ow!" Scott yelled. "You're going to get a loyalty problem with stuff like this."

"So what would I do with these people?" Tony asked Bush as he looked at the press. "They look dumb."

"Just distract them with shiny things and use big words to confuse them. I don't know any big words, so you'll have to get those from other people."

"Why are you considering someone from FOX News for the position of White House Press Secretary?" a reporter asked.

"You try and answer that for me," Bush told Tony.

"FOX News is a great pool of talent," Tony said to the press. "The station was founded when polls revealed that the American people prefer reporters and anchors who aren't full of crap."

"Good answer," Bush said.

"I never got praise," Scott whined, still lying on the ground.

"If you're getting someone from FOX News, why wasn't I considered?" FOX News reporter Melinda Hawkish asked angrily.

"Because you're mean!" Bush yelled.

"I'm surprised you didn't consider an illegal immigrant as a cheaper alternative," she shot back.

"Who says I didn't!"

"What's this stack of bricks for?" Tony asked Bush.

"If a question is too dumb, just throw one of those at a reporter's head. Go ahead and try it."

Tony chucked a brick at the press. "Ow! My cranium!" one shouted.

"What do I do if I run out of bricks?"

Bush opened a panel on the podium revealing a hidden button. "Just press this and a heavy narcotic is released into the press which will cause them all to be very happy and easy to manipulate."

"You never showed me that secret button!" Scott said.

"Quiet, tubby; you've talked enough." Bush turned to Tony. "So, if you take the job, I'll throw in a blank signed pardon. You can use it to get anyone off of anything... no matter how heinous the crime."

"I can't believe you're replacing me," Scott grumbled. "Will you at least help me get a new job?"

"I will use the full power of my presidency to get you a new occupation," Bush assured him.

* * * *

"Can I get fries with that?"

Scott groaned. "No. This is Taco Bell."

"What can I get?"

Scott adjusted his paper hat. "Tacos."

"Yet another grand day of me being in charge of the world," President Bush said as he looked out the window of the White House. He then saw a new building next to his labeled "El Casa Blanca."

"What the--" Bush exclaimed as he quickly headed out of the White House to check it out. "That better be a new Mexican eatery!"

Bush went over and knocked on the door. A Mexican answered. "Who are you?"

"I'm the President of the United States, and you better explain yourself!"

"I'm Pedro, and I'm now the President! People voted for Pedro, so now I'm President and this is the new White House!" A number of Mexicans behind him yelled, "Yeah!"

"What?!" Bush exclaimed as he entered the building. "You can't be President! I'm President! You're breaking the law!"

"We're illegal immigrants, and your laws don't mean nothing to us, gringo!"

"Yeah!" the other Mexicans yelled.

"You don't treat us right," Pedro continued, "so we'll take what we want!"

"Yeah!" the other Mexicans yelled.

"But I've capitulated on this issue!" Bush whined. "If I capitulate anymore, I'll have to reregister as a Democrat!"

"Too bad! We want more! We want more respect and free money and beer and an XBox!"

"XBox 360!" another Mexican corrected Pedro.

"Yeah!" the other Mexicans yelled.

"An XBox 360!" Bush shouted. "That's completely unreasonable!"

"Well, you better all do as we say," Pedro answered, "or who will pick your beans?"

"Yeah!" the other Mexicans yelled.

"Well, obviously not you people," Bush said, "because you're all just sitting around here watching Telemundo and drinking beer."

"Shut up!" Pedro yelled. "And get out of our White House!"

"Yeah!" the other Mexicans yelled.

"Fine." Bush turned to leave, but he couldn't open the door.

"That door keeps getting stuck," Pedro said. "You really have to give it a good pull."

"Yeah!" the other Mexicans yelled.

Bush gave the other Mexicans an odd look.

"They don't speak English," Pedro explained. "I'm just told them to shout 'Yeah' to anything I say when talking to gringos."

"Yeah!" the other Mexicans yelled.

"Well, I don't care how much 'Si' men you have, there is only room enough for..." Bush started laughing. "Oh man; did you hear what I just said?"

Pedro laughed too. "That was funny, man."

"Anyway, there's only room enough for one President of the United States in this town!" Bush then stormed off.

"When we see you again," Pedro shouted, "you better have an X-Box for us!"

* * * *

"We have too many Mexicans now, and we have to do something about it," Bush stated. "Capitulation didn't work, so we need another solution."

"More capitulation?" White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan suggested.

"You're only allowed to take notes, tubby!" Bush shouted. "No talking! Anyone else?"

"We have to make it clear to the American people that we hate Latinos," Vice President Cheney said.

"But we don't hate Latinos," Bush answered. "We just don't like having illegal immigration."

"But I do hate Latinos!" Cheney turned to Attorney General Alberto Gonzales. "I hate you!"

"Go @#$% yourself!" Alberto replied.

"You stole my catch phrase, you thieving bandito!" Cheney leapt across the table at Alberto.

"Just remember how Texas was founded," Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld suggested. "It was founded by shooting Mexicans. We need to shoot Mexicans!"

"We're not shooting Mexicans!" Bush answered. He then turned to Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice. "You're the diplomat; what do you think we should do?"

Condi didn't hear him, as she was busy listening to a tape and repeating Spanish phrases.

"Fine," Bush said, "I'm calling the Mexican President." Bush picked up the phone and dialed a number.

"Hola! El Presidente Vicente Fox speaking."

"Hey, Vicki, come get your Mexicans!" Bush yelled.

"No! If they want to come to America, who am I to stop them?"

"If you were a better President and fixed the economy, they wouldn't want to leave Mexico."

"Yes, but just letting them leave to reduce unemployment is much easier than fixing the stupid economy."

Bush growled. "You may be better than your predecessor, but you're still a lousy president."

"Whatever. Anyway, I make pottery in my spare time. You want to buy some?"

"No!"

"Come on, Dubya; you used to be cool. Buy some pottery."

"Never!"

* * * *

Vicente Fox stood out on a balcony to address his people. "I have just talked to the American President, and he said that America hates Mexico and Mexicans... and then he insulted my pottery! You all know what to do!"

"Let's move to America!" everyone shouted.

"That will teach him to not buy my pottery!" Vicente laughed to himself.

* * * *

"We used to be called the INS," an older ICE agent explained to a rookie, "but now we're called ICE."

He paused for a moment as they watched thousands of Mexicans run across the border.

He turned back to the rookie. "Anyway, sometimes I still accidentally say INS. Old habits die hard."

* * * *

"Stupid gringo president," Vicente grumbled to himself. "I can send as many Mexicans as I want into America." He walked onto his balcony. "So who is best president?" he called out.

There was no answer. Vicente looked about and saw nothing but a tumbleweed moving through the city.

"Hola? Any Mexicans left?"

An older woman wearing a sun hat and a camera around her neck walked into view. "My name is Doris, and I came here for the tourism but can't find any tour guides or any waiters. Can you give me a tour?"

"Hey, you want to be a Mexican citizen?" Vicente asked hopefully.

"No."

Vicente hung his head. "No one wants to be a Mexican citizen."

* * * *

"The White House is full of Mexicans!" Bush exclaimed as he looked at everyone hanging out in White House drinking tequila and throwing burrito wrappers everywhere. The phone then rang. "This better be about the Mexicans!" Bush answered.

"It is!" Vicente replied. "There's no one left in Mexico for me to be president of! Even the chupacabra is gone!"

"The chupacabra is here!" Bush exclaimed. He then turned to his wife. "Honey, make sure our goats still have blood!"

"Please send me back some of my citizens!" Vicente pleaded.

"I'll try." Bush hung up and looked to the interlopers. "Hey, Mexicans, your president says you have to go home now."

"But we like it here," Pedro answered as he took something out of Bush's living room.

"That's my XBox 360!" Bush yelled.

"Not anymore, gringo," Pedro said as he and his friends left.

"Aww, this has worked out horrible," Bush groaned. "Vicki has no citizens to rule, and I have no XBox 360. We're both miserable."

"This should be a lesson to you," Laura Bush said, taking a break from picking up the burrito wrappers. "When you capitulate on an issue, no one is happy."

"The guys who took my XBox are happy."

"Well... sometimes lessons are complicated."

Bush stood up with a look of resolve. "I'm going to go throw a rock through one of their windows!" He marched off.

Laura sighed and went back to picking up burrito wrappers. "Yeah, that'll solve it."

"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!"

"Since it's your millionth birthday today, I think I'll let you ask a question, Helen," President Bush said at his press conference.

"What were your real reasons for war?" Helen Thomas screeched.

"To be honest," Bush stated, "I once took a look at your horrid visage, you shriveled old hag, and it became burned in my memory. I could neither eat nor sleep because of it, and I decided the only way I could get your corpse-face out of my head was to commit to a large scale war."

"Why did you lie about your reasons for war?" Thomas said as a follow up.

"Because I didn't want to hurt your feelings. Then, I realized you don't have any since your brain long ago faded to dust and your head is probably just full of cobwebs and crumpled up Chinese newspapers."

"Where are my pills?" Thomas demanded.

"I had the Secret Service confiscate them, and I hope you need them to live. Next question!"

Bush turned off the TV and looked to Scott McClellan. "See, that's how you handle a press conference, doughy."

Scott stared. "Yes, sir."

"Now get me a soda, bitch!"

Scott hurried off, and then the phone rang. "Hello, I'm President Bush," President Bush answered.

"Hi, it's Hamid Karzai."

"Who?"

"You know, President of Afghanistan."

Bush thought for a moment. "Oh yeah, I forgot all about that place with Iraq and all. How are things going? Do you need a new fluffy hat?"

"Things are good, President Bush. I just thought I'd check in to make sure American support is still there."

"Anything new going on?"

"No... well, we are thinking of executing a man for converting to Christianity, but nothing too new."

"Yeah, gotta watch those Christians. Nice talking to you." Bush hung up the phone, took a drink of water, and then suddenly sprayed it all over his desk. "Executed for being a Christian!" Bush shouted, "I'm a Christian!" Bush picked up the phone and dialed a number. "Is this the State Department?"

"Yes, sir."

"I hear they are thinking of executing someone in Afghanistan for being a Christian; are you guys doing anything about it?"

"We are familiar with the case about Abdul Rahman, but have decided not to do anything since that's hard and stuff. You know, we really don't like confronting other countries; sometimes that makes them mad."

"You guys are useless!" Bush yelled.

"Pretty much; anyway, we're in the middle of a poker game, so I'll have to talk later." The State Department then hung up.

"I'll have to get someone who can do something," Bush vowed. He then picked up the phone once more. "Operator, get me Buck."

"Buck who?"

"Buck... the Marine!"

* * * *

Buck was resting in his base when he was told he had a phone call. "Hello? ...Yes, this is Buck... Buck the Marine, that is... Am I in Afghanistan now?" Buck looked around. "Well, there's lots of sand and Muslims around, but that seems like all the places I've been lately. Hey, when can I come back to America? ...No, Mr. President, no wars have been won by whining. I'm sorry. What do you want me to do? ...That's awful. Things really aren't accommodating here for Christians. It's quite hard to find a good church. I'll check on this Rahman person... Yes, I can try some diplomacy, but I'll have to look up what that word means first... Yes, I can share the definition with you when I look it up... No, I don't want to buy any ports. Anyway, I'll get to the mission."

* * * *

"Is it true you're a Christian?"

"I am! I follow Jesus Christ!" Rahman answered.

"What's wrong with Islam?" the inquisitor asked. "Don't you like the �not getting executed� part of being a Muslim?"

"There's more to religion than not getting executed!" Rahman declared. "If Islam is so great, you wouldn't have to threaten people with death!"

"He continues to blaspheme Islam!" the inquisitor shouted. "We'll see how much you like your precious Jesus when you're chopped to little pieces!"

"Ain't no chopping going on!" Buck declared as he entered the room. "If you want to kill a Christian, then you try and kill me!"

"But you weren't first a Muslim!" the inquisitor stated.

Buck looked at Rahman suspiciously. "Why were you a Muslim?"

"I never got a Bible when I was younger, but now I have one," Rahman said, and held up his Bible.

"That looks like a Koran," Buck remarked.

"That's because it's in Arabic, fool!" the inquisitor said.

Buck looked confused. "You can put Bibles in Arabic now?"

"Enough of this!" the inquisitor shouted. "It is obvious that Rahman is an unapologetic Christian and has rejected the great prophet Mohammed! He must die!"

"You wait a second here," Buck declared. "I kill for'ners, and executing people for their religion is pretty foreign. You don't want to cross me!"

"And what will you do, infidel?"

* * * *

"A number of Afghans were beaten with an Arabic Bible by an unnamed Marine named Buck," said the news anchor. "The State Department says they don't plan on doing anything other than releasing a statement saying they don't plan on doing anything. We're still waiting for that statement."

Bush turned from the TV to look at Laura. "With all the problems in the world, how does one decide where to start?"

Laura patted Bush on the head. "I always start with dusting the cabinets."

"What's Senator Feingold up to?" President Bush asked Condoleezza Rice.

"He asking the Senate to censure you."

"Oh no!" Bush exclaimed as he covered his groin.

Condi rolled her eyes. "Do you know what 'censure' means?"

Bush was silent for a moment. "Well, do you?"

"What censure means is that the Senate will publicly berate you." Bush stared at Condi blankly. "Say you are bad, that is," Condi added.

"What I do bad?" Bush asked. "Did I say 'nuclear' wrong again?"

"You always say it wrong, but the censure is because Feingold says your wiretapping of Al Qaeda suspects is illegal."

Bush snapped a pencil in anger. "He's illegal! Who elects these whiny losers that are the Democrats anyway? I can't imagine any self-respecting man voting for these eunuchs who worry so much about the poor terrorists getting wire-tapped. The men who vote for them must be gay... and I mean really really gay." Bush perked up for a second. "Hey, maybe we could use that as a campaign slogan this year!"

Condi sighed. "Why don't you run it by Karl Rove."

"I need to go to the Senate and stop this," Bush said and started to head out of the White House. He then stopped. "Where does the Senate meet again?"

"The Capitol Building."

"Is that the tall pointy one?"

"That's the Washington Monument."

"Uh... the one with the giant stone man?"

"That's the Lincoln Memorial."

"Then is it the flat, watery one?"

"That's the reflection pool between the Washington Monument and the Lincoln Memorial."

Bush thought for a moment. "It's not the place with the dinosaur bones is it, because those big zombie lizards scare me?"

"You want the big building with the dome, Mr. President."

"Thanks, Condi!" Bush said as he began to leave again. "To the big building with the dome!"

* * * *

"I want you to stop this censuring!" Bush demanded to Senator Frist.

"It doesn't have a chance of passing," Frist said. "I'm trying to force a vote on it to embarrass the Democrats, but they're not letting me."

Bush slapped Frist. "That doesn't sound like someone with Presidential ambitions to me. If you want it, make it happen!"

Frist thought for a moment. "There is one thing I can do..."

Frist marched over to Senator Reid. "I demand a vote on the censure."

"Well, we all need more time to read the language and..."

"You will vote now!" Frist shouted. "I invoke the ancient Senatorial right of Kal-if-tor!"

Reid stood up straight. "You do not dare!"

"I dare!" Frist produced two curved blades and tossed one to Reid. "Whoever�s blood is spilt first, must cede!"

"So be it, fool! Aiaiaiaiai!" Reid shrieked as he charged Frist, swinging his weapon wildly. The blades clashed and sparks flew. They continued clashing for a couple minutes, destroying desks with missed swings as the rest of the Senate chanted, "Kal-if-tor! Kal-if-tor! Kal-if-tor!" Finally, Frist connected with a devastating slice, and Reid fell to the ground, blood spraying everywhere.

"Your power and your vote are mine!" Frist spat down at Reid. He then raised his blade in victory. "The vote on censure will commence!"

"But I need more time to..." Senator Feingold started to say, but was silenced when Frist punched him in the face.

"Quiet! Kal-if-tor says we vote now!"

"If we vote for censure, we could look bad on national security," the Democrats whispered among themselves.

Soon, the vote was over. "One votes yea; ninety-nine vote nay," Frist announced, "Censure is defeated!"

"I demand vengeance!" Bush shouted, pointing at Feingold. "He is a dingus, and he must pay for his dingussery!"

"Then I propose that Feingold will be beaten with sticks for the high crime of being a dingus," Frist told the Senate. He then raised his blade in the air again. "We vote now!"

"If we don't vote to have Feingold beaten with sticks, we could look bad on national security," the Democrats whispered among themselves.

Soon, the vote was over. "Ninety-nine vote yea; one votes nay," Frist announced, "Feingold will be beaten with sticks!"

The Senators all grabbed their beating sticks and descended upon the shrieking and crying Feingold and began to pummel him. Bush found a table leg and tried to join, but Frist stopped him. "Haven't you read the Constitution?" Frist asked.

"I tried once, but it was boring."

"Only Senators may join in a Senatorial stick beating. You are allowed to stand back and cheer us on, though."

"Okay." Bush started jumping and yelling, "Kill! Kill! Kill!" He then paused for a moment. "I wonder why my poll numbers aren't higher? I sure like me!"

President Bush's session of drumming his desk and singing "I am the President!" was interrupted by the intercom.

"Mr. President, a Cesar Millan is here to see you."

Bush shot out of his chair. "Ooh! The Dog Whisperer got my fan letter! Send him in!"

Cesar Millan came in the Oval Office. Bush immediately noticed the camera crew following him. "Wow! Am I going to be on T.V.?"

"That is not important," Cesar said, "What are important are the dog and the dog owner. I hear we are dealing with an unusually aggressive dog?"

"He's angry," Bush said, and then thought for a moment. "Very angry, actually. Here, look at this." Bush handed Cesar the Guinness Book of World Records.

"The World's Angriest Dog: Chomps," Cesar read aloud and then looked back to Bush. "I like to think that all dogs can be rehabilitated, but this should be a challenge. With troubled dogs, the real problem comes from the owner. That's why I focus most on training people."

"Yeah, well, just make sure your life insurance is updated. Chomps is so bad that we've had to discontinue political relations with Burma because the ambassador is too scared to come to the White House in case Chomps is in here. I would really appreciate your help on this."

"And I am glad to give it," Cesar answered. "When I was a boy in Mexico, I dreamed of one day being the greatest dog trainer in the world, so great that even the President of the United States would call upon me."

"Well, cool, but don't mention the �being from Mexico� too much; I have enough people getting angry with me about illegal immigrants."

"But I'm here legally."

Bush looked confused. "Mexicans can do that?"

"Yipe! Yipe! Yipe!" Barney said as the little Scotty dog ran into the room.

"That dog is unruly too," Bush said, "but he's small enough that I can just kick him across the room if he annoys me."

"Shh!" Cesar said to Barney as he pushed his fingers into the side of the dog's neck. Barney immediately went to the ground and lay there quietly.

"That's amazing!" Bush shouted. "Still, that's not as fun as kicking him."

"The reason Barney doesn't listen to you," Cesar explained, "is that he doesn't see you as a leader."

Bush hung his head. "No one does."

* * * *

"What are you doing in my house?" Donald Rumsfeld demanded.

"I'm Cesar Millan, the Dog Whisperer, and I rehabilitate dogs and train people."

"You whisper to dogs?"

"Uh... no. The Dog Whisperer is just a title the National Geographic Channel came up with... you know, like that movie with Robert Redford, The Horse Whisperer."

"Never saw it."

"Neither have I. Anyway, I hear you have a rottweiler with an aggression problem."

Rumsfeld took a swig from his whiskey flask. "A what problem?"

"I hear he bites people."

"Yeah, he bites people... and objects... and air and water."

"How did you come to own Chomps?"

Rumsfeld thought for a moment. "Well, about two and a half years ago, he mauled Michael Moore for the first time. Later, after an interdimensional crisis was handled, he followed me around. Since he only attacks people and things I don't like or care about, I decided not to beat him until he left me alone." Rumsfeld pointed to a large stick leaning against a wall. "That's the original stick I thought of beating him with. If he's ever noisy, I shake it at him."

"So Chomps has always shown aggression?"

"He likes biting people and destroying things."

"And what do you do when Chomps shows aggression?"

"I either ignore him or laugh, depending on the situation."

"But you don't take control of the situation?"

Rumsfeld took another swig of whiskey. "Who am I tell him what to do? He never tells me what to do."

"Here is the problem," Cesar explained. "You can't control Chomps because Chomps does not see you as a pack leader; he just sees you as a roommate."

Rumsfeld shrugged. "So? He pays half the mortgage. Every so often, he comes home with a wallet. I don't care how he gets them as long as they have cash inside."

"That is not an attitude that Chomps needs to keep him mentally balanced."

"And I should care because..."

Cesar was silent for a second. "May I meet Chomps?"

Chomps burst through the wall behind them, snarling and baring his teeth. Rumsfeld took another drink of whiskey. "Smile and say, 'Hi!'"

* * * *

"The first thing I like to do with any dog is go on a walk," Cesar said, "This allows me to show to the dog I'm the pack leader and let him feel my calm, assertive energy."

Rumsfeld snorted. "Chomps doesn't like leashes."

"Then what you have to do is..."

Chomps quickly grabbed the leash from Cesar and swallowed it. Cesar looked a while at Chomps. "Okay, this could be a problem."

* * * *

"For certain dogs, I have to use creative measures," Cesar told the cameras. "For Chomps, to make a leash, I needed to use a chain from a tow truck to make him a leash he can't immediately chew through." Chomps tried to bite the leash, but Cesar shouted, "Eh!" as he tugged on the chain.

"You're asking for it," Rumsfeld laughed.

"By keeping the leash - well chain - high on his neck, I can keep him facing forward. Now, he can only be angry at things in front of him... or in the sky. Right now, it looks like he's being agitated by that one cloud up there."

Chomps began to growl, but Cesar yelled, "Shh!" as he jerked on the chain. Chomps then quieted and stared at Cesar. "You can see the immediate change in behavior, because he now considers me the pack leader and is trusting my guidance."

"I think he's just confused why you don't seem to care for you own life," Rumsfeld commented.

While Cesar was distracted for a second listening to Rumsfeld, Chomps grabbed a fire hydrant, ripped it out of the ground, and then snapped wildly at the water that shot out.

"Maybe it's time we bring him home."

* * * *

"As you can see," Cesar told the cameras as Chomps sat beside him, shaking but not making a sound, "I have gotten Chomps to contain his anger for the moment. Now, I have to give him something to release this poison on. In front of him, I'll now unveil a scale model of downtown Paris."

Cesar pulled the sheet off, and Chomps immediately leapt on the model and started ripping it apart with his teeth.

"Now, having gotten rid of his anger, he will have a chance to be calm and submissive."

The model destroyed, Chomps now growled and snapped at everything in sight.

"Uh... I guess he has more anger than I thought. Now is the time to be calm and assertive to take control." Cesar looked to Rumsfeld. "Donald, see if you can make Chomps respond by being calm and assertive."

"QUIET NOW OR I'LL RIP YOUR SPINE OUT AND BEAT YOU WITH IT! RARR!" Rumsfeld screamed at the dog.

Chomps kept snarling.

"Okay, Donald, that was assertive, but it wasn't calm."

"Shut up, dogman, or I'll rip out your spine and beat you with it! Rarr!"

Chomps leapt out a window, and screams could be heard outside. "Don't eat anymore children!" Rumsfeld yelled outside. "I hate dealing with the weepy moms of dumb kids!"

* * * *

Bush looked up from his desk. "Hey, Dog Whisperer, how did things go?"

Cesar shook his head. "I hate to ever say this, but he needs to be put down."

"We need to kill Chomps?"

"No, you don't understand," Cesar explained. "Most of my work is training people, and Donald Rumsfeld is untrainable. He causes dogs and anything else around him to become more violent. Having just spent a couple hours with him, I just want to get home and beat my children for some reason. Donald should not be allowed near any living creatures or the support structures of buildings. He needs to be put down."

"Aww," Bush groaned, "everyone is always telling me to either fire Rumsfeld or euthanize him." Bush perked up a bit. "When will this episode air?"

"I don't think this training attempt will be informative to the viewers."

Bush put his head on his desk and sulked. "I'm never going to get on T.V."

"There's nothing better than visiting a high school," President Bush said to himself as he entered the high school. "Teenagers are the best kind of people out there; angels, every one of them." The high school gym seemed dark and empty. "Where is everybody?"

The lights turned on, and the entire school was seated in the stands. Ahead of Bush was the principal dressed as a judge behind a podium. "We're conducting a mock trail for your war crimes!"

"What?!" Bush exclaimed. "This is stupid. Agent Smith, harm everyone involved with this!"

"Your Secret Service Agent can't help you," the principal said. "We mock killed him and mock captured you."

"It's true," Agent Smith said, a sign reading "Dead" taped to his shirt, "I'm mock dead. Can I go get a sandwich?"

"Fine," Bush groaned.

"Take your seat of shame!" the principal ordered Bush.

Bush walked over and took a seat next to the principal. "Back in my days, if the President visited, we gave him something better to sit on than a metal folding chair."

"Quiet, war criminal!" the principal shouted as he banged his gavel "Time for your trial to begin!"

"Man, now I have a trial and I don't even have my lucky cowboy hat with me."

A student walked up to Bush. "I'm Finkelstein; I have the honor of being your defense attorney."

Bush looked the kid over. "You look like a nerd; I want someone else."

"But I worked so hard on your defense! And everyone else doesn't like you or doesn't care!"

"Fine; I guess a nerd might make a good lawyer."

A long-haired teacher walked up to Bush. "I'm this school's history teacher and I'm going to be the prosecution. You're going to mock pay for all your real evil!"

Bush looked at Finkelstein. "You seem smarter than that hippy, at least."

"Now you will answer for your crimes!" the history teacher said. "So, Mr. Bush, after stealing your presidency, isn't it true you started an illegal war?"

Bush was shocked. "How did you find out about my secret attack on Lithuania?"

"I'm talking about Iraq."

"Oh, that's not an illegal war," Bush scoffed. "The only people who think that war is illegal are morons who are stupid. If it was so illegal, then how come I did it? Answer that one, hippy."

"You didn't get U.N. authorization!"

Bush chuckled. "Why would I need their permission? They're just a Jew-hating puppet organization we use when we feel like it... and we didn't this time. Now that we have John Bolton to kick them around, we might use them more." Bush leaned towards the history teacher and whispered. "I heard his mustache can deflect bullets."

"And how do you justify the U.S. killing civilians?"

Bush looked confused. "You mean the nice civilians, or the civilians who shoot at us and try to blow up each other?"

"And what about the troops using white phosphorus?"

"I don't know anything about that, but, even if it's true, white phosphorous is completely harmless." Bush searched his pockets and found a metal container. "I just happen to have some with me, and you'll see that..."

When the canister opened, the phosphorous flew into the history teacher�s face. "Aiee! My face! My unwashed face!"

Bush looked at the instructions on the canister. "Whoops! It says, 'Do not apply to face.' Other than that, though, this stuff is harmless."

"You just committed another war crime against our history teacher!" the principal yelled.

"Bah; that was just plain ol' assault."

Finkelstein now approached Bush. "Didn't you start the war in Iraq to protect America?"

"Bush good," Bush said. "Bush help good people. Bush smash bad men."

"Why are you talking like that?" Finkelstein whispered to Bush.

"I'm trying to make my language accessible to our nation's youths."

"Uh... teenagers are able to speak basic English."

Bush considered that for a moment. "I thought this was a public school."

"Enough!" shouted the principal. "I now call our special witness, human geography teacher Jay Bennish!"

Bennish ran into the room. "You may have thought that Nazi youth�s tactics to destroy me by letting people hear what I say would have worked, but I'm still here!" He then pointed at Bush and looked to the students around him. "Have you all seen what he does? He uses words and things to influence you... just like Hitler!"

"I think I'll respond to this one, nerd friend," Bush told Finkelstein as he stood up. He then walked over, knocked Bennish to the ground, and started punching him.

The principal banged his gavel. "The President can't punch a teacher!" He held up a large book. "That goes against NEA guidelines."

"Thank you," Bush said as he took the book. He then started whapping Bennish with it while saying, "Don't be stupid! Don't be stupid! And stop whimpering; this is for your own good!"

"This must end!" the principal ordered, banging his gavel again.

Bush checked his watch. "Yeah, I have a fundraiser to go to." He looked to the principal. "Go ahead and give me a verdict." Bush then pulled out his .45 revolver, cocked it, and put it to the principal's head. "And make it a favorable one."

"I find President Bush not guilty on account of him having a gun to my head," the principal said nervously.

Bush put away his gun. "Good enough." He then looked at the students. "High school is not a time for foolishness like this. This is a time to learn math and grammarness and play sports, or, alternatively, to flunk out and ruin your life. It is not the time to learn to be a political retard; that's what college is for. You students need to demand more from your teachers."

"Does this mean we have to go back to class now?" one student moaned.

"By Presidential decree, today is a half-day!" Bush declared.

"President Bush! President Bush!" all the students chanted as they ran out of the gym.

Bush turned to Finkelstein. "You did a good job. If you want a political internship one day, I'll see if some congressman doesn't mind hiring nerds."

"Thanks, President Bush!"

Agent Smith entered the gym. "I heard a commotion here, so I thought I'd check it out when I finished my sandwich." He looked around. "Well, I finished my sandwich; what happened?"

"You're not very good at this, you know," Bush told him.

He shrugged his shoulders. "So what? Secret Service Agents have a great union. So, are you going to help me find my gun now?"

Bush sighed. "Fine, but try not to lose it again today."

Bush set a pencil on top of his stapler and then tried to karate chop it in two, but it instead flew across the room. "One day I'll master my kung fu and smite my enemies... especially those at the New York Times!"

The hooded figure of Karl Rove emerged from the shadows. "Our plan with the ports is going as foreseen."

"There's a plan?" Bush asked, "So far nothing seems to be happening except everybody hating me."

"All of this is predicted by The Book of Punditry," Rove intoned as he held up a large book.

"Really? Let me see that..." Bush reached for the book, but Rove then faded back into the shadows as he laughed evilly. "I really should listen to Laura about worrying more about Rover eating my soul," Bush grumbled. He then stood up. "Well, if people are concerned about port security, I'll show initiative and check out the ports myself to make sure this UAE deal won't harm America."

Bush stormed out of his office. "Don't forget your mittens!" Laura called out to him.

But it was too late.

* * * *

"Hey, President Bush is in the hizouse!"

"This is a port, not a house, moron," yelled a worker.

"Whatever," Bush said as he looked around the port. Then he spotted someone. "Ha! An Arab!" Bush declared as he approached a worker. "I knew you guys were going to try to sneak in here!"

"I'm a Mexican, you stupid gringo."

"Well... uh... then where's your green card?"

"Where's yours?"

"I don't need no green card." Bush thumped his chest. "I'm the President of the United States."

"Prove it."

Bush searched his pockets. "Man, I don't where my Presidential ID card is! I hope it's not stolen, or someone could be out there pretending to be me and pardoning everybody."

The Mexican stared at Bush for a moment. "Hey! I recognize you now! You're that American President who keeps bothering me."

Bush brightened up. "And you're my old friend, The Mexican!"

The Mexican pulled out a switchblade. "I never did get to cut you!"

Bush squealed as he ran away from the Mexican, but then he rammed into a group of men. When he looked up at them, he exclaimed, "Hey! You're Muslim terrorists!"

"What?" yelled one angrily, "Why do people always stereotype us?"

Bush stood up. "It's just that..."

"It's just what? Because you see a bunch of Arabs with AK-47s chanting, 'Death to America!' and carrying around odd looking canisters, you just immediately think 'terrorists,' huh?"

"Well..."

"You're a stereotyper, that's what you are!"

Bush hung his head. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to stereotype."

"You better be sorry, or we'll kill you with the rest of the infidel Americans!" The men then walked off as Bush kept trying to apologize.

"Who are you?" called someone from behind Bush.

"I'm President Bush," Bush answered as he turned around, "You may remember me from such State of the Union Addresses as State of the Union Address 2002 and State of the Union Address 2005."

The man checked his clipboard. "We don't have any 'President Bush' listed as being allowed on the port today."

"I'm just here to inspect security. Who are you?"

"I'm the port security guy," he said and then pointed to a label on his shirt. "See, it says here 'Port Security.' That's hand-stitched; very official."

Bush looked at the label. "It is. Still, I just got chased by a Mexican trying to cut me; that doesn't seem very secure."

"Mexicans may do that, so I put up signs," the port security guy said as he pointed to a sign behind Bush that said "Don't Pester the Mexicans." "You have to read the signs," he continued, "I don't put signs up for fun. It is a bit fun, but that's not why I do that."

"Sorry, I'll pay more attention," Bush said, "So what do you do for security?"

The port security guy pointed to two German Shepherds behind him. "These are Ed and Ted. Ed is a drug sniffing dog and Ted is a bomb sniffing dog."

Bush stared at the two. "They look exactly the same; are they twins?"

"I dunno; they never talk about their personal lives."

"How do you tell them apart?"

The port security guy shrugged his shoulders. "I tried putting collars on them with their names, but they keep getting out of them. Still, if one of them barks at a crate, we know it's either drugs or a bomb. And, if they both bark at a crate, then it's a drug bomb... or Milk-Bones." The port security guy thought for a moment. "Actually, every time they bark, it's always Milk-Bones. Far as I can tell, they only know how to find Milk-Bones."

"I once tried a Milk-Bone and I didn't like it," Bush commented. He then noticed a larger German Shepherd barking at a crate. "What's that dog's problem?"

"That's our new dog, Hans," the port security guy said as they walked over to the crate. "He's trained for our new mission now that the UAE will be buying this port."

"He found WMDs?!" Bush exclaimed.

"No, he found Israeli goods. He's trained to sniff for kosher-ness." The port security guy looked to some workers. "Take this crate out and blow it up."

"We're on break!" they answered.

"Union workers," the port security guy grumbled, "they take forever to explode anything."

"Bad anti-Semetic dog! Bad!" Bush shouted at Hans. "Being German, I would have thought you'd be more sensitive to things like that."

Hans lay down and whimpered.

"You made Hans sad," the port security guy said. "You're a mean President."

"I didn't mean to," Bush answered defensively. "Man, port security is hard. Maybe I can just come up with a cool slogan to raise awareness." He thought for a moment. "I got it! 'Port Security is Im-PORT-ant!'"

The port security guy stared at Bush for a few seconds. "So, are you technically a lame duck now or what?"

Bush looked up from his desk to Cheney. "Hey, Dick, is this whole selling the ports to the UAE just some plot to get the public to accept the ports actually being bought by Halliburton?"

"Whittington asked lots of questions," Cheney answered, cleaning his shotgun.

"Uh... I'm going to go back to working on the word jumble in today's paper."

"You do that."

"Why won't you answer my questions?" David Gregory screeched.

"I have answered your questions," White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan grumbled.

"No you haven't! I think I know when questions have been answered!"

"David, I'm getting tired of your attitude," Scott said. "Could you find some other subject to freak out about? It's not like a hunting accident is a matter of national security."

"I'm not freaking out!" Gregory yelled. "And you're fat!"

Scott rolled his eyes. "Okay, I'm going to move onto the next person with questions..."

"Fatty fatty fat fat!"

"You take that back!" Scott screamed as he jumped on Gregory and started punching him. The other reporters soon crowded around and started chanting, "Fight! Fight!"

Bush, done watching the scene, started flipping through the channels. "Hey, Rover!" he called out. "When does ice-boxing come on in the Olympics?"

The hooded figure of Karl Rove emerged from the shadows. "There is no such thing as ice-boxing."

"Why not? It would be fun! People would be sliding around on ice and punching each other; there's no sport more pure than that."

Rove raised he hand and the TV turned off. "We must talk about Cheney."

"What about?"

There was the sound of a shotgun blast, and a portion of the wall was blown away. Through it, they could see Dick Cheney. "I thought I saw a quail," he said.

"Was it a picture of Dan Quayle?" Bush asked.

Cheney punched his way into the room. "I don't remember."

"You have an image problem," Rove intoned.

"Is it anything that can be solved by telling the press to go @#$% themselves?" Cheney asked.

"I don't think that's going to work, Dick," Bush said, "People need to hear you feel remorse like a normal human. Don't you feel bad you shot your friend in the face?"

"Yes, I do," Cheney answered. "I would have had that quail if it weren't for his stupid face getting in the way!"

"But he had a heart attack; aren't you worried about him?"

Cheney laughed. "I've had plenty of heart attacks, and that one was hardly worth mentioning. If Harry plays it up, I'll shoot him in the face with a shotgun again."

Bush shook his head. "Cheney, you have to act nicer."

"Why? Rumsfeld burns down orphanages for fun and has contests on the White House lawn for how far he can kick puppies and you don't complain!"

"Well, we expect that from the Secretary of Defense," Bush replied, "but, if I got my head stuck in the banister again, you have to take over as President. That means people need to like you."

"You must improve your image," Rove uttered, "or all could be doomed. So says the Book of Punditry." Rove then disappeared into the shadows.

Cheney looked to Bush. "I'd tell Rove to go @#$% himself, but I'm afraid he'd eat my soul."

Bush nodded. "I fear that everyday."

* * * *

"I am holding this press conference," Cheney announced, "to say that I feel very sorry for what happened to my friend, Harry Whittington. I so wish this had never happened, and I am losing sleep about this every day." Cheney then held up a tiny cat. "And, look, I'm holding a kitten." Cheney, with much effort, then smiled.

"Are you planning to snap the kitten's neck for fun after this press conference is over?" asked a reporter.

"What I do on my own time is my business!" Cheney screamed. "Go @#$% yourself!"

Bush then nudged Cheney in the side.

"Uh... I mean that I plan to take the kitten home, name him mittens, and then watch him play with a ball of yarn."

"Aww, Cheney is much sweeter than we thought," said one female reporter.

A little kid then walked up to Cheney. "Will you give me a hug, Unkie Cheney?"

* * * *

"So I knocked a kid unconscious by throwing a kitten at his head," Cheney grumbled. "He smelled."

Bush laughed. "I guess that's just our gruff VP." Bush then turned to Condi and whispered, "I keep hearing rumors that I'm planning on forcing Cheney to resign and replace him with you. Do you know if there is any truth to those rumors?"

Condi smacked Bush upside his head.

"Ow," Bush moaned as he rubbed the back of his head, "I always thought people would hit me less as soon as I was President, but the opposite was true. Anyway, I have the pardon for Scott for assaulting that stupid reporter. Anyone want to go fetch him from prison?" Bush looked around the room, but no one moved. "Fine, let's watch the Olympics. I think the biathlon is on." Bush looked to Cheney. "You lose points in that for shooting someone else in the face."

"Sounds gay."

Bush chuckled. "That the Winter Olympics, alright."

"As we all know now," White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan said, "Cheney was involved in a hunting accident and..."

"Why are we being told of this now?" screamed one reporter. "This happened twenty-four hours ago! Why weren't we the first to know?"

"It was decided that..."

"How could we be scooped by some local rag called the Corpus Christi Caller-Times?" shouted another reporter. "We're the White House Press Corp! We're supposed to know everything first!"

"I think you all are over reacting to..."

"Now I find out that even some podunk hospital - a hospital - knew about this before me... ME! David Gregory!" David Gregory screeched. "I want the Vice President impeached for this!"

"Let's all just take a breath and... Eep!"

Scott ducked behind his podium as the press charged him. He could feel the podium trying to be ripped away as one reporter yelled, "Press mad! Press smash!"

Then some loud footsteps were heard. Off to the side stood Dick Cheney who took a swig of a whiskey bottle before tossing it away. He then gripped his pump-action shotgun with both hands and fired into the press, knocking them down.

"I just shot the press, press," Cheney told the press, "and you're the first to know." He chambered another round. "Any questions?"

"Coretta Scott King's funeral was not the appropriate venue to punch Jimmy Carter in the groin," Laura Bush chided the President.

"Well, I'm just getting confused at what's appropriate and what isn't appropriate at a funeral these days," Bush complained as he entered his office.

"I'm going to bake some cookies," Laura said as she left.

Senator Leahy then entered the office. "You wanted to meet with me about your illegal wiretaps?"

"First off, I don't think they were illegal," Bush answered, "but I understand why some people might have concerns about the program. That said, I think it's a little political opportunistic to try and compare spying on terrorists to Nixon's wiretaps and the wiretapping of Martin Luther King."

"We're just letting the American people..."

Leahy was cut off when Bush punched him the gut. "I'm talking now. In my opinion - and in the opinion of many others - the most disturbing thing about this whole affair is that someone leaked information about a program involved with national security. That's treason." Bush then pulled out his peacemaker, cocked it, and placed it against Leahy's head. "You were identified as the leaker, so now I need to execute you by gunshot to the head to set an example to others!"

Leahy just stammered incoherently out of fear, but then the phone rang.

"What a minute while I answer this," Bush told Leahy. "What? ...Oh, not Leahy? ...Well, tell me when you find out who." Bush hung up the phone. He then decocked his revolver and put it away. "Ends up it wasn�t you, so I won't kill you... for now. You can leave now... and change your pants."

Leahy shuffled out of the office, and Bush sat at his desk. "Man, being President is hard," Bush muttered to himself. "Everyone is always yelling at me and trying to undermine me; I should find another job." Bush spotted a pad of paper and a pencil on his desk. "I know! I like cartoons, so I'll be a cartoonist!" Bush thought for a moment and then sketched away. Soon he had a drawing of Mohammed flying a fighter jet that was shooting at Godzilla. "Wow, this has so many layers of political commentary, it's mind-boggling!" Bush exclaimed as he marveled at his own work. "I better fax this to all the newspapers right now!"

* * * *

Laura entered the Oval Office carrying a tray. "I have cookies!"

"Give me! I'm a good President!" Bush yelled as he ran for the cookies.

"What have you been up to today?"

"I drew a political cartoon and some newspapers published it," Bush said between mouthfuls of cookies.

"About what?"

"Uh... I forget. I think it had Mohammed in it."

Laura dropped the tray. "Didn't you hear about what happened with the Danish cartoons about Mohammed?"

"No; I never even heard of the country Daneland."

Laura looked out the window to see a large group of angry Muslim extremists outside the White House gates holding signs saying things like "Death to Blasphemers of Mohammed," "Those Who Portray Islam as Violent Shall Meet Violent Deaths," and "No, We Don't Know What 'Irony' Means."

"Great," Laura groaned, "you're going to get the White House burned down for the first time since the War of 1812!"

"That reminds me," Bush said angrily, "We still need to get the Canadians back for that one." Bush then spotted Alberto Gonzales walking by wearing his usual poncho and Sombrero of Authority. "Hey! Gonzo! Come here!"

"What?"

"You're the Attorney General; you have to help us take care of these crazy Muslims."

"Fine. Whatever."

Laura and Bush followed Alberto outside. Alberto then went to the front gate, opened it, grabbed a crazy Muslim, pulled a pi�ata bat out from under his poncho, and started beating the Muslim silly. "Stop being stupid, stupid!"

A reporter came up to Alberto. "Are you torturing a Muslim?"

"I'm beating a Muslim, you stupid gringo," Alberto answered. "You reporters need to learn the difference between torture and beatings one of these days." Alberto then started hitting the reporter with his pi�ata bat. "Maybe you learn now!"

"Gonzales and his pi�ata bat just aren't going to solve this problem," Laura told Bush. "You need to go on TV and set things straight."

"Can it be the Daily Show?"

"No!"

* * * *

"I'm Tim Russert, and this is Meet the Press."

"You're named after a potato!" Bush exclaimed.

"Uh, not actually... anyway, our guest today is President Bush here to explain his cartoon about Mohammed."

"I don't see why there is outrage," Bush stated. "If you look at the life of Mohammed, I think it's accurate to say that, if Godzilla attacked a city, Mohammed would get in a F-16 and fight the monster."

"But, President Bush," Russert said, "that isn't the issue so much as that many Muslims find any depiction of Mohammed to be disrespectful of their religion."

"Well, I can't keep track of everyone's crazy beliefs! I mean, just look at the leftards on the internet; if I tried to keep track of all the crazy things they believe, I'd end up as crazy as they are." Bush then looked straight into the camera. "Still, to all the non-violent Muslims who were offended by this cartoon, I'd just like to say... in your face! I made fun of your prophet! And what are you going to do about it? Nothing! That's what! Go write some letter to the editor and see if I care!

"But, to the violent Muslims out there who want to kill me for my cartoon, I offer my deepest apologies. It was a total accident; my pen slipped, and suddenly there was a drawing of Mohammed. It happens sometimes. I hope you'll forgive me and not burn down the White House."

"In response," Russert said, "we have a Muslim extremist - coincidentally named Mohammed - to give us his views. Mohammed?"

The Muslim extremist fired an AK-47 in the air. "Kill Bush! Kill infidels!"

"On to plan B," Bush said as he pulled out a super-soaker and sprayed the Muslim. The Muslim screamed in pain and then melted into a puddle of goo. "So that's why they don't like bacon grease," Bush remarked, "it melts them and sends them straight to hell!" Bush then turned back to the camera. "All you Muslims out there being violent, I will spray you with bacon grease! I will! I want America to be known as the country with the nicest Muslims, so all you behave this instant!" Bush then pumped his super-soaker a couple time to emphasize his point.

"Do you have any other message for the American people?" Russert asked.

Bush thought for a moment and then looked up to the camera. "Ted Kennedy's head is huge! I mean, you can see it�s big on TV, but it's even bigger in person! You really have to see it for yourself. I hope that once his liver gives out, they'll preserve his head in one of those Ripley's Believe It or Not museums."

Russert just stared at Bush for a second. "Uh... anything else?"

Bush leaned back in his chair. "No... I think that covers everything."

"Alito is a menace to our country," Kerry said to the Senate, "He will..."

"Can we vote for cloture now?" a random Senator shouted out.

"Sure, let's end this crap," Dick Cheney answered, "Let's vote."

"Gerwarger... Aliotioto!" Kennedy objected.

The vote went ahead anyway, and Cheney counted the votes. "We have 114 votes for cloture and 3 votes against." Cheney paused for a moment. "That doesn't seem right, but, whatever. Debate has now eneded!"

Guards came in, gagged Kerry, and dragged them away. Kennedy was fed whiskey until he passed out.

"Now we'll vote on confirming Alito," Cheney said. "Hell... we know how that vote is going. Let's just go ahead and say he's confirmed. Any objections?"

Reid began to speak, but then Cheney pulled out a gun and shot him in the kneecaps.

"No objections," Cheney stated.

Alito ran up to where the nine justice were seated, grabbed Sandra Day O'Connor, and tossed her out of her seat. He then pumped his arms in the air and yelled, "I'm now a Supreme Court Justice, and you call can suck it and suck it hard! Woooo!"

* * * *

"It's a good day," Bush said as he sat in his office. "Now I just need to knock 'em dead with my State of the Union Address. Hey, Alito, everytime I announce a new wacky scheme, I need you to stand up and shout, 'That's perfectly Constitutional!'"

"No problem," Alito answered. "Hey, I don't like some of the other Justices and am thinking of having them whacked. Is that okay?"

Bush shrugged his shoulders. "I don't got no say over the Judicial Branch; do what you want. Now, let's get speakerin'!"

* * * *

Bush stood in the Capitol prepared to speak, but up in the rafters a woman shouted, "Bush lied! People died!"

Bush squinted to see who it was. "Cindy Sheehan? Who the hell let her in here?"

"How many more people must die before I get more media coverage!" Cindy yelled.

"I'm sorry about your son, but shut the hell up!" Bush shouted back.

"I'm not sorry! He was a baby killer who fought the freedom fighters in Iraq in only want to blow up children in peace!"

Bush shook his head. He then turned to some guards all in black. "Gestapo, take her outside and shoot her."

"That's perfectly Constitutional!" Alito said.

The guards quickly made their way to Cindy Sheehan, grabbed her, and dragged her outside. Soon, the sound of a gunshot was heard. Bush sighed in relief. "Well, that's that. Now on to my speech.

"You may have noticed my guest sitting next to the First Lady. They are a bomb sniffing dog from Afghanistan who here in honor of his service, Chuck Norris because he's cool, and a live grizzly bear... though I forgot why he's here." Bush looked to Laura. "Stop fidgeting or he may kill you... No, not the bear; it's tranqued. I'm talking about Chuck Norris."

Bush cleared his throat and looked back to the teleprompter. "America is a strong country, and we've made great progress. Unfortunately, my measure to save Social Security was blocked..."

The Democrats all stood and cheered. "Screw America!" one exclaimed.

"You're not supposed to cheer at that, dinguses!" Bush yelled at them.

Suddenly, the bomb sniffing dog ran over and tackled Senator Schumer. All the others quited in fear.

"Good dog," Bush said. "Anyway, I have other plans, and this whole Alito confirmation has proved that the Democrats are too impotent to stop me."

"Yay me!" Alito stood up and cheered.

"One thing is alternative fuels." Bush stopped and checked the teleprompter again. "This sounds boring," Bush grumbled. "There are many ways we can power our vehicles," Bush continued, speaking up, "such as with corn, grass..." Bush's eyes started to close. "...wood chips..."

* * * *

"Bush's falling asleep during his own speech has caused some controversy," the anchorman said. "Conservatives have said it just shows how relaxed Bush is with his policies that he can actually go to sleep when talking about them. Liberals say that his falling asleep proved this is all about oil and that we must get out of Iraq now. When asked to elaborate, they just kept repeating themselves. When asked for comment, Bush said he thought he was just talking to Congress, and, if he catches us spying on him again, he'll murder us all.

"After the break, remember to stay tuned for our special feature: Who will Iran nuke first?"

"Not another Osama bin Laden video," Bush grumbled, "These are always so boring!"

"But this one is particularly disturbing," the ominous figure of Karl Rove intoned.

"I already watched most of it, and he's basically just spouting Democrat talking points. I even saw him reading from a Kerry 2004 pamphlet at one point." Bush looked to the screen again. "Now he's to his stupid book review segment again."

"I really recommend Rogue State," Osama said, "It's quite an eye-opener. For lighter fair, Dude, Where's My Country is quite funny. Right now, I'm reading the new Stephen King novel and I'll have a review on that soon. Also, when the final Harry Potter book is released, expect a threatening tape soon after with my review."

Osama put back on his threatening face. "Now, Americans, I offer you a truce. I know we haven't really attacked you at home since 9/11, but we will again - this time for real. We're having a little trouble setting up, though... which reminds me: Bush's NSA wiretaps are totally illegal and should be stopped. Make sure you support a Congressional investigation of that and expect our new attack as soon as you get Bush to stop his illegal surveillance."

"There, the tape is over," Bush state, "Can I got back to watching Scrubs, now?"

"I don't think you've seen the problem with Osama's new strategy," Rove uttered.

"What? He just sounds like any Democrat... complete with impotent threats to stop me."

The hooded figure of Karl Rove crept out of the shadows. "And do people fear Democrats?"

Bush thought for a moment. "According to recent polls, Democrats are the least feared thing in the nation... ranking lower than babies, Chihuahuas, and baby Chihuahuas."

"So, if people start associating Osama with Democrats..."

Bush leapt to his feet. "People will stop fearing him and put their guard down! That insidious, bearded bastard!"

"Now you know what you must do..." Rove faded back in the shadows.

Bush stood alone in his office. "I never know what I'm supposed to do."

* * * *

"I've called this meeting to combat a growing problem," Bush announced, "Due to Osama bin Laden sounding just like any powerless Democrat, people are no longer fearing terrorists. We need a solution now!"

"We could commit our own act of terrorism and blame it on Al Qaeda," Alberto Gonzales proposed.

"That's a great idea, my torturing Mexican friend!" Bush exclaimed, "One which I can think of no problems with... morally or otherwise!"

"I have some explosives in my car if you want them," Condi said.

"Cool! This plan is coming together!"

"This is spiffy and all," Rumsfeld grumbled, "but when do I get my war with Iran?"

"You have to finish your current wars before you get a new one," Bush shot back. "Any other comments?"

"I just would like to suggest that maybe committing an act of terrorism on our own soil is a bad idea," Scott McClellan said. "If this is found out, I don't know how I'll spin this one to the press."

"You won't," Bush answered, "because you'll be in jail since you helped me do the bombing."

"What? I'm not helping you do this!"

"You have to," Bush stated, "We're the only ones without anything useful to do."

"Press conferences are useful!"

"Come on," Condi said. "We don't have any evidence that anyone other than bloggers ever pay attention to those."

"Well, I'm not blowing up anything where people will get hurt," Scott state adamantly.

Bush thought for a moment. "I have the perfect place."

* * * *

"We're blowing up the Kennedy compound?" Scott exclaimed.

Bush crept through the darkness. "Yeppers."

"But you said we wouldn't hurt any people."

"Kennedys ain't people."

Scott snuck past some trees. "Man, I'm supposed to be giving a press conference right now."

"Don't worry," Bush said, "I got you a good replacement."

* * * *

"Increasingly, Democrats are calling the NSA wiretaps illegal. How does the White House respond?"

"Yipe! Yipe!" Bush's Scotty dog Barney responded.

"I don't think you're answering the question."

Barney charged the reporter.

"Ahh! He's biting my nads! It's like Mike McCurry all over again!"

* * * *

"So where are we planting the explosives?" Scott asked as they got near the front of the compound.

Lying unconscious among numerous empty whiskey bottles on the porch was Ted Kennedy. "There lies the answer," Bush said with a smile.

* * * *

"Boston was put in a complete panic today as a pants-less, bomb-laden Ted Kennedy wandered the streets," the news anchor said. "No one knows what his demands are, as his speech is completely incomprehensible. Efforts to bring him down with bean bag bullets have only angered the already confused Kennedy. Some worry this bomb threat may be a new DNC tactic, and police warn to approach all Democrats with caution."

Bush turned off the TV. Just then, the hooded figure of Karl Rove emerged from the shadows. "People now fear Democrats, and thus they fear Osama as well. You have succeeded. As a reward, I have brought you the ancient cookie of victory."

Bush snatched the sweet immediately. "Woo-hoo! Chocolate chip!"

"I will make New Orleans a chocolate town again!" Mayor Ray Nagin said. "And, if time permits, I will add a chewy nougat center. The important thing to remember, though, is that God hit us with a hurricane to punish the black community for its violence. He was also punishing us for the illegal war in Iraq; the reason he hasn't attacked Bush, though, is because God is an elitist Who has a double standard for rich white men!"

The heavens then opened up and a loud voice boomed, "How dare you try and pin this on Me, you incompetent boob! I wasn't the one Who left all those buses underwater!"

A giant hand then came from the heavens and started thrashing Nagin about. Pat Robertson emerged from the crowd and shouted, "God must be punishing Nagin because he's a homosexual!"

"You shut up!" God responded. "You're next!"

Bush changed the channel on the TV. Gore was on screen giving a speech. "Bush needs to be investigated to see if those NSA wiretaps are illegal... which they were!" Gore thrashed his arms around in threatening fashion. "Gore-bot has determined Bush is threat! Gore-bot destroy! Bush is ruining America... the same as iPod Nanos! Those are a conspiracy to control our brains!"

One of the hobos on the street corner watching him coughed.

"How dare you interrupt me!"

Bush chuckled. "Somewhere sits an unopened bottle of meds prescribed to Albert Gore."

Condoleezza Rice entered the room. "Are you watching TV?"

"I'm watching the news and not cartoons this time! Honest!"

Condi turned off the TV. "Nagin and Gore count as cartoons. You need to confront Iran about their nuclear program."

Bush groaned. "But I don't wanna! You think you can tell me what to do just because you're my vice-president, but you can�t!"

"I'm the Secretary of State."

"Oh... so how are all the states doing? I've been having some concern about Vermont."

Condi rolled her eyes. "I deal with foreign affairs, moron."

"Oh yeah... just like Powell did." Bush thought for a moment. "So what's it with black people and being the Secretary of State?"

Condi tossed a phone at Bush. "Just call the President of Iran... and make sure to use your threatening voice."

"But I hate using the phone," Bush grumbled as he began to dial the phone. "I never know when the NSA is spying on me." Bush put the phone to his ear. "Hello, President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad? This is President George W. Bush."

"What do you want, infidel?"

"I heard you guys are starting a nuclear program, and I don't quite cotton to that."

"We're just making nuclear power plants, American pig-dog."

"Okay; that's cool." Bush hung up the phone and turned to Condi. "It's just for nuclear power."

"Idiot!" Condi yelled at him. "Are you just going to take their word on that? The Iranian government is evil!"

"Fine; I'll call him back, but now I'll just feel like I'm bugging him." Bush redialed. "Hey, Mahmoud, it's Dubya again."

"You're trying my patience, infidel."

"Yeah, well, I was just wondering what you guys need all that nuclear power for?"

"To kill joooos."

"Okay; as long as you have an explanation." Bush hung up the phone and leaned back in his seat as he yawned. He then suddenly sprung to his feet. "Wait! Killing Jews is bad!"

"That's why we need to do something," Condi asserted.

"Can't we just turn a blind eye to Israel and let them handle it like they did with Iraq's nuclear program?"

"No, because they'd have to fly over Iraq to reach Iran, which means we'd have to explicitly give them permission."

Bush shook his fist in the air. "Stupid geography! Always working against me! I guess we'll have to do something, then. Summon the Rumsfeld with the Rumsfeld signal!"

"Donald!" Condi yelled out.

A angry rottweiler ran into the room and tore apart a chair with vengeance. Soon walked in Donald Rumsfeld. "Chomps is full of rage; that means a new war is near."

"Well, we do need to do something about Iran," Bush said.

"We have plans for that," Rumsfeld answered. "We'll infect the populace with a virus that turns them into man-eating zombies who will tear each other apart. My grandson got the idea from a videogame."

"No more zombie plagues!" Bush shouted. "Anyway, a lot of the populace is pro-America and we shouldn't hurt them."

"Rarr!" Rumsfeld yelled as he punched a whole in the wall. "My job is to kill people! If you want people not killed, you talk to someone else!" Rumsfeld then stormed out of the room. Chomps snarled and then followed him.

"I guess some hard diplomacy is the only answer," Bush answered, "Let's send a fruit basket to Mahmoud with a note asking him to pretty please stop his nuclear program... and let's poison the fruit."

"And what do you expect that to accomplish?" Condi asked.

"I don't think through my actions," Bush said, "The enemy can't tell what you're thinking if you don't think - that's straight from The Art of War by General Tso."

Condi sighed. "I'll go tell Scott McClellan to expect a firestorm from the press."

Bush looked worried. "The press has learned how to use fire?!"

"Well, a nuclear war will make for a good memoir," Condi muttered as she left the room.

"Let's start these hearing on the confirmation of Samuel Alito," Sen. Arlen Specter announced, "Any points of order?"

"Can we insert intermissions in Senator Biden's 'questions' 'cause I can't always hold it that long?" Alito asked.

"And I'd like to make a statement," President Bush said.

"Go ahead," Specter answered.

Bush stood up and fixed his suit. "Alito is a good judge. You better all vote to confirm him." He then shook his fist at the Democrats before sitting back down.

"Let's move on to questioning," Specter said.

"Good," Senator Chuck Schumer stated, "Now Alito doesn't have his mafia goons to hide behind."

"They're sanitation workers, and you better show them respect, you mook!" Alito threatened.

"It's Senator Biden's turn to speak," Specter interrupted, "Everyone can use this as nap time if they want."

"I'd like to start my question with an anecdote from my childhood that I don't quite remember," Biden said, "Once, when scared by a butterfly, I..."

A large gray thing hit Biden in the face and knocked him to the ground.

"We agreed that Alito was not allowed to bring any rocks to these hearings!" Schumer exclaimed.

"That was a chunk of concrete!" Alito said defensively.

"It's the same thing!"

"Oh yeah?" Alito scoffed. "If a chunk of concrete is a rock, tell me whether it's igneous, sedimentary, or metamorphic?"

"He's getting geological on your ass!" Bush laughed. "No wonder people call him and his friends 'wiseguys.'"

"Is the President allowed to make quips during this session?" Schumer questioned.

"According to the Constitution, I can make quips during any formal Senate hearing," Bush said.

Schumer was silent for a moment. "Well, I guess there is no way to prove or disprove that."

Specter looked to the floor. "I guess Biden will not be continuing, so it's now Senator Brownback's turn for questions."

"First off, I'd like to say how great it is to have such a qualified candidate at Judge Alito," Brownback said, "I'm sure he'll..."

"Ahh! Somebody stop him!" Schumer screamed as Alito had him in a headlock and kept punching him in the head.

"It's... not... your... turn... to... talk!" Alito said, punching Schumer in the head as emphasis to each syllable.

"Alito is right," Specter stated. "If you wish to plead for mercy, Senator Schumer, you'll have to ask Senator Brownback to cede some time to you."

"I'm not going to do that," Brownback responded immediately, "Anyway, Judge Alito, what are your views on the concept of the Constitution being a living document?"

"I think the Constitution is very solid on many things," Alito answered, still holding Schumer in a headlock, "much like this table in front of me. But, when enough pressure is applied..." Alito then slammed Schumer head through the table. "...it will give. I hope that answers your question."

"Very illustrative."

"It's now Senator Kennedy's turn," Specter said.

Alito stared at the globular mass before him. "It's like someone put Jabba the Hut in a suit."

"Gerwargerwaggle!" Kennedy exclaimed as he flailed his tiny limbs and ripped some flesh from the ham hock he had in hand.

"I'm sorry," Alito answered, "I'm not sure how this is possible, but I don't think I can hear you over your own stench of whiskey."

"Wargherbagleergh!" Kennedy yelled, flailing his arms around some more.

Alito looked to Specter. "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do here; I feel like I should be paying someone a nickel a gander for this guy."

Specter frowned. "He might need his adult diapers changed, but I'm not doing it. I guess we'll move on." Specter looked at the list in front of him. "I guess it's Senator Durbin's turn."

There was a loud crash, and everyone looked to see that an IROC had crashed through the wall and parked on top of Dick Durbin.

Schumer clutching his head, stood up. "Alito just ran over Senator Durbin!"

Alito got out of the car. "Hey, I found the car this way and ran over to move it, but I guess now I won't since everyone is yelling at me. Know what? Fugeddaboutit; I'm outta here. These whole hearing are the biggest insult to me since I found out I was the second choice to Harriet Miers."

Bush laughed for a second and then suddenly stopped. "Oh, wait."

"Somebody help me!" Durbin squeaked, still stuck under a tire.

Specter flipped through a rule book. "Anyone know the proper Senatorial procedures for removing a car from on top of a Senator?" He closed the book. "Let's figure it out after lunch."

Part I

"But Santa," the little boy asked innocently, "shouldn't you be saying, 'Merry Christmas'?"

"Oh, ignorant little brat, er, I mean, precious child, that might offend the five per cent of the population who don't celebrate that particular holiday."

"But, Santa, that's bulls***!"

"My! You sure do have a filthy mouth, little boy," Santa observed.

"That's because I'm not a little boy; I'm..." the "boy" said, removing his disguise, "I'm... RUMMY!!!"

Then the young mother's baby carriage exploded into a million pieces, and emerging from the wreckage was none other than Chomps the World's Angriest Dog!

"Oh, my goodness!" the young mother exclaimed. "Then who is..."

"It is I! Alberto Gonzales! Ju stoopid gringo!" said the Attorney General, removing his fuchsia jumper. "Now lemme defend Navidad, or I'll cut ju."

"I thought my kids looked a little bigger," the young mother said. "But if you're here, where are my children?"

"Oh, they're in an undisclosed location," explained Rummy.

* * * *

"Hey, Mister Vice President? Do ya wanna play hangman?" the actual little boy asked.

"Go f*** yourself, kid. Oh, and Merry Christmas," Cheney replied.

* * * *

"Condi, are we there yet?" President Bush whined. "I feel sick."

"It's your own fault," Condi scolded, "Your helicopter isn't built to hold two people, and that's why you're on the roof."

"Aw, dang it!"

"Hold on! We're heading in for a bumpy landing!!!"

* * * *

A loud whirring noise filled the mall.

"What's that?!" Santa yelled.

The glass ceiling shattered (literally, not metaphorically; women's wages continued to be suppressed just as they should be) as Condi smashed the helicopter on through.

Bush picked the shards out of his hair and the bugs out of his teeth and then leapt off of the helicopter and into the mall fountain.

"All right, now what's all this nonsense about 'holiday' this, and 'diversity' that?" Condi demanded. "Well, Fat Man? Talk!"

"First off, I have a gland problem," Santa retorted. "Secondly, I'm not really Santa; I'm..."

"Hey, that's my line," Rummy asserted.

"I'm... Aquaman!!!"

"Aquaman! It figures that some one as totally lame as you would try to destroy Christmas," Bush said whilst shaking the water out of his ear.

"Yes, and with the help of my fish friends, no-one will be able to stop my reign of secular terror!" Aquaman cackled.

"You moron, we're landlocked; there aren't any fish for miles!" Bush corrected.

"Nu-uh! The aquarium is right across the way! Aqua friends, attack!"

Just then, schools of goldfish, guppies, plankton and even a rare spotted turd snail swarmed the President within seconds, prompting Chomps to act. He lunged at the sea life, devouring the creatures in a single loud gulp.

"Thanks, Chomps!" Bush said, "Hey! Where's my watch?"

"Now, as for you, Aquaman," Rummy began, "I think that we have a special punishment in store for you..."

"No! Think of the Geneva Convention! For the love of God!" Aquaman begged.

"Poppycock," Rummy scoffed, "and I thought that 'God' was verboten?"

"Hey, what say we gut this gringo pescado-hombre and get on home, Holmes?" Gonzales suggested.

"Nah, it's Christmas. We ought to be more charitable..." Rummy replied.

* * * *

The President and the First Family were opening their gifts on Christmas morn:

"George, thank you for the lovely jewellery, but how were you able to afford it?" Laura asked.

"Afford? Why, Sweetheart, haven't you ever heard of a five-finger discount?"

"What?" the First Lady responded, her tone flattening. "Did that war whore help you shoplift for Christmas again?"

"No, of course not!" Bush defended, "Girls, do you like your mall security guard uniforms?"

"Yes, Daddy!" Barbara and Jenna answered enthusiastically.

"And I just love my new watch! I... misplaced the old one." Bush fibbed. "I wonder what ol' Rummy and the gang did with Aquaman?" he thought.

* * * *

"Welcome to the Museum of Tolerance!" the Quaaludes-popping tour guide exclaimed. "First, we'll begin with our Aquarium of the Rainbow, which features fish of every colour, creed and life-style. Children, please say hello to our newest addition, Aquaman!"

"Hello, Aquaman!" the children said in unison.

"Please help me!" Aquaman screamed, "The blowfish have been more than living up to their name! Please don't leave me with the pufferfish for another minute!"

"Oh, look at how he frolics, children!"

Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah and Happy Festivus!

President Bush was in sitting in the Oval Office in his PJs, posting on his blog...

"And... that's... why... all... lib'ruls... suck... Save!"

Just then, a very pleased Karl Rove emerged from the shadows.
"Sir, the prophecy that once predicted your dooom now has a brighter future in store for you. Your polls are up."

"Karl? I thought that you were indicted and stuff. I even turned your office into a playroom for Barney!"

"Yes, I know; I discovered an early Christmas gift in my inbox this morning."

"You can't say that!" the President gasped. "It's not politically correct!"

"Oh, God..."

"You can't say that, either!"

Just then, Bush's face was met by a swift back-hand.
"George, what did I tell you about political correctness?" inquired an exasperated Condi Rice.

"That only hippies and college professors pay it any mind?"

"Exactly. Now come on, we have to go fight the War on Christmas!"

"But I thought that Christmas was good!" Bush said before being slapped again.

"No, the war was started by left-wing zealots and big retail merchants; we're defending Christmas."

"Oh, all right. Let's go!"

"And put on something first. That Curious George pattern doesn't really become you."

"Aw, you're no fun," Bush griped.

* * * *

The President, the Secretary of State and Karl Rove waited at the landing pad.

"I think you'll like my new helicopter," boasted Bush. "It's radio-controlled, and it makes five different weapon sounds!"

"Yes, but does it actually fire weapons, per se?" asked Condi sceptically.

"Do malted milkball machine guns count?"

"Dooooom!!!" Karl Rove bellowed.

Just then, a thunderous crash filled the area with dust and d�bris.

"A perfect landing!" Bush stated proudly.

"I'm flying," said Condi.

* * * *

"Look, children! It's Santa!" said a young mother with several younglings in tow.

"Ho, ho, ho! Happy holidays! Come and tell Santa what you want for the religious celebration of your choice," St. Nick declared.

"Something's not right..." the young mother said to herself.

TO BE CONTINUED...

"I can't believe when I told the Chinese to respect human rights and be more democratic like Taiwan, they called that 'foreign interference,'" Bush griped, "And then, when they took us to a soccer game and I ran out on the field, grabbed the ball, and ran away giggling, they called that 'foreign interference' too."

"Have you thought of giving back the ball?" Laura asked.

Bush clutched the soccer ball tightly. "No, it's mine! Anyway, I'm so mad, I think I'm going to stab the Chinese with a steak knife. When's dinner?"

"No stabbing!"

"We're probably going to be eating with chopsticks anyway," Bush sulked, "Those aren't as good for stabbing."

They were lead into the dining room with the evil Communist Chinese leader. Bush then got a phone call. "What?!"

"It's Harry Reid. We want you to admit that you lied to us about the reasons for going to war."

"But you all said the same things before the war!" Bush shouted, "We even have a commercial out of that."

"Well... then we lied to ourselves, but you lying as the President is much worse."

"Fine, when I get back I'll kick you in the nuts and smash your head into some drywall. How's that?"

"I wouldn't like that at all!"

"Then shut up!" Bush hung up the phone and turned to the evil Communist Chinese leader. "Explain to me your one party system again."

"I'll explain to you more than that, American president," said the evil Communist Chinese leader sinisterly. Sitting next to him was an American in a suit. "I have with me a representative from Cisco Systems. With his help, I can now further oppress my people with out Commie evil! Yes, with capitalism and Communism working together, I have even more power to spread evil!" The evil Communist Chinese leader then laughed evilly and the Cisco Systems rep joined in.

"Now you're corrupting our capitalism with your Commie evil!" Bush yelled angrily, "I won't let this stand!"

"There is nothing you can do!" the evil Communist Chinese leader shot back, "As we speak, Microsoft is writing software to better organize the execution of dissidents!"

"I've had enough of your Commie evil!" Bush declared, "I'm going to support Taiwan breaking off from you jokers!"

"You wouldn't dare!"

"I would! My poll ratings are in the toilet, and I don't care! I do what I wan'!"

The evil Communist Chinese leader's smile disappeared. "Perhaps you will care that you've walked into my... NINJA TRAP!" He then rang a bell and ropes dropped from the ceiling. Then descended a dozen ninjas surrounding President Bush and Laura.

"Not a ninja trap!" Bush exclaimed, "That's the worst kind of trap!"

"Not again," Laura sighed as the evil Communist Chinese leader ran off laughing.

"Only one thing to do," Bush said. He then ripped off his shirt and sank into a martial arts pose. "Go commandeer a helicopter to get us out of here," Bush called out to Laura as he kung fu fought the ninjas, "I have a score to settle with the evil Communist Chinese leader."

Laura pulled a gun out of her purse. "I'm starting to hate these foreign visits."

* * * *

Bruised and battered, Bush stumbled through the storm up to the top of the mountain. "Last I remembered, it was sunny out. I then made a right at the bathroom, and I'm not sure how I got here."

"I think this stormy mountaintop will make the perfect place for our final battle," said the evil Communist Chinese leader.

"If you say so, but it's kinda hard to hear you with the wind and rain and thunder and what-not."

The evil Communist Chinese leader took up a martial arts pose. "I think we both knew your visit would end this way."

"Actually, I was hoping it would end with one of those parades with the dragons, but, whatever."

"RED DRAGON PUNCH!" the evil Communist Chinese leader shouted as he punched Bush in a flash of red flame. Bush flew backwards and landed hard on the ground.

"Ow!" he moaned.

"Ha!" said the evil Communist Chinese leader, "You are no match for my Commie kung fu! It will spread pain equally throughout your body!"

"Actually, my head hurts more than anything else."

"Well, some things are more equal than others. RED DRAGON AX KICK!" The evil Communist leader tried to crush Bush with a dropping heel kick, but he rolled out of the way.

"Maybe we should go back to that diplomacy thing," Bush suggested sheepishly.

"It is too late for that!" the evil Communist Chinese leader declared, "Now your American hegemony will end!"

"My what money?"

"I will defeat you, and then I will launch my nuclear arsenal at America! I'm pretty sure some of them have will actually be able to reach California now."

"You will not harm Cal-ee-forn-ya!" came a shout from behind the evil Communist Chinese leader. He was then lifted into the air. "I am Arnold! I will crush you! Dah!" The Governator then tossed the evil Communist Chinese leader off the mountain who screamed until he disappeared into the darkness below.

Bush looked down over the side of the mountain. "Since we can't see his body, we can only assume he is dead." He turned to Arnold. "What are you doing here?"

"Ever since all my proposition were defeated in the election, I have been wandering stormy mountain tops in my depression," Arnold sobbed.

"Don't worry," Bush told him, "You'll have time to make a comeback and crush your enemies as always. Until then, just beat up Democrats in the hallways like I do."

A helicopter flew near them, Laura holding a gun to the pilot's head. "Can we get out of here?" Laura called out, "We really need to have better foreign trips."

"Maybe next we can try and have diplomatic relations with Hawaii for a change," Bush said as he walked to the helicopter with Arnold.

The captive pilot rolled his eyes. "Idiot."

"Sacre Bleu!" screamed a Frenchman, "The... uh... 'youths' are rioting."

"Death to the infidels!" shouted a "youth."

"Where are our leaders?" asked another Frenchman.

"Jacques Chirac is under his le desk peeing his le pants!" answered the first.

* * * *

"Being President is fun," Bush mused to himself, "but I wonder if I can get a better office."

The phone then rang.

"Hello, this is the most powerful man in the world," Bush answered, "Me; Dubya!"

"It's I, Jacques Chirac!" cried a panicked Chirac.

"What do you want, Jacques-strap?" Bush asked with annoyance.

"The streets are on fire because of rioting... uh... 'youths.'"

"Yep, those kids and their rap music can be trouble."

"Uh, no, not that kind of youths, I mean, the uh... 'youths' who are very invested in their religion."

Bush furrowed his brow in confusion. "You mean a Bible camp has gotten out of control?"

"Uh... different religion. More with... uh... veils... and calling people infidels."

"Oh, you got wacky Muslims running about."

"Youths!" Chirac quickly corrected Bush.

"Whatever. So what do you want me to do about it? I'm not popular with Muslims... still, the never riot here."

"I need your help to stop them before they destroy all that is French! It is your duty!"

"Hey, if we Americans always bail out you French, you'll never learn to take care of yourselves. Why doesn't your people shoot the rioters, Jacques-strap?"

"We don't have guns!"

"Well, that's short sighted of ya."

"Please! Help us! They're burning my car as we speak!"

Bush thought for a moment. "Fine. But you have to hold a press conference and admit you're a girl."

"Again?"

"Yes."

* * * *

"French President Jacques Chirac is about to make a public address about the rioting Mus... 'youths,'" said the anchorman. Before a podium stood Chirac.

"It is important that I tell you all to remain calm and that..." Chirac stepped out from behind the podium revealing he was wearing a dress. He then pranced about saying, "I'm a dainty little girl!"

* * * *

"I didn't say anything about a dress or dancing," Bush told Chirac over the phone.

"I wanted to commit to the part," Chirac responded, "So, will you help us?"

"Sure. Here's what you do. First, play to your strengths. Surrender to the 'youths' and let them run the government. Then form an insurgency to fight the ruling 'youths.' Then the media will hound the 'youths' about how they�re in a quagmire and must pull out."

"I wanted you to send troops!"

"Well, that's all you�re getting 'cause I don't like you." Bush then hung up the phone and looked around the room. "Maybe the reason I don't like this office is because it's kinda roundish."

President Bush twisted the knob to the Senate chambers and walked right into the door.

"It's locked!" Bush exclaimed, "What gives?"

"We're sealing the Senate so we can have a discussion on the Iraq war," answered Harry Reid from inside.

"What the hell have we been having for the past couple years?" Bush demanded.

"The American people must know the truth!" Reid responded.

"How are they going to know anything with the doors locked?!"

Reid was quiet for a moment. "Leaks!"

"That's it!" Bush fumed, "You let me in so I can break your kneecaps with a pipe!"

"Never!"

"Stupid dumb Democrats," Bush grumbled as he walked away. He then noticed a man standing nearby. "Who are you?"

"I'm the C-Span cameraman," he answered, "I was voted to have the most boring job in the world."

"Well I'm George W. Bush and I was voted President." He then added angrily. "And don't let anyone tell you otherwise!"

"Now my job is even more boring since I got kicked out of the Senate chambers," the cameraman sulked, "All I have to film are those closed Senate doors."

"It's not the time to film doors!" Bush declared, "It's time for action!" He took a fire ax off the wall and charged the locked doors. The ax clanged against them without any effect. "Oh yeah," Bush said, "The Senate doors have been enchanted with ancient colonial magic and are impervious to all attacks." Bush thought for a moment. "But the walls are still vulnerable!" He began hacking away at a nearby wall.

"Doesn�t that go against the principles of a Senate lockdown?" the C-Span cameraman asked.

"The doors will still be locked; it's within the rules."

"What's going on over here," demanded Alito as he walked towards Bush followed by two toughs.

"I'm trying to get in to talk to the Senate about confirming you," Bush answered, pausing from chopping away at the wall. "They locked the Senate chamber." Bush looked at the two people behind Alito. "Who are your friends?"

"They're Tony and Vito," Alito answered.

"What do you guys do?" Bush asked.

"We work in... uh... sanitation," Tony answered.

"Doing what?"

"Why's this guy giving us the third degree?" Vito demanded of Alito.

"He's cool; he just don't know any better," Alito answered. He turned to Bush. "See, my friends are here to testify on my behalf. It appears that some people are casting aspersions against me since I'm Italian and saying I have ties to the mob."

"And there is no Mafia," Tony asserted.

"So where did you meet your friends?" Bush asked.

"Uh... from a court case earlier in my career," Alito answered, "Funny story. I was supposed to convict them for being part of organized crime but was unable on account of them being all innocent and what not."

Tony and Vito laughed, and Bush joined in though he wasn't sure what the joke was. "Well, we're not going to be able to talk to the Senators unless we get through this wall. I�d ask for your help, but I only have one ax."

"We brought our own," Vito said as he and Tony each pulled out an ax.

"Knew about the lockdown, then?"

"Yeah; that's what we brought them for," Vito laughed.

They all then hacked away. "They're coming through the walls!" came a scream from inside.

Bush turned to the C-Span cameraman. "Get ready to film democracy in action."

"Quiet!" he answered back, staring intently through his camera, "I think I saw the doors move."

"So, how was your visit to the Middle East?" Cheney asked Bush.

"Well, Saddam had a daring escape with the help of Zarqawi, and I pursued him with my father. We heard he was after Stalin's secret stash, but then found out he was really after the magical artifact of Stalin's 'stache - Stalin�s moustache that was shaved off his dead body before he was dumped in a river. I then got the help of the 'stache expert John Bolton and caught up to Saddam just as he replaced his moustache with Stalin's. Then I got bored and forgot what happened next."

"Where's Bush Sr.?"

Bush shrugged his shoulders. "Stuck somewhere in Syria, I think. Don't we have business to attend to?"

"We do need a new SCOTUS nominee now that we finally got rid of Miers," Condi stated.

"Who�s Miers?" Bush answered.

"I've told you tons of times that suddenly pretending you never heard of her isn't going to get you out of this," Laura scolded him, "You better get a good nominee this time if you're going to send me out to defend him or her. I don't want Rush Limbaugh making fun of me again."

"Fine," Bush grumbled, "So who do the blogs want? Those guys are annoying, and I want to shut 'em up."

Condi looked on her laptop. "'Not Gonzales' seems to be the consensus."

Alberto Gonzales leapt to his feet brandishing a switchblade. "I'll cut them!"

"I can't nominate him anyway," Bush said, "Where would I find another angry, torturing Mexican to replace him?" Bush thought for a moment. "I know! I'll nominate a ninja!"

"No more stealth nominees!" Cheney shouted.

"How about Judge Evel Conservative of Texas," Condi suggested, "He's presided over more rulings for execution than any judge. He's even then strangled some convicts himself as soon as the ruling was handed down... sometime only when the jury is only halfway through reading the verdict."

Bush thought about this, but a man racing back and forth on a rocket scooter screaming, "Weeeeee!!!" was breaking his concentration.

"Can you stop that, Scooter Libby!" Bush yelled. He then looked to Cheney. "Why do you keep him around?"

"Sometime I like to have perfectly legal classified discussions with him that he may or may not pass on to the press to destroy our enemies," Cheney answered.

"Oh yeah, we might have indictments coming," Bush grumbled. He looked to Libby. "You promise me you won't have some big shootout with police if they try to bring you in."

"Okey-dokey."

Bush stared at him a second. "Why do you have an assault rifle slung over your shoulder?"

"It's not an assault rifle," Libby answered, "It's a semi-auto with only a pistol grip and detachable magazine."

"Okay then." Bush thought for a moment. "I heard this could affect Rover too!"

Out of the darkness, the hooded figure of Karl Rove appeared. "If lying to a grand jury is wrong, then I don't want to be right."

"But what happens if you're indicted?"

Rove's eyes glowed red. "You will pardon me."

"I... will... pardon... Karl... Rove..." Bush said in a monotone voice as he stared back blankly, "and I will eat corndogs until I puke."

"He always does that when I give him instructions," Laura sighed.

Bush shook himself out of his trance. "Don't worry, Rover; being indicted ain't so bad. Is it, Smiley?"

"You get to be in all the papers!" Tom Delay stated, "By the way, when all is said and done, I'm going to have Ronnie Earle's skull sitting on my mantel."

"That's the spirit!" Bush said, "Now, getting back to the Supreme Court Nominee, do you think I should use another one from Harry Reid's list of recommendations?"

A large rotteweiler broke through the ceiling over Bush and started biting him violently. Out in the hallway, Rumsefld was heard yelling, "Someone seen my dog?"

PREVIOUS

* * * *

"Why are you only going 35 mph?" Saddam demanded.

"Because we're in a school zone," Zarqawi answered.

"But you blow up children all the time!"

Zarqawi thought for a moment and then slapped his forehead. "Oh yeah, I'm a terrorist. Duh."

He then sent the Ford Bronco full speed through a school crossing.

* * * *

"That is not how you do a low speed chase," Dubya complained as he watched the white vehicle speed away, "and my horse is lumpy!"

"It's a camel, son," George Bush Sr. responded.

Dubya punched his camel in the head. "That's for getting kids to smoke!"

The camel turned and spit in Dubya's face.

"Aieee! They have defenses of some sort!"

* * * *

"You know what I want, Saddam," Zarqawi stated as they continued to drive away.

"Bah! You cannot control such power!" Saddam answered.

"You will help me, or I will give you back to the Americans!"

"Fine. But the weapon will be mine so I can regain my presidency. Then I'll help you out in your cause."

"You'll rid the Middle East of the Americans and the jooos?" Zarqawi asked hopefully.

"Except for my lawyer; I might need him." Saddam then noticed something in the passenger side mirror. "We're being attacked by George Bushes!"

* * * *

George Bush Sr. and son were right up next to the Ford Bronco on a motorcycle. "Do you hear anything, son?"

"Yeah, they�re discussing something about how they don't want us to hear about... uh... Stalin's secret stash. Oh, and now they're talking about using a gun to shoot the two of us."

"Die American dog-pigs!" Saddam yelled as he leaned out the window and fired at the Bushes.

Bush Sr. pulled out a gun. "Time to do what I should have done years ago," he said as he aimed at Saddam.

Dubya tried to grab the gun. "No! I get kill him! I'm President now!"

"You let go!"

"No, you let go!"

The motorcycle then lost control and ran into a cactus on the side of the road.

"Ow! Cacti are pointy!"

* * * *

The two Bushes stumbled there way into a nearby military base. "Hey, it's the president!" shouted Buck the Marine.

"How ya doin�?" Dubya asked as he pulled cactus needles out of his side.

"Well, I'm on my ninth tour of duty here. Any idea when the war in Iraq thingee will be over?"

Dubya shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno. Sounds more like a question for my successor's successor."

"We need to find out what is this secret stash of Stalin that Saddam and Zarqawi is after," Bush Sr. said, "Might be some unknown commie weapon."

"Sounds like it's time for an adventure!" Dubya exclaimed. "Now where is my adventure hat..."

* * * *

At a lone tent in the desert, Saddam and Zarqawi slowly entered.

"I know what you seek," said the blind seer, "but I shall only help those pure of heart."

"I have ten American dollars," Saddam announced, pulling out a crumpled ten dollar bill.

"Let's get going then!"

TO BE CONTINUED...

"As going with Iraqi law, I am once again offering everyone a pretrial mint," the judge said. The bailiff then walked around the audience with a bowl of mints. "Since we're still waiting on the results of the vote on the Constitution and we don't have any other rules about trials other than the mints, I'll just play this by ear. If you don't like how I'm running things, there's a suggestion box in the back. Once everyone is done consuming his or her mint, we shall start again for the day on the trial of Saddam Hussein."

Former President George Bush Sr. took the stand. "Saddam tried to have me killed. That was not prudent."

"He tried to kill my daddy!" Dubya yelled, jumping to his feet and pointing to the slightly perturbed looking Saddam. "He's a bad man!"

The judge used an air horn to restore silence. "There will be no jumping and shouting in my courtroom... except on casual court rules Fridays."

Laura urged Dubya back into his seat.

"Isn't it true that you fought against Iraq's military and then imposed sanctions against his country?" Saddam's lawyer questioned the elder Bush.

"Yes, but we're America; what's wrong with that?"

"They agitated me into invading Kuwait," Saddam said mournfully, "All I really wanted was a basket full of kittens, but the means Americans couldn't let me be a dictator in peace!"

"If you're going to interrupt, Saddam," the judge warned, "then I'm going to let someone from the other side interrupt for balance." He pointed to Dubya.

Dubya sprung to his feet and held his wooden chair in the air. "You're a bad man, and I'm going to beat you to death with this chair!"

The judge blew his air horn again. "There will be no chair fights in my courtroom! If you are going to beat Saddam to death, you take it outside!"

"But it's hot out there!" Dubya complained as Laura put him back in his seat.

Dubya took the stand next. "So, Mr. American President," said Saddam's lawyer, "what were you thinking when you nominated Harriet Miers for the Supreme Court?"

"I don't think that�s relevant," Dubya answered.

"Please answer the questions," the judge said, "I'm curious about that one."

"Me too," said the prosecutor.

"Yeah, what the hell were you thinking, son?" Bush Sr. asked.

"This coming from the guy who appointed Souter?" Dubya shot back.

The bailiff whispered to the judge. "Apparently a new law on courtroom procedures have been passed," the judge said, "We are supposed to have a break for beverages every ten minutes. Your choice of beverages will be coffee, tea, or Clamato."

As everyone went for refreshments, Dubya found himself face to face with Saddam. "You gassed those Kurds!" Dubya yelled, "You're going to get executed for that! I hope you get the gas chamber so you'll know what it feels like to be in a chamber!"

"Bah, American pig-dog!" Saddam answered, "You'll never convict me! My lawyer is Jewish!"

"It's true," said Saddam's lawyer, "I celebrate the Sabbath on Saturday."

"What religion is the prosecutor?" Dubya whispered to Laura.

"Buddhist."

"Guilt and innocence are but a state of mind," said the prosecutor.

"Dagnabbit!" Dubya shouted.

Suddenly, Saddam made a dash for the door. "He's getting away!" yelled the bailiff, sipping his Clamato.

George Bush Sr. and younger pursued. Outside, Saddam jumped into the passenger side of a white Ford Bronco which then began to drive off. They got a glance of the driver, though: Zarqawi!

"I knew they were in cahoots!" Dubya exclaimed, "And now they're getting away at a speed near 35 mph. It's time for a low speed chase!"

Bush Sr. stared at leaving vehicle. "A Ford Bronco? They still make those?"

TO BE CONTINUED...

"And now, the next nominee for the Supreme Court..." Bush yelled, and the crowd of conservatives went wild. Bush then pulled back the curtain. "Some woman!"

"Hi, everybody!"

The stunned silence was broken by a few coughs.

Bush looked at the crowd with confusion. "What?"

* * * *

"Yay! Everybody is here in the Oval Office for that videogame tournament," Bush exclaimed excitedly, "Even Rummy is here, and I didn't even think he knew what videogames are."

The door to the Oval Office was closed by Cheney. "Actually, we weren't truthful when we said there was going to be a White House videogame tournament," he said, "In fact, this is an intervention."

"For what?" Bush asked as Laura led him to a chair.

"For being either stupid or crazy," Condi answered, "We're not exactly sure."

"Can an intervention cure that?" Bush inquired.

Laura held his hands. "It seemed worth a shot."

"My job was to bring drinks!" Scott McClellan added proudly.

"Can we get all this talking over with quick before it turns me into a fruit?" Rumsfeld growled, his rottweiler Chomps sitting by his side and looking just as angry.

"Well, why does everybody think I'm stupid and/or crazy now?"

"We always suspected it," Laura answered, "but, now, with the nomination of Harriet Miers..."

"Is that what this is about?" Bush said with surprise, "What's wrong with her?"

"I appreciate the cronyism," Cheney answered, "but why in the world would you pick her out of all the possible choices in the entire country?"

"Because everyone is worried I'd pick a Souter like my father," Bush replied, "and I've learned from the mistakes of my father such as make sure you finish the war in Iraq and don�t be not reelected. So, I picked someone I know who isn't going to be a surprise when she gets in the Court. And I know... uh... what's-her-face, and respect her judgment. Every time she sees me, she compliments my tie... and even ties that one time I accidentally wore two at once. That�s who I want on the court!"

"But even our illegal immigrant janitor has more legal qualifications!" Condi shouted.

"Si," said Pedro as he emptied the Oval Office wastepaper basket, "Las calificaciones legales de Harriet Miers son dudosas."

"No one other than you would have even thought to choose her," Cheney stated.

"She was on Harry Reid's list!" Bush answered defensively.

Laura slapped Bush in the face. "Do you even hear what you're saying?"

"Fine," Bush groaned, "everyone hates Harriet Miers. Anyone else have something to add?"

Chomps ran over and bit Bush in the leg. "Son of a..."

"I second what Chomps said," Rumsfeld declared, "Also, where is the open bar we were promised?"

"When I was told to bring to drinks, I thought that meant punch. So... AWW MY LEG!"

Chomps pulled Scott out of his chair and started to drag him across the room.

"Well, I've had enough of this!" Bush asserted as he got up, "I stand by my decisions!" When he opened the office door, there stood Harriet Miers.

"I heard everyone in here and wondered what was going on," she said.

"Uh... nothing."

"By the way, I just read the Constitution for the first time and it�s neato! Have you read it before?"

"I... uh... scanned it once."

"Being a Supreme Court Justice is going to be fun! Yay!" Harriet Miers then ran off.

Bush looked back to everyone in his office. "As soon as she starts making judicial decisions, you're all going to love her." He then stormed off.

"Well, this administration is over," Cheney declared, "Might as well start working on our next jobs. I'm thinking of forming an elite group of bounty hunters. Who�s in?"

"Not another giant hurricane!" Bush griped, "Maybe I did make God angry. Think I should convert to Judaism?"

"No," Laura Bush answered.

"I just know I'm going to get blamed for this," Bush moaned, "and it even hit Texas! Why couldn't it go for Mexico where no one lives that anyone cares about?"

"These things just happen, dear."

"They didn't happen to Clinton! This is so unfair!"

"Well, life - and presidencies - can be unfair."

"Still, I just hope nothing bad happens for the rest of my term."

Rumsfeld ran into the room, grabbed Bush by the neck, and lifted him into the air. "Rarr! You sent more troops to Iraq! I told you I didn't need more troops!"

"I only sent two!" Bush gasped back, "Jenna and Barbara!"

"You did what?" Laura exclaimed.

Rumsfeld dropped Bush, growled, and left the room. "I signed them up for the Marines," Bush explained to Laura, "People said it would prove I believed in my war."

"Only idiots would say that!" Laura responded.

"And I have to appeal to idiots if we are ever going to eat into the Democrat base!"

"Do you even have the authority to sign people up for the militarily? They're both adults!"

"I can do what I want!" Bush asserted as he stood up straight, "I'm the President!" Laura glowered at him. "Anyway," he added, "I'm sure they'll be fine."

Laura rolled her eyes. "Based on what history?"

* * * *

"I can't stand it here, Barbara! It's hot, it's dusty, and there is no place to plug in a hair curler."

"And these clothes they make us wear were not made by Versace," Barbara said, staring at her uniform.

Buck the Marine walked up to them. "Are you the new Marines?" he asked dubiously.

"I once studied marine biology," Jenna answered.

"Why does everyone speak gibberish around here?" Barbara asked.

"Uh... did you two go through boot camp?"

"What camp?" Jenna said with confusion.

"That's some stupid military lingo," Barbara explained.

Buck eyed the two uncertainly. "Well, since both your nametags say 'Bush,' we'll have to come up with nicknames for each of you."

"I'll be 'Princess!'" Jenna chimed in.

Barbara pulled out her KaBar. "You only said that because you knew that would be my choice! I'll murder you dead!"

Jenna pulled out her knife. "Not if I murder you first!"

Buck pulled the two apart. "Save it for the enemy! Now, you at least qualified at the rifle range, right?"

"It was noisy there," Barbara answered, "and, by the way, I don't want anyone to bother us early in the morning again. As you can plainly see on our tent, it says, 'Private.'"

"And, for first class tents," Jenna added, "They really suck."

"'Private First Class' is your rank," Buck told them.

Jenna looked to Barbara with confusion. "It's more of the military lingo," Barbara explained.

There was an explosion nearby. "That's loud too," Jenna commented, covering her ears.

"It's mortars!" Buck yelled as he dropped to the ground, "Hit the deck!"

Jenna and Barbara just stared at him. "Our clothes look bad enough as it is," Jenna explained, "We're not going to go and get sand on them too and look like a couple of hobos."

"And when do we get leave to go shopping?" Barbara asked, "And do you know of some place we can buy other things than headscarves?"

There was the whistle of another mortar in the air, and then the Bush twins' tent exploded.

"My CDs were in there!" Jenna cried.

"We are so going to have post traumatic stress disorder from this," Barbara griped.

* * * *

"Like I said," Bush assured Laura again, "They'll be fine. They take after me. Now why don't you go to the Presidential Library and order the books in that funky number system you like so much."

"I just might do that," Laura said as she left the room.

Scott McClellan came in. "I need help handling the press," he said, "Your poll numbers are still a bit precarious, and how you were videotaped beating up a number of orphan children isn't helping."

"I thought I told you to explain to the press that they were staring at me," Bush answered.

"That doesn't seem to settle the issue."

Bush thought for a moment. "Let's try handling the press the way that General Honore did. Tell the reporters that they're 'stuck on stupid' and should be asking questions pertaining to the next orphans I'll be beating up."

"Uh..." Scott started to stammer, but was interrupted by a shout.

"You murdered my son!" came a bullhorn from outside.

Bush looked out the window. "It's Cindy Sheehan!" he exclaimed, "I thought she was dead!"

"As I explained to you before," Scott answered, "Just because someone isn't in the news cycle anymore, doesn't mean he or she ceases to exist."

"I'm always in the news cycle," Bush muttered as he opened the window. He then shouted out, "I didn't kill your son, you dumb broad!" He looked out a while longer. "She's got a bit of a crowd with her; I think a rocket propelled grenade would disperse them. Get me a grenade launcher!"

"Uh... I think that would be murder," Scott answered.

"I didn't ask for a legal opinion; I asked for a grenade launcher!" Bush shot back.

"It's not like I keep one on me as a press secretary," Scott replied.

"Now what do I do," Bush groaned. An idea then struck him. "Does Cindy Sheehan have any other sons? I could murder one of them, and then I really will have murdered her son! That will put things back to normal!"

Scott just stared at Bush aghast for a few seconds. "I think you're stuck on stupid, sir."

"Have we instructed the rescuers to not help black people?" President Bush asked an aide, "I don't want black people helped while I'm president. This administration hates black people." He saw Condoleezza Rice enter the room. "Condi! I need you to investigate my administration and root out any black people who may be hiding in it."

"Were you listening to left-wing nuts and got confused about your actual positions on issues again?" Condi asked accusingly.

Bush looked down at his feet. "Maybe."

"Well, quit it. Now leave disaster relief to... uh... whoever's job that is. You need to focus on Robert's confirmation hearing."

* * * *

In the Senate chambers, the Democrats were throwing questions to John Roberts at a rapid pace.

"How many years back do you want to turn the clock on civil rights?"

"There's always this talk about women's abortion rights; what about men's abortion rights?"

"How will you use the Court to stop hurricanes?"

"Why do you hate black people?"

"Where's my drink? I ordered it 20 minutes ago!" Ted Kennedy finally said.

"These are all very idiotic questions," Roberts answered, "and I'll need time to properly dismiss each one."

"Bush to the rescue!" Bush shouted out as he entered the room.

"Actually, I think I'm handling this..."

"Think nothing of it," Bush told Roberts. He turned to the Senators. "Now, I want you to know that John Roberts is a great guy. There's no reason to hit him with questions about affirmative action, abortion, and white supremacy. Instead, you should look at his character and confirm him now for... uh..." Bush looked to Roberts. "What did I nominate you for again?"

"Chief Justice."

"What? You?"

"Yeah."

"You sure it's not clerk for the Chief Justice?"

"No, the Chief Justice."

Bush shook his head. "When did I make that decision? I must have fell off the wagon." He looked to the Senators. "So, he'll make a great Chief Justice... or, at least, a very boring and uninteresting one. So, go ahead and confirm." Bush then walked forward and punched Senator Biden in the face. "That's for interrupting me!"

"I didn't interrupt you!"

"Yeah, but you looked like you wanted to!" Bush yelled and held up his fist. "I'm just laying down the law." He then turned to Kennedy. "Do you know you're not wearing pants?"

"Yes, and I don't care."

"Eww, Senators," Bush uttered and shivered as he left the room.

"So, anymore questions?" Roberts asked.

"This is getting boring," Senator Specter said, "Anyone want to head to the Mall and play frisbee?"

"Will there be booze?" Kennedy asked.

Roberts picked up a cooler and placed it on his table. "I brought some cold beers for just such an occasion."

"I've changed my mind about Roberts," Kennedy declared, "He seems like a great guy. Let's confirm him and go play frisbee and drink beers!"

Lots of cheers of agreement echoed throughout the Senate chambers.

"Soon I'll be Chief Justice," Roberts muttered to himself, "and then I'll use my powers for the cause of darkness and evil to the glee of my dark lord... and none shall stop me."

"Did you say something?" Kennedy asked.

"No."

"Hurricane Katrina is unacceptable," President Bush told his cabinet, "We cannot let hurricanes like it happen again. I am declaring a War on Weather. So, we must decide how to first act. What causes hurricanes?"

"By the Chaos Theory," Condoleezza Rice said, "a hurricane here could be caused by a butterfly flapping its wings in Japan."

"Then I want someone sent to Japan who will bring me the heads of any butterfly that dare flaps its wings!" Bush commanded. He then reconsidered. "Actually, have it bring back the whole bodies instead and pin them up in some sort of display case so the American people can see our vengeance. What else could cause hurricanes?"

"I hate to mention it," Scott McClellan stated, "but, really, weather is just an act of God and..."

"I want God placed at the top of the FBI's Ten Most Wanted!" Bush demanded. He then took a piece of paper and quickly wrote out a note and thrust it to Scott. "Here's an ultimatum for God full of swear words and demanding His surrender. I want you to go to the nearest cathedral and deliver it."

"But..."

"Now!" Bush yelled and shook his fist at Scott. Scott grabbed the note and ran away in fright.

"If I may go to other matters," Rumsfeld said, "Iran has recently had itself bombed by us in an act of defiance. I say we bomb them in retaliation."

"Rummy, I don't have time for war talk," Bush answered, "You make all the decisions and handle that yourself."

Rumsfeld walked away laughing evilly.

"Always keeping good spirits," Bush remarked.

A man in a black suit, black tie, and black sunglasses entered the room. "I have information on Hurricane Katrina that might interest you."

"And who are you?"

"My name is Clancy. I work with U.S. intelligence... or maybe I don't, if you know what I mean."

"No... but continue."

"Most think the reason Hurricane Katrina became more powerful was because of the water temperatures in the Gulf, but we found one poster on some bboard who blamed it on the Chinese. And, posters on internet bboards are almost never wrong... or never right. I forget which."

"We don't have time to figure that out," Bush declared, "I want both China and the Gulf nuked."

Vice President Cheney ran into the room. "Chief Justice Rehnquist is dead!"

Bush looked back with shock. He soon recovered to ask, "Was he killed by weather?"

"We don't yet know."

"He will be avenged!" Bush shouted into the air. He then thought for a moment. "Ooh, I need to write a eulogy."

* * * *

"Rehnquist always believed the Constitution was a living document," Bush told the people in attendance at the funeral, "That's why he obtained a magic dagger and plunged it into the heart of the Constitution, killing it forever. Because of his conservatism, many liberals were afraid that Rehnquist would vote against Roe v. Wade... since he already did back in '73. Still, he was respected by both sides, especially for his work towards civil rights for cyborgs, giving them a percentage of human rights based on their ratio of man to machine. I just hope we can all spend our last days like him, working tirelessly and cowering in the corner out of fear of Scalia's sudden mood swings. Furthermore..."

It started raining heavily.

"What!" Bush shouted, "This is another act of defiance by God! Didn't He get my ultimatum? Scott! Where are you?"

"Scott's in the hospital, dear," Laura Bush told him, "He was struck by lightning on the way out of a cathedral. Quite odd, since it was a cloudless day."

Bush shrugged his shoulders. "Sometimes weather is random; what are ya gonna do?"

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.

"Man," President Bush groaned as he looked out the window, "I try to come here to the rustic charm of my Crawford ranch so I can play X-Box all day, but instead I keep getting bothered by protestors. What do they want now? Free booze?"

"It's Cindy Sheehan and a bunch of liberals," Laura Bush answered, "She's demanding to meet with you... again."

"What!" Bush yelled, "I'm the President of the United States of America! No one demands to meet with me. Why, if Chirac did that, I'd punch him right in ugly, smelly French face!"

"Well don't punch Mrs. Sheehan," Laura told him, "She's a grieving mother."

"She is?" Bush said, now feeling bad, "Well, I guess I can talk with her then."

"Maybe you should discuss that with your staff first," Laura suggested.

"Bah! If the American people elected me president - twice - it can only be assumed I'm the smartest man on the planet. Send me Sheehan!"

* * * *

"Horrible news!" Cindy Sheehan cried to her liberal entourage, "Bush has agreed to meet with me again! He wasn�t supposed to do that! What if it diffuses this whole thing! I wanted to keep standing out here and harping on him in front of the press for as long as possible! And it's not like I can refuse to meet him now; this is a disaster!"

Michael Moore turned away from the hotdog stand to face Sheehan. "You can always say you were insulted again by him and demand a third meeting� Oh! And I have an idea! Would it be okay with you if we dug up your son's corpse and waved it around in front of Bush?"

Sheehan thought for a moment. "Do you think it's what Casey would have wanted?"

"WHY WOULD I CARE ABOUT SOME BABY-KILLER'S OPINION!!!"

* * * *

"So, Agent Smith, you think we're okay for the meeting?" Bush asked the Secret Service Agent.

"Do you want me to tackle and pummel her if she slaps you?"

"You think she'll slap me?" Bush asked, surprised.

"It's possible."

Bush thought on that for a moment. "I'm a man; I can take a slap. No tackling or pummeling. We have press here and they'll have a field-day with that." He was silent for a few seconds, but then blurted out, "But, if she tries to stab or shoot me, maybe you should do something about that."

"Eh," Agent Smith answered, "I'll play it by ear."

Cindy Sheehan entered the room, and immediately Bush's face brightened up. "Hey! I remember you! We met before!"

"We did!" Sheehan screamed, "You were ru..."

"So, did what I tell you about getting rid of the ants work?" Bush asked, smiling.

"Well... yeah," Sheehan answered, a little thrown off, "but that's not the point..."

"I told you it would work, but you were skeptical." Bush chuckled. "So how is your husband?"

"He is very supportive of what I'm doing," Cindy asserted.

"That great!" Bush said enthusiastically, "How is the rest of the family?"

"I'm not talking to a lot of them since they voted for you in 2004!" she yelled angrily.

Bush smiled wider. "Wow, that's great to hear. Next time you see them, tell them I thank them for their support. I love my supporters."

Sheehan screamed. "Don't you understand that I hate you?!"

Bush was confused. "What? Why?"

"You murdered my son!"

Bush backed away from her. "You don't have any proof of that!" he shouted defensively, "Let's see ballistics match that bullet to any of my guns!"

"I mean he was in the Army and killed in Iraq," Sheehan said.

Bush started laughing. "Oh, now I get it. This was all just a mistake. This whole time you were blaming me for your son's death when he was actually killed by Shiites." Bush turned more serious. "If you want, I can get you a flight to Iraq so you can go yell at them."

"No!" Cindy shouted, "You murdered him by starting an unjust war based on lies!"

�I didn't lie!" Bush yelled, "There really are an Iraq and a Saddam Hussein! You can look it up!"

"No! I mean about WMDs! We know all about it from the Downing Street Memos!"

"What in the world are you talking about?" Bush asked, getting confused again.

"You and your Vice-President should be impeached! You stole you first election anyway! Now you and your neocons are making wars based on lies! You're the biggest terrorist... you and the Israelis, that is!"

Bush rolled his eyes. "Now you're bringing the Jews into this. You're just a regular left-wing nut, aren't you? No wonder you son joined the Army and went to Iraq; he was probably trying to get away from you!"

Cindy Sheehan started sobbing uncontrollably and ran out of the room. Bush then noticed the T.V. cameras. He turned to Agent Smith. "This isn't going to play well on the nightly-news, is it?"

"I only watch cable news, sir."

"Well, maybe another broad will disappear in Aruba and this story will get buried."

Agent Smith stared at President Bush for a moment. "You really are an insensitive bastard sometimes."

"Whatever; let's go play X-Box."

* * * *

Apologies to Casey Sheehan for making fun of your mother who I'm sure you love very much. You made a brave choice to put your life on the line when you re-enlisted at age 24, shortly before your death. It's because of people like you that we're able to have our blogs and our freedoms, and, while I can never repay you for your sacrifice, I will do my best to honor it throughout my life as a proud American.

"...and that's how I became quite certain I wanted to be a judge."

"That's great, you soon to be Supreme Court Justice you," Bush said while smiling as he ushered away John Roberts. When Roberts was gone, Bush ran to his press secretary. "I have a problem! My Supreme Court nominee is dead boring!"

"There certainly doesn't seem to be much controversy to him," Scott McClellan replied, looking a little confused. "I hear the New York Times is even trying to dig into his adoption records to try and find something to hit him with."

"Did they find anything scandalous?" Bush asked hopefully.

"No."

"Dagnabbit!" Bush exclaimed, "He's the most boring person ever! The Senate will never vote for anyone so boring!"

"Actually, it seems he's a lock to be approved by the Sen..."

Scott was silenced by a backhand to the face. "Don't you tell me how things are!" Bush yelled, "I'm the President and you're the Press Secretary! I tell you how things are and you parrot it back to others! Got it?"

"Okay! Could you stop hitting me at least?"

"Maybe." Bush answered. He then hit Scott. "Maybe not. Now help me find ways to make Roberts more interesting."

* * * *

"Do I really need these green highlights?" Roberts asked as he looked in the mirror.

"They go with the tattered leather jacket," Bush answered.

Roberts frowned. "With all this mousse and what not you put in my hair to make it spiky, I don't know if I'll ever be able to get my part back in the appropriate place."

"Only the old Roberts would worry about parting his hair," Bush declared, "but Robbie doesn't worry about things like that, 'cause he's one bad mo'fo'. By the way, you're now known as �Robbie.�"

"I don't know if I can get used to that," Roberts said, "and where is the helmet for the motorcycle you want me to ride?"

"Rebels don't wear helmets," Bush told him.

"This is going to set a bad example for my kids," Roberts griped.

"About your kids," Bush said, and then paused for a moment. "How do I put this delicately? Well... they suck. There's nothing going on with them at all. If you plan on having a third kid, definitely go with a new adoption agency."

"They're that bad?"

"Pretty much, but I'll see if I can do something with them." Bush turned to Scott. "Scott, teach his kids to talk sass."

"Define 'sass.'"

Bush backhanded Scott. "That's sass! Now make his kids interesting!"

Donald Rumsfeld then walked up to Bush. "I really have to talk to you about the War on Terror."

"I don't have time for terrorisms or Iraq or anything right now!" Bush exclaimed, "I'm trying to make my Supreme Court nominee look cool; I don't have time for other things!" Bush wrote out a note. "Here, Rummy; you're smart. Now you have full control of the military and don't have to consult with me."

"I even control the nukes?"

"Sure, whatever," Bush said, turning back to Roberts as Rumsfeld walked away laughing evilly.

"So what am I doing with the motorcycle again?" Roberts asked.

"You�re jumping through a hoop of fire," Bush answered, exasperated, "It doesn't get any simpler than that."

"That just seems so... dangerous."

Bush groaned. "It's like you don't even care about the Constitution."

"But I do."

"Then you're jumping through a hoop of fire, and you better get used to it!"

* * * *

"AIEEEEEE!" Roberts screamed as he ran around on fire.

Bush and Laura were sitting in bed watching the nightly news roundup. Laura looked at Bush sternly, who then said, "It's not as bad as it appears. Most of the burns are only second degree."

"When asked for comment," the anchorman stated, "John Roberts daughter said quote, 'My daddy is all burnt up. What else do you need to know, idiot?'"

"That's sounds like sass!" Laura exclaimed, "Did you teach his kids sass?"

"It was all Scott's doing! I swear!"

The phone then rang. Bush turned off the T.V. and answered the phone while grumbling about how late it was. "Hello, this is the President of the United States... Hey, Rummy, what's up? ...It doesn't matter if you still feel like nuking them; they gave you the 50 billion in gold... Yes, technically, the phrase, 'You will give me 50 billion in gold bars by the end of the day or I will rain nuclear destruction on you!' does not preclude you from raining nuclear destruction even if you get the gold, but most people assume that. If you nuke the Saudis now, they'll never trust me anymore." Bush hung up and then laid his head down to go to sleep. "Sometimes I think my administration is full of idiots."

"I would just like to say that the misdeeds of the Bush Administration can not go ignored!" Ted Kennedy said on the Senate floor, "He's like a drunkenness that overtakes us and causes us to careen off a bridge. Maybe we can get ourselves out of that car, but there are still others left, sinking inside. Calling the police would seem to some to be the best course of action, but that's not what I'm going to do. That's not what the American people would want. That's..."

A bell rung.

"RECESS!!!"

The Congress all cheered and ran out back to the Capitol playground. Some went for the swing sets while others played hop scotch. Another group played touch football.

"You tagged me too hard!" Voinovich yelled and then started crying.

"Give the ball back!" Frist yelled at Hillary.

"No! It's mine!" Hillary answered, running off.

Unknown to Congress, they were being watched from afar.

President Bush set down his binoculars. "Good, the fools are all at recess. It is time to unleash... THE BOLTON! Muh ha ha ha!"

"Are you mad?" Scott McClellan shouted, "He's been locked in there waiting for a vote for weeks now! He's gotten even crazier! He'll..."

Scott was silenced with a backhand to the face. "Quiet, fool!" Bush yelled. "Condi, will do the honors and release him?"

"Certainly," Condoleezza Rice answered as she smiled evilly. She then grabbed a rope connected to a lock on the steel doors. With a yank, the lock was undone. Suddenly, the iron doors were smashed open.

"Bolton smash!" Bolton screamed, his mustache bristling with anger, "Bolton destroy!"

"Control him!" Bush commanded Condi.

"You want to destroy the U.N.," Condi told Bolton in a soothing voice, "It's the U.N. you hate."

"Bolton... crush... U.N.!" Bolton shouted and then stomped off.

A red rubber ball landed near Bush's feet. Harry Reid then came running after it grumbling, "If Santorum was the one who kicked it so hard, he should have to go get it." Reid then saw Bush and Bolton storming off in the distance. "You appointed Bolton while we were at recess!" he shouted at Bush, "You're a doo-doo head! That's what you are!"

"Get back to recess," Bush answered as he picked up the ball, "I'll help you play." He threw the ball as hard as he could into Reid's face, knocking him to the ground and breaking his glasses. "There, you're out."

"We were playing kickball, not dodgeball," Reid cried. "You're the meanest President ever!"

"Throw him into the Pit of Doom!" Bush commanded Scott.

"We don't have a Pit of Doom."

"Then throw him into the... uh... Potomac."

"That's not really my job as Press Secretary..."

Bush smacked Scott again. "DO IT!"

* * * *

"The Bolton is coming!" Kofi Annan screeched, "Someone fill out the paperwork needed to allow guns to be fired in defense of the U.N."

The bureaucrats got hard at work. Kofi then handed the papers out to the armed guards instructing them on the two places they had to initial and where to sign and date at the bottom.

"Bolton destroy U.N.!" came a cry. Kofi looked out to see Bolton emerge from the water, walking in steady pace towards the U.N. Headquarters.

"Quick!" Kofi screamed, "Someone notarize those documents so we can begin shooting at him!"

A couple notary publics raced to stamp the documents. Then, the guard opened fire on Bolton.

This made Bolton so enraged he put his hand on his hips. He shouted, "'Stache Strength!" and then his mustached glowed until the glow covered all of Bolton. Now the bullets merely deflected off of him as he continued slowly walking towards the U.N. Headquarters.

"The Bolton is unstoppable!" screamed one aide.

"What do we do now?" a diplomat cried.

Kofi Annan stood still as he watched Bolton come ever closer. "We die."

* * * *

"In local news, a tubby man was seen throwing Senator Reid into the Potomac," the anchorwoman said, "Now back to our top story: The U.N. Headquarters, upon accepting Bolton as the U.S. Ambassador, has been reduced to a radioactive pile of rubble."

"Bolton 'reformed' the U.N. even quicker than I hoped," Bush laughed, "Muh ha ha ha!"

"No evil laughter in bed!" Laura shouted as she turned off the T.V.

"Sorry, dear."

"I want to introduce my new Supreme Court nominee," President Bush told his staff. John Roberts then walked into the room.

"That's not a woman!" Cheney shouted.

"And he looks pretty white," Alberto Gonzales said.

"I think he's a white man!" Condoleezza Rice exclaimed, "Did you know you nominated a white man?"

"Why? What?" Bush asked, quite confused.

"No one is more unpopular these days than white men," Cheney explained.

"But I'm a white man!" Bush responded.

"And you're not polling well right now," Condi stated, "but everyone loves me. I'm a black woman."

"And I'm a torturing Mexican," Alberto said, "I poll through the roof."

"I'm sure you'll all like me when you get to know me," John Roberts said.

"Wow! He's boring sounding!" Alberto declared, "You nominated a boring, stupid gringo, you boring, stupid gringo."

"Aww," Bush moaned, "I thought I picked a nominee good."

"Back in my day, white men did everything," grumbled Rumsfeld, "They even played basketball."

"That's not how things work now," Cheney said, "Dubya, just take your nominee in front of the press and you'll see."

* * * *

"So why did you think the best new nominee for the Supreme Court is some dumb cracker?" asked the first reporter.

"John Roberts has many great qualifications," Bush answered, pointing to John Roberts who stood next to him.

"But you will not deny that he is, in fact, a honkey?"

"Now, I think you'll all find I could make a great Supreme Court Justice if you just interview me," John Roberts said.

"Everyone get close!" a reporter shouted, "I bet he's about to say something extremist!"

The reporters all crowded around John Roberts. "Get those mikes away from me!" he yelled.

"He's against freedom of speech!" shrieked one reporter, "He thinks the freedom of speech is un-Constitutional!"

"That's not what I said," John Roberts stated indignantly.

"Be careful," cautioned another reporter, "I hear if you corner a white man and make him angry, he may lash out and sue!"

* * * *

"Bush's new Supreme Court Justice is one of the most destructive forces known," said the TV announcer as the screen showed scenes of devastation, "a white man! Not only has John Roberts taken the extreme position of being white man, but he also is against the environment, labor, children, and women. With him in the Supreme Court, he won't rest until all humanity is dead - except for the babies women didn't want! Tell the White House now that John Roberts is an unacceptable extremist and a cracker."

"That makes him seem at least a little interesting," Bush said as he turned off the T.V. and went to bed.

"I told you you should have nominated a woman," Laura responded.

Bush chuckled. "A woman judge; now that's wacky."

Somewhere in the former Soviet province of Communych, super-secret agent Joe Wilson's wife is suspended by wires over pressure sensitive tiles in the database of this evil country's headquarters. Unbeknownst to her, the phone rings in the other room.

"This is Karl Rove," said a mysterious voice on the other line, "Joe Wilson's wife is a CIA agent."

"Why does this concern us?" demanded the captain of the guards who answered the phone.

"I don't know," answered the voice with a chuckle, "Just telling everyone." Then the line went dead at the other end.

"One of the cameras is out," said a guard, "Is that a glitch?"

"No, I think I know why we got that phone call," said the guard captain, "We are being attacked by the mysterious agent known only as 'Joe Wilson's Wife.'"

"I thought she was just an urban legend," another guard, "I mean... other than that she posed in Vanity Fair."

The guard captain watched as more cameras went out. "I wish that were so."

"Well, we finally know her identity!" shouted a guard, "She�s the wife of Joe Wilson! What do we do?"

The power suddenly went out.

Unseen in the darkness, the captain took a sip a vodka. "Wait for death."

* * * *

"Karl Rove risked my wife's life by outing her as a CIA agent!" Joe Wilson yelled at President Bush.

"I understand your anger," Bush said, "but still..." Bush took out a bat and hit Joe Wilson in the stomach, causing him to fall to the ground and curl up in a ball. "...you're a partisan hack � you only got to come talk to me because your wife recommended it - and, when I meet a partisan hack face-to-face, I hit him with a bat. That's my policy, Joey. Now crawl out of here before you vomit on the Oval Office carpet!"

Once Joe Wilson was outside, Bush called out, "Rover, did you really rat on Joe Wilson's wife?"

The hooded figure of Karl Rove emerged from the shadows. "My ways are mysterious."

"You rascal," Bush chuckled, "Well, hopefully there won't be any political fallout."

Scott McClellan ran into the Oval Office. "The press keep hounding me about Rove! I don't know what to do! It's just question after question after question..."

Scott was silenced by a baseball bat to his gut which caused him to fall to the floor and curl up in a ball.

Dick Cheney entered the office and stepped over Scott. "This is trouble. We need get the press off of this subject."

"Maybe I could fire Karl Rove," Bush suggested.

Rove pointed at Bush and there was a low rumbling noise. Bush then started choking.

"On... ack... second thought... ergh... that's a bad idea."

Rove lowered his hand and Bush rubbed his sore throat. "I know!" he finally exclaimed, "I'll eat and eat and eat until I become the World's Fattest Man! That will push this all out of the headlines." Bush ran from the room.

Cheney looked to Rove. "We never did give him the actual nuclear launch codes, right?"

* * * *

"Mmm... ice cream!" Bush said between shoveling ice cream into his mouth.

"George!" Laura exclaimed as she entered the kitchen, "What are you doing eating so much ice cream?" She then turned suspicious. "Are you trying to become the World's Fattest Man again to distract from a political scandal?"

"No; are you?" he shot back.

Once Bush picked himself up the floor, he said more calmly, "How about I compromise and just become the fattest President. I forget; would I be aiming to become fatter than Taft or Bill Clinton?"

"You should go out and talk to the press like a real president," Laura said as she rubbed her knuckles.

"Aww... all right."

* * * *

"So, go ahead and ask your dumb questions you stupids," Bush told the press.

"I'm from the New York Times and..." A bat to the reporter's stomach caused him to fall to the ground and curl up in a ball. Everyone looked on in shock.

"What?" Bush demanded, setting back down the bat, "Didn't I explain to you all what happens when I meet a partisan hack face-to-face?"

Part I

* * * *

Bush walked into the Senate chambers. "So how is the hearing on making Chomps the next Supreme Court Justice?" he asked, "I think the world's angriest dog would really balance out the decisions."

"He's responding to all our questions by viciously mauling Ted Kennedy!" shouted a frustrated Harry Reid.

"Is that true, Chomps?" Bush asked the rottweiler.

Chomps responded by leaping at Ted Kennedy and savagely biting him.

"If we have someone that vicious in the Supreme Court," George Voinovich said, "I fear for my grandchildren and..." He then broke down crying.

"No crying!" Bush shouted, "And that goes for you too, Dick Durbin!"

"You can't tell me what to do, you Nazi!" Senator Durbin yelled back. He then started crying. "I'm sorry if you misinterpreted that in a way that was hurtful." Chomps then jumped Durbin and started biting him.

"See, he's attacking Durbin now," Bush pointed out, "That's progress, right?"

"We don't want him attacking anyone!" Reid answered.

"But that's how he communicates," Bush said, "He's just a dog."

"And I don't even know if a dog is allowed to become a Supreme Court Justice."

"What does the Constitution say about that?" Bush asked.

Chomps responded by savagely attacking Ted Kennedy.

"I wasn't asking you," Bush clarified.

"We haven't been able to check because our copy of the Constitution we had here was savagely ripped apart," Reid said.

"Chomps, did you do that?" Bush asked the dog sternly.

Chomps responded to the question by savagely biting Ted Kennedy.

"Actually, it was Ruth Bader Ginsburg," Senator Frist stated.

"See, I want a Supreme Court Justice who will savagely rip apart Ted Kennedy and not the Constitution," Bush declared.

"Well, I don't think this vicious animal is worthy of being a Supreme Court Justice!" Reid asserted.

Chomps walked up to Reid and growled.

Reid jumped on a desk and defensively shouted, "So what is your opinion on Roe v. Wade?"

Chomps responded to the question by savagely biting Ted Kennedy.

* * * *

"It is believed by many that Bush's Supreme Court nominee, Chomps the World Angriest Dog, has an anger problem," said the anchorwoman, "This is supported by the fact that he is in the Guinness Book of World Records as the World's Angriest Dog, that numerous psychologist say he has a brain imbalance causing a rage problem, that everyone who know the dog describes him as 'extremely angry,' and that no one has been able to obtain any footage of Chomps where is not acting extremely angry."

Cheney turned away from the TV to look at Bush. "Of all the idiotic things you've done as president, nominating that psychotic rottweiler to the Supreme Court has to be one of the most entertaining."

"I just think that dogs haven't gotten enough representation in government," Bush answered, "Isn't that right, Barney?"

"Yipe! Yipe!" the Scottish terrier replied.

"Let's see how he does on This Week with George Stephanopoulos," Cheney said.

On screen was Chomps alone at a table.

"Where's Snufalufagus?" Bush asked.

Chomps coughed up a shoe.

"He swallowed him!" Cheney shouted, "That's going to be bad publicity!"

"It's not Chomps's fault," Bush stated, "Snufalufagus is just so small he couldn't help but swallow him."

* * * *

"What's up, Rummy?" Bush asked as he entered Rumsfeld's house.

"What have you been doing with my dog?" Rumsfeld demanded.

"I've been trying to make him a Supreme Court Justice."

"I don't want him to be some fruity judge!" Rumsfeld yelled, "And what have you been feeding him?"

Chomps made some coughing sounds in another room. Then George Stephanopoulos came running out of the house screaming, "Aieee!"

"Greek food," Bush answered.

Rumsfeld walked into the library to find Chomps reading a book of Supreme Court decisions, viciously ripping apart the majority decision or dissent in each one. "Bad dog!" Rumsfeld yelled as he hit Chomps on the nose with a rolled up newspaper, "The only thing you should be concerned about is scaring away the neighborhood kids." Chomps barked at Rumsfeld and then ran out of the house. Rumsfeld then looked to Bush. "And you stay away from my dog or I'll rip off your arms and legs and beat you with them!"

"Will the doctors be able to reattach them afterwards?" Bush asked in panic.

Rumsfeld took a drink from a flask of whiskey. "Not my concern."

* * * *

"Now I need to find another Supreme Court nominee," Bush complained as he lay in bed next to Laura.

"Just listen to your staff and that scary Karl Rove this time and don't pick out any angry dogs," Laura told him.

Bush laid his head on his pillow and closed his eyes. After a few moments, he sprung up. "You know, I saw this one monkey at the zoo who might..."

"Go to sleep!"

THE END

"Man, now I got to pick a new Supreme Court Justice �cause that stupid broad had to retire," President Bush moped, "That sounds hard."

"When you're President, sometimes you have to do things that are hard," Laura told him.

"So, let me get this straight: The Supreme Court is just like a regular court but with sour cream and diced tomatoes?"

Laura sighed. "You're thinking of a taco supreme, dear."

"So the Court Supreme is completely different?"

"Yes, the Supreme Court is completely different."

"Well, I guess I should stick to what I said and appoint someone just like Antonin Scalia," Bush declared.

"But the only place you'd find someone that rabidly conservative is an insane asylum."

"Aw, I don't want to go there." Bush looked to Laura with a smile. "Want to be a Supreme Court Justice?"

"No, I'm busy enough cleaning up your messes here at the White House," Laura answered, "Now why don't you try and find someone from your staff."

* * * *

Bush found Alberto Gonzales checking more things off as "not torture." "You want to be a Supreme Court Justice?" Bush asked him.

"I think the conservative base doesn't like me," Alberto said, and then flicked out his switchblade. "I think I'll cut them!"

"Why wouldn't they like you?" Bush asked, "What is your position on unborn children?"

Alberto swung his blade around. "I cut them!"

"I can see how that won't play well with the base."

"Then I cut you!"

"Aieee!" Bush screamed as Alberto chased him.

* * * *

"Hey, Rummy, would you..."

Donald Rumsfeld pulled out a .45 and started firing at Bush, who ducked behind the wall and crawled along the ground as bullets ripped through the drywall.

"I guess I'll talk to you when you're less busy!"

* * * *

"Aw, my staff is violent and mean," Bush groaned to Laura.

"You were the one who hired them," Laura said.

"A lot of them Cheney made me hire, or he said he'd hit me."

"You shouldn't let Cheney hit you." Laura tried to pull a comforter away from Chomps who then ripped it apart. "That was from the Lincoln bedroom!" Laura yelled, "You have to find a way to keep Rumsfeld's rottweiler out of here!"

* * * *

"I would like to unveil my new Supreme Court Justice nominee," Bush told the press.

"It looks like you just threw a blanket over a dog... and it's making him angry," said a reporter.

"Very angry," added another reporter.

Bush looked at the form barking and snapping its jaws under the blanket. "Come to think of it, I don't want to unveil him while I'm still in sight."

Chomps tore a hole through the blanket and looked at all around him with fury.

"Nomination hearings start soon!" Bush yelled as he ran as fast as he could.

TO BE CONTINUED...

"And out guest today on Meet the Press is Karl Rove," Tim Russert announced. He then looked around. "Where is he?"

There was a sudden power outage. When the lights came back on, there was the hooded figure of Karl Rove seated next to Russert.

"There you are," Russert said. "You've angered many Democrats with your remarks suggesting that liberals do not support military action to protect America. Do you think such anger is justified?"

"Their anger concerns me not," Rove answered, "They are fools who will soon be destroyed. Traitors, all of them, and the road to our victory will be lined with their entrails!"

Senator Chuck Schumer screamed at the television. "He can't say things like that! We have to get back at this Karl Rove!"

Schumer's aide walked in. "I just got a call saying there will be a meeting by us liberals about Karl Rove in a mountain lair."

"Then let's head there right away!" Schumer shouted, grabbing his coat.

* * * *

Soon Schumer was far in the mountains in a brick made lair. Inside were many liberals, most of whom he recognized. "So did you MoveOn.org people organize this meeting?" Schumer asked.

"No, we thought you did."

Suddenly the doors and windows all slammed shut, a few torches the only light in the building. "Muh ha ha ha!" echoed an ungodly laugh.

"What is this!"

"Fools!" yelled a voice that seemed to come from nowhere, "You ran so readily into my trap."

"Karl Rove!"

"Yes, it is I, and now you are trapped in my lair of horror! Soon, you will yearn for the torments of hell! Muh ha ha ha!"

All those inside screamed, but no earthly being could hear their voices.

* * * *

Scott McClellan looked up from his talking points to President Bush. "Ever wonder what Karl Rove does for fun?"

"No."

"Hold the ladder steady, idiot!" Bush yelled as he waved his hammer.

"Shouldn't other people be doing this?" Scott McClellan questioned as he tried to hold the ladder outside the entrance to the Senate chambers.

"If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself," Bush answered as he continued his work. "I wonder if Durbin's apology will have any effect on the crazies he stirred up?"

* * * *

"Even one of their own Senators say they are like Nazis!" yelled one Muslim, "We are justified in killing the Americans and those who support them!"

The others Muslims nodded in angry agreement.

One Muslim came running up to the others. "Senator Dick Durbin apologized for his remarks!"

"Then it's not true that the Americans are like Nazis!" said one.

"We've been misdirecting our anger all along," said another.

"From now on, let's love and support America," proclaimed the head of the mob, "but, first, let's head to McDonald's and declare jihad... on our appetites!"

* * * *

"You know, I spoke very forcefully against Sen. Durbin's remarks," Scott said proudly.

"Yeah, but no one listens to you, Tubby," Bush answered as he continued hammering. "Now I just hope we can put this whole Gitmo debate behind us."

The hooded figure or Karl Rove emerged from the shadows. "Your poll numbers are down. This does not bode well."

"So what, Rover?" Bush replied, "Not like I'm running for anything."

"But we must keep people supporting you so they shall support all Republicans in turn. Then the Republican takeover can be complete and the prophecy fulfilled."

"I don't see why my poll numbers are dropping," Bush said, "I'm a real likeable guy and..." Bush spotted someone walking by and quickly leaped down from the ladder and grabbed him, slamming him up against the wall. "Thought you could sneak by me, huh?" Bush yelled in anger.

"No! No!" Senator Frist replied.

Bush slammed his hammer into the wall right next to Frist's head. "I want my up or down vote on Bolton! You hear me!"

"I'll get it for you! I promise!"

"You better! Or I'll just kill you and get myself a new Majority Leader in the Senate!"

Bush let go of Frist who quickly ran off. Bush then climbed back up the ladder. "As I was saying, I'm a likeable guy. Only people who are stupid and dumb would be against me. I think I'll go on the air and say that. People don't like being called stupid and dumb." Bush then grumbled to himself, "I know I hate it."

Rove sighed an unholy sigh and faded back into the shadows. Bush went back to work, but then stopped when he heard a strange noise. "What's that?"

"Conyers had so much fun doing a mock impeachment hearing," Scott explained, "that him and friends are now on the Capitol steps doing a full production of Rent."

"Sometime I think I'm the only sane one here." After a little bit more hammering, Bush climbed down the ladder to look at his work. Over the entrance to the Senate chambers was the sign, "NO CRYING ALLOWED."

"So that's it, then?" Scott asked.

"Yep," Bush answered, "I thought it was important to get that up before the vote on Bolton. One more Senator crying, and no one will ever respect America again. That's why I put this sign up... to help with our effort in the war!"

"Speaking of that," Scott said, "there were some issues I know Condi wanted to discuss with you on..."

"Bah!" Bush interrupted, "That's enough work for one day. Now let's go goof-off and eat Doritos like a jailed dictator."

"Whatcha doing, Rummy?" President Bush asked.

"I'm writing a list of foreign leaders in the order I want them... uh... what's that word we use? Oh yeah... 'regime changed.' What's wrong about the word 'assassinate' anyway?"

"It's got that 'ass' in there and thus just doesn't appeal to people with family values," Bush answered. He then noticed the news playing on a T.V. nearby.

"Howard Dean's recent comments comparing anyone who ever thought of voting Republican to a pedophile have been called divisive by some," said the anchorman, "but Dean's supporters - now in the dozens if you don't include those committed to insane asylums - say he's just given the Democrats the strong voice they need."

"It's like Howard Dean is part of some insidious plot to destroy the Democratic Party," Bush mused. "Hey, Rover, you�re insidious; is this your plot?"

The hooded figure of Karl Rove emerged from the shadows. "I wish I could take credit for such terrible destruction of the enemy, but I had no involvement with this."

"Then it must be someone else insidious!" Bush declared, "I know - Hilary Clinton!"

"That would make no sense," Rove answered, "She needs the Democratic party for her evil, power-grabbing plans."

"Then who else could be behind this?"

"The internet was responsible for a lot of Howard Dean's popularity, and..."

"The internet!" Bush shouted, "I knew it! It's responsible for all the evil in the world. Now I need to get to the bottom of this Dean conspiracy!"

"Actually, the best strategy when your enemy is destroying itself is to stand back," Rove cautioned.

"But if the Democrats completely destroy themselves," Bush replied, "then it will be a one-party system... just like with the Communists. Then I'll be just like Chairman Mao... but I don't want to be Chairman Bush! I like being President Bush."

"I don't believe you're thinking rationally," Rove said.

"Not thinking rationally is what I do best!" Bush declared. "It's time I save the Democrats. You coming along, Rummy?"

"I'm busy, Moron," Donald Rumsfeld replied as he decided where to fit the French names on his list.

"Fine. I'll just drag along Scott as usual. He never has anything to do."

* * * *

"I always have things to do," Scott McClellan whined, "I have to explain to the press why the idiotic things you do are not idiotic."

"And I got a great replacement for you."

* * * *

"A magic eight ball?" exclaimed one of the reporters.

"I have the first question," said another as he picked up the black orb and shook it, "Will Bush agree to closing down Abu Grahib?" He turned the eight ball over and looked at the answer. "No."

"Now me," said yet another reporter as he grabbed the ball. "Will Bush still push for private accounts for Social Security?" He looked at the answer. "'Reply hazy, try again." The reported chucked the eight ball. "Stupid, slippery politicians!"

* * * *

"If we're going to fit in with angry liberals, we should have brought Rumsfeld's angry dog," Bush said. "They'd like him."

"He always bites me," Scott complained.

Bush laughed. "Yeah, that's funny."

"And why do you always get the porn star mustache disguise?"

"Be happy Alberto Gonzales lent you a poncho and sombrero to go with your Mexican mustache," Bush answered, "Now work on your accent while I work on my porn star attitude. We have to completely infiltrate these crazy lefties."

They worked their way into the crowed. "I hate working and like smelling bad," Bush said, introducing himself to one of the crazed liberals.

"Quiet!" he shot back, "Dean is about to speak."

Howard Dean walked out onto the stage, and there was a hushed awe among the crowd. Dean then started pounding the podium like a madman while screaming, "Rergerraw! Cerblergargh! Dean smash! Ragawerghaergh!"

"He says what we think!" squealed a liberal.

"I just want to say that back in the eighties, I voted for Reagan," yelled out one man, "but now I'm back with the Democrats and glad we can have someone who can speak with such energy!"

"He voted for a Republican!" Dean screamed, his face growing red with anger, "We don't want his kind here! Rip him apart! Kill! Kill!"

The other liberals descended on the one man, and blood began to splatter everywhere.

"We better be extra careful at not revealing ourselves, senor," Scott said with great worry.

"Horsefeathers!" Bush exclaimed, "We need to find who is behind Dean!"

"Can't you just accept the fact that he's a loon supported by other loons?" Scott pleaded.

"I never accept facts!" Bush declared. He then pulled off his porn star mustache and faced Dean. "It is I, President Bush, and I demand to know who pulls your strings!"

Dean flailed his hands in the air in rage. "Republican President! Kill! Kill!"

The liberals surrounded Bush and Scott, murder in their eyes. "Looks like we're going to be killed by crazed liberals, amigo," Scott said, "Not the obituary I wanted."

"We're progressives!" one shouted, becoming even more blood-thirsty.

Suddenly, a number of liberals were thrown out of the way. There in their midst now stood Chomps.

"Rumsfeld's dog has come to save us!" Scott exclaimed, "He'll... OW! GET HIM OFF MY LEG!"

"Hah! That's funny!" Bush laughed.

Howard Dean jumped down into the crowd and roared in anger. Chomps then faced him and growled the growl of The Guinness Book of World Record's angriest dog. Then they clashed.

"It�s our time to escape!" Bush said as he ran away.

"Wait for me!" Scott cried, limping.

"Each man for himself!" Bush answered.

"But I have the car keys!"

Bush ran back and put his arm around Scott to help him. He then quickly slipped the keys out of Scott's pocket and ran off again, causing Scott to fall to the ground. "Each man for himself!"

"No pay is worth this," Scott grumbled.

* * * *

Rumsfeld sat in his easy chair and worked on his list of foreign leaders. "So many foreigners who should not breathe our air," Rumsfeld growled.

Chomps came through the dog door and yawned an angry yawn.

"Tired out from kill'n, huh?" Rumsfeld asked.

Chomps curled up and went into an angry sleep.

"Might as well get some rest," Rumsfeld said, putting down his list. "Always more to destroy tomorrow."

"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!"

Part I
Part II

* * * *

"Pamphlets!" President Bush exclaimed.

"Yes, pamphlets," Laura Bush responded, "Before blogging and even T.V. and radio, people got out their own opinions by pamphlets. You can hand out pamphlets saying blogging is a good thing to fight against that mean mainstream media."

"Fine," Bush groaned as he took some pamphlets and walked outside. Soon he saw a man walk by him so he handed one out saying, "Here, take this pamphlet and learn about how blogging is really a good thing."

"Are you a blogger?" the man asked as he tepidly took the pamphlet.

"I do it as a hobby," Bush answered, "My day job is president of a major country."

"Which one?"

"The United States of America."

The man's eyes lit up. "I live in that country!"

"Then you've probably seen me before," Bush replied cheerily, "on either T.V. or a ballot."

"You do seem familiar."

"Yep. I live in that house back there." Bush pointed to the White House.

"I thought Bill Clinton lived there."

"He used to," Bush said angrily, "and you can't believe the cleaning bill after he moved out. They really should make presidents pay a deposit when they move in. Anyway, have a great day."

"You too. I'll read this pamphlet, and you have good luck running the U.S.A.," the man said before walking off.

"This is going well," Bush said. He then saw Rumsfeld was nearby. "How are you doing handing our pamphlets, Rummy?"

"Fine," Rumsfeld grumbled. He then forced a pamphlet into the hand of someone as he passed near. "Read this and make its opinion your own," Rumsfeld shouted, "or I'll murder you and your family! Rarr!"

"I don't think you can get away with threatening to murder people all the time," Bush told Rumsfeld.

"Says who?!" Rumsfeld demanded as he glowered at Bush threateningly.

"Not me!" Bush shrieked and went back to quietly handing out pamphlets.

* * * *

"Due to a large pamphleteering campaign," said the anchorman, "not authorized by us, your trusted mainstream media, citizens have gone back to believing that blogs are a good thing, despite polling telling them they don't actually think that. In a stunning move, President Bush has given a full pardon to blogger Glenn Reynolds for his cross country shoot out with the police, a move supported by bloggers across the world but very unpopular to law students at the University of Tennessee. There have been some implications that quid pro quo was involved, as Bush received what is called an 'Instalanche' to his own blog, Dubya Explains It All, right after issuing the pardon. White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan denied these charges, but we remind viewers that he is tubby."

The Newsweek editor turned off the T.V. in the dark media lair. "If people are listening to bloggers again, how are we going to viciously slander Bush and his administration?" he exclaimed.

"We'll leave that to the Emperor of the Media," said another media mogul.

"Is he coming here?"

"I already am," answered an unearthly voice. The Newsweek editor turned to see a decrepit old man in a hooded cloak walking forward to take his seat at his throne. "We shall turn the bloggers to the dark side of pretended unbiased reporting. First, we shall start with the blogger known as Dubya."

"How can we get to him?"

"He shall come to me," the emperor answered, "This I have foreseen."

"Foreseen?"

"I sent him a coupon saying he could get a free steak dinner here. Muh ha ha ha!"

* * * *

"My blog is really getting popular," Bush said, "I have lots of readers listening to everything I say about how great a job I'm doing as president."

"That's great, dear," Laura answered.

"I even got sent a coupon for a free steak dinner!"

"Be careful about that," Laura warned, "You know how often the promise of a free steak dinner has been used to lead you into a trap."

"Well, one of these days it has to not be a trap," Bush asserted.

"Fine, but, if the place this coupon says to go for the steak dinner is a hollowed out volcano, you be extra careful. And make sure to take some Secret Service with you."

"No, they're always freaking me out with how they talk into their sleeves and stuff." Bush then headed to his car and drove away from the White House. He followed the directions on the coupon until he came to a volcano just outside of D.C. "Hmm," Bush thought to himself, "It is a volcano, but I can't be sure it's hollowed out until I go inside for my free steak dinner!"

* * * *

The guards led Bush to the emperor. "He was armed only with this," one guard said as he set a katana at the side of the emperor's throne.

"I've been carrying one ever since I saw Matrix: Revolutions," Bush said, "Morpheus is so cool! Now where is my free steak dinner?" He then noticed the Newsweek editor was standing next to the emperor. "Hey! You're that guy who says I'm for flushing Korans down the toilet and lots of other slander that I don't have the time or attention span to read!" He then looked to the emperor. "But who are you?"

The emperor motioned for the guards to leave. "I am the originator of all media bias. For all the papers and T.V. shows that turned their reporting against you, it was at my bidding."

"I should murder you dead for that!" Bush exclaimed. He then looked at his katana that was in easy reach.

"Yessss," the emperor hissed, "I am unarmed; take you weapon and strike me down like we in the media strike down whomever we please. Then your journey to the dark side of reporting will be complete."

Bush thought for a moment. "I think that reverse psychology thing is having an effect, 'cause now I'm thinking maybe I shouldn�t strike you down."

"How typical," the emperor said, "I'd expect that from someone who went AWOL."

"I never went AWOL!" Bush shouted as he grabbed his katana and swung the blade at the emperor. It was stopped by the Newsweek editor's own sword. The two then began to fiercely battle as the emperor laughed.

"You are weak!" the Newsweek editor yelled, "And I'm going to have a cover story about it!"

"I'll cut out your heart and flush it down the toilet!" Bush answered. Soon, Bush overpowered the Newsweek editor, knocking the sword from his hand. The editor lay on the ground, now at Bush's mercy.

"Good!" the emperor shouted, "Finish him and take his place at my side, destroying anyone who has opinions contrary to ours!"

Bush was quiet for a moment. He then tossed away his sword and faced the emperor. "No. My job is to police the media, not to destroy it. For I am a blogger, like my blogfather before me."

The emperor scowled. "So be it." He then quickly snapped a picture of Bush. "Ha! Your mouth was open during that picture and you look like a fool! I'll use it with a story claiming you were involved with illegal campaign fundraising!"

"You media people are crazy," Bush stated, "If I'm not getting a free steak dinner, I'm going to go get myself a burger and fries."

* * * *

"So they tried to turn me to the dark side of reporting," Bush said as he finished his fries, "but I resisted."

"I'm very proud," Laura responded, "Just for that, I'm going to make you brownies."

"Hooray!"

As Laura left the Oval Office, Vice President Cheney entered. "The staff has been talking it over, and you have to stop blogging," he told Bush, "We decided it�s too risky as you might post secret information since... you know... you're an idiot."

"I guess so," Bush answered, "but at least I learned an important lesson from all this."

"What?"

Bush thought for a few seconds. "Okay, I didn't learn anything. Anyhoo, I'm going to flip a coin to decide whether we attack Iran or North Korea next. You call it in the air, Dick." Bush flipped a quarter.

"Heads!"

Bush caught the coin. "It's tails." He was silent for moment. "Wait; what does that mean?"

THE END

Part I

* * * *

The evil media moguls sat at the meeting room in the hollowed out Volcano just outside of Atlanta.

"The bloggers call us arrogant and biased!" complained one, "but being dismissive to those right-wing nuts hasn't quieted those charges."

"We even got our own bloggers out there to push forward our psychotic, left-wing agenda," said another, "such as Markos Zuniga of Daily Kos."

"Zuniga blog good!" Zuniga cried out as he danced around, "Now give Zungia cookie!"

A cookie was thrown on to the ground, and Zuniga eagerly grabbed it and gobbled it up.

"How much has he helped?" the Newsweek editor asked.

"He's less than useless."

"Well, we were planning to do a whole series on Koran flushings," the Newsweek editor said, "but with the current atmosphere of people actually checking whether or not what we say is true, we can't do it. I have a new plan, though, to discredit all the bloggers, and I'll need all your help. Muh ha ha ha!"

* * * *

"...and that completes the list of congressmen I'm pretty sure are gay," Bush read aloud before clicking to publish his new blog post.

Laura came by the door of the Oval Office. "Shouldn't you be at a meeting?"

"Too busy blogging," Bush answered, "I think I'm going to hit over a hundred visitors today. It's weird; I find the more often I check my sites for visits, the more I have."

"I also have a question on your clothing choice," Laura continued, "Ronald Reagan had so much respect for the Oval Office that he never took his suit jacket off while in it. Clinton also followed Reagan's lead, but he wasn't as strict on keeping his pants on while in here. But you - you're wearing pajamas."

"I'm showing my solidarity with other bloggers," Bush said, standing up and proudly showing his pajamas adorned with duckies.

Cheney ran into the room and turned on the T.V. "You have to see this."

"It better be a cartoon," Bush answered.

On T.V. stood a scholarly looking person talking to a reporter. "My conclusive study shows exactly how disturbed bloggers are," the professor said, "Bloggers, on average, are prone to violence, dementia, and drinking smoothies made from cute animals. Just think about it; with all the quality news and opinion given by the mainstream media, who would want to express his or her own voice? An extremely crazed and dangerous individual; that's who."

"So, should we fear bloggers?" the reporter asked.

"Most definitely. They must be hunted down and stopped before they destroy society. Now, they'll probably respond to all this by charging that I don't have any actual credentials, that my study if flawed, and my data is made up..."

"Is any of that true?" the reporter inquired.

"That's not the point! The point is that bloggers should not be listened too!"

"This guy is appearing on all the newscasts," Cheney told Bush.

"Everyone is going to think I'm a nut since I have a blog." Bush turned to the door. "Scott!" he shouted.

White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan came running. "What do you need?"

"Tell the press I'm not crazy."

"But they never listen to me," Scott whined, "and they call me 'fatty'."

"That's because you're fat," Bush responded, "Now go!" Bush started typing on his computer. "Now I have to blog harder than ever before to answer these charges. Laura, you help me, because you're better at writing death threats than I am."

* * * *

"Most people, not sure what blogs are, are turning against bloggers," said anchorman, "They're trusting people like me, who have great hair, compared to deranged individuals you can't see the hair of. Now, with reports that President Bush has a blog, even Republicans are turning against him - and not just media whores like Hagel."

Senator Bill Frist appeared on screen. "If the President really is a deranged blogger, then maybe he is wrong on his court nominees and social security and even the war."

Senator Rick Santorum was next on screen. "I'm against all unnatural things, whether it be sodomy or blogging."

"In an effort to protect the public," the anchorman continued, "the police are rounding up the most dangerous bloggers. At the University of Tennessee, law professor Glenn Reynolds of Instapundit.com was told to surrender, to which he answered, 'Heh.' When asked if this was going to lead to a violent confrontation, he answered, 'Indeed.' Currently, Reynolds is at the highest point at the University of Tennessee, shooting at police cars."

Bush turned off the T.V. "Now I'll never get a link from Instapundit!" He checked his laptop. "No, he's still posting. Must have brought a wireless laptop along with his sniper rifle. Isn't technology wonderful!"

The hooded figure of Karl Rove emerged from the shadows. "It is prophesized in the Book of Punditry that a sphere will threaten those who try to control the flow of the stream of knowledge, but, if the masses turn against the sphere, then the leader of the elephants will fall."

"That's it then!" Bush declared, "I have to prove to everyone that, even though I blog, I'm not a crazed individual. And the best way to do that..." Bush put on his gun belt. "...is to slaughter everyone who disagrees with me."

"I might have a better idea," Laura declared.

"Aww!" Bush groaned, "Not another solution to a problem that doesn't involve violence!"

TO BE CONCLUDED...

"Mace Rumsfeld, how can you justify the attack on Geonosis when there was no attack by them against us first?" asked a reporter.

A low rumbling was heard, and all the press grasped at their throats and fell dead to the ground.

"These press conferences take too long," Mace Rumsfeld grumbled.

* * * *

In a world of betrayal...

"We can only defeat the evil Anti-Trade Federation if we have a united front at home," Dubya Skywalker said, "That means getting good judges into the galactic judiciary."

"Uh-oh," Obi Wan Cheney grumbled, "Just look at the holo-television."

On screen was Jar-Jar Hagel talking to the press. "Meesa not so sure meesa support Skywalker. Meesa thinks the 'thermal-detonator' option is too harsh. Meesa maverick."

Dubya Skywalker drew his lightsaber. "I'LL MURDER HIM DEAD!"

* * * *

...in a world of doubt...

Obi Wan Cheney heard the sound of jetpack behind him and turned just in time to draw his lightsaber and block multiple laser blasts. Floating above him was the infamous liberal reporter, Jango Fett. "You will answer questions about how this war is all about your tibanna gas interests."

"Go to hell," Obi Wan Cheney responded, "and you can quote me on that."

Jango Fett shot out a cord that wrapped around Cheney and then fired his jetpack, dragging Cheney along the ground.

"This can't be good for my heart..."

* * * *

...in a world of growing darkness...

"I don't know who I can trust, Master Yoda," Dubya Skywalker pleaded.

"Mmm, fallen to the Democrat side many have," Yoda answered, "Weak and whiny its powers are, but with it much favorable press attention does come."

* * * *

...in a world of enemies...

"I know you've fallen to the Democrat side, Count Reid," Dubya Skywalker declared, "and are helping the Anti-Trade Federation. You better turn now before you end up like Darth Daschle."

"Perhaps we can make some sort of compromise," Count Reid offered.

"I'll compromise..." Bush drew his lightsaber, "after I MURDER YOU DEAD!"

* * * *

...a hero must step forth.

"I am ready, Yoda," Dubya Skywalker said. "Make me a Jedi Master,"

"Too perilous for you to face the Sith Witch, Darth Rodham," Yoda answered, "And ready you are not. Too impulsive you are. Stupid you be. Even worse with grammar than I is you. Plus, too emotional you are."

"Emotional!" Dubya Skywalker screamed, "I'LL MURDER ALL YOU JEDI DEAD!"

* * * *

"Kill them! Kill them all!" the hooded figure of Darth Rove screamed.

"I dunno; I have a bad feeling about this," Dubya Skywalker said. "And there's a question I've been meaning to ask you for a while: Are you evil?"

"No, young Jedi," Darth Rove answered, smiling a jagged smile, "Why would you think such a thing?"

"Because you're always plotting and advising me to slaughter everyone."

Darth Rove let out a bone-chilling laugh. "I only have your best interests in mind." A cute little puppy walked by, and Darth Rove shot out lighting from his finger tips and fried it, laughing insanely the whole time.

"Well, as long as we're clear on you not being evil," Dubya Skywalker said as he walked off.

* * * *

"This is it!" Dubya Skywalker yelled, "Obi Wan Cheney, you fight the Jedi fallen to the Democrat side. Mace Rumsfeld, you hold off the droid armies. I'll take on Darth Rodham."

Dubya Skywalker and Obi Wan Cheney drew their lightsabers, but Mace Rumsfeld just stood there. "Back when I was young, Jedi didn't have these fancy little glow sticks," Mace Rumsfeld grumbled, "We did fine beating off evil with a stick."

"Just fight the droids, Mace Rumsfeld," Obi Wan Cheney pleaded.

"Bah! I'm tired and I'm taking a nap."

* * * *

"Foolish Jedi!" screeched Darth Rodham, "You cannot stop me! Soon I�ll manipulate the public to accept me as their leader, and the galaxy will be under my control!"

Dubya Skywalker stood his ground, holding his lightsaber ready. "Not if I MURDER YOU DEAD!"

A low rumbling was heard, and then a lamp flew through the air and struck Dubya Skywalker in the face.

"Son of a..."

* * * *

STAR OPERATION FREEDOMS - COMING SOON TO A THEATER NEAR YOU!

* * * *

"Now, I'll answer questions for Dubya Skywalker," C3P-McClellan said, "and, I remind you, I'm fluent in over 6 million forms of communication."

"How does Dubya Skywalker give comfort to the families of the clone troopers sent out in this deadly and unneeded war?" asked one reporter.

"Well, since they're clones, they don't have families. Next question."

"Rarrrrgerrwar!" asked the reporter from the Kashyyyk Daily.

"I don't think there is any reason to bring up Abu Grahib again," C3P-McClellan answered, "Anyway, those were dismantled droid troopers in those photos."

"Currently, planet Usa is in violation of a number of provisions laid out by the United Planets by it having more than one distinct climate. Are there any plans to address that?"

"It is being discussed at this time," C3P-McClellan replied, "Any other questions?"

"How do you respond to charges that the previous two administrations really sucked in comparison to the next three administrations?"

"Huh?"

Bush sat at his desk, tapping his fingers on the surface. "Bored. Bored. Bored," he muttered. "Hey, Rover," he finally called out, "Anything I should be doing?"

The hooded figure of Karl Rove emerged from the shadows. "Everything goes as planned. All is in its place."

"But I wanted something to do," Bush moaned, "Well, Rumsfeld is still trapped in the bowels of hell. Maybe I can plot how to help him."

A pentagram appeared on the floor of the oval office, and a flame arose from it. When the flame disappeared, there stood Donald Rumsfeld.

"You stole my entrance!" Rove shouted and then disappeared back into the darkness from whence he came.

"Hey, you escaped from hell!" Bush exclaimed.

"Yeah, got tired of that place," Rumsfeld said, "Found some people I had strangled before and was able to strangle them again, but it just wasn't the same."

Bush shook his head. "You can never go home again. So, Rummy, got some crazy war plans?"

"I'm old and I'm taking a nap," Rumsfeld said and walked off.

Scott McClellan then came by the office. "So what's that wacky press up to today?" Bush asked him hopefully.

"Nothing. They actually couldn't come up with any questions so we ended the press conference early. Wanna go play some racquetball?"

"Yeah... but not with you," Bush answered, "If I hang out with you, everyone will think I'm a dweeb, too. Understand?"

"You're mean!" Scott yelled as he stormed off.

Laura then came by the office. "I'm bored, dear," he called to her, "Give me something to do!"

"Why don't you read those news magazines on your desk there and try and be informed," she suggested.

"But news is boring!" Bush moaned. He then picked up a copy of Newsweek. "I think this one has comics; I like those." Bush flipped through a couple pages and then started laughing. Suddenly, he stopped. "Wait a second... that was making fun of me! And my ears are not that big!" Bush angrily flipped through a few more pages. "The Bush Administration is disrespectful to Islam," Bush read aloud, "Unnamed White House officials tell of how the toilet paper in the bathrooms of the White House have been replaced with pages torn from the Koran. Also at the White House is a painting depicting Jesus strangling the prophet Mohammed. This is all just part of a pattern of behavior of Bush who had the sign supposedly pointing in the direction of Mecca at the Guantanamo Bay prison actually point to the nearest Porta-Potty." Bush threw down the magazine in anger. "Barely any of that's true at all!"

* * * *

"Omar, I've been hardly angry at anything lately."

"Me too, Ahmed. Also, I'm starting to like America."

"Well, let's check the newest copy of Newsweek to see what's going on in the world." Ahmed purchased a copy from the newsstand and flipped to the main story. After reading a paragraph into the story, Ahmed ripped the magazine apart and shouted, "Jihad!"

* * * *

"Blood, chaos, mayhem - that is what journalism is about," said the evil editor of Newsweek. "These stories that enrage the Muslims are causing destruction and increasing sales since they tend to rip apart the first copy in anger and then buy another to remember what they're angry about. Do we have anything else for the next issue?"

"I have a story on how Bush snuck into Mecca and spray painted his gang sign there," said one writer.

"How many sources do you have on that?"

"0.3"

"Good enough; run with it! Muh ha ha ha!"

* * * *

"So it's rioting in the Middle East and guess who has to deal with it," Condoleezza Rice complained, "Me, that's who. Why couldn't I be Secretary of Defense?"

"Because diplomacy is for women and kill'n is for men," Rumsfeld answered.

"I'll show you killing!" Condi shouted and approached Rumsfeld.

"Let's save our violence for Newsweek," Bush said, "Now hand me my fact-checker."

"The 12-gauge?" Condi asked.

"That'll do."

Laura walked into the room. "Are you going to use violence to solve a problem again?"

"No, dear," Bush answered, stuffing his pockets with shotguns shells.

"You know, when someone in the media writes something that isn't true," Laura told him, "the popular and effective way to combat it is to blog about it."

"Blog!" Rumsfeld yelled, "Sounds like something for homosexuals."

Scott ran into the room. "Did someone say blog? Blogs are full of cool information!"

"See," Rumsfeld growled.

"Now, you give it a try," Laura commanded Bush.

"Aww," he whined, "sounds like this will involve writing."

* * * *

"Hello. This is a new blog," Bush typed, "You can call me Dubya. My day job is president of a major country, but I like to play videogames in my spare time. I have something to write about that is important, though. Newsweek recently posted an article that misrepresents the facts." Bush paused for a moment. "Now how do I add a hypolink... ah, there I go." He went back to typing. "If they followed up on that story, they would have found the time the president used a Koran as toilet paper was a one time mishap when the Saudi ambassador visited the White House. Also, they would know that the reason the sign pointing to Mecca points to a Porta-Potty is that that Porta-Potty has always served as the Mecca reference point since Gitmo was built. Finally, the supposed painting of Jesus strangling Mohammed is very open to interpretation." Bush clicked on "Post" and sat there a few seconds. "Now what do I do?"

* * * *

"How's your blog going?" Laura asked.

"No one on the internets is reading it," Bush complained, "I tried e-mailing the guy from Instapundit about it, but he never responded to my e-mail." Bush shook his fist at the computer screen. "He thinks he's too important to respond to me! You know, I heard somewhere that he puts puppies in blenders."

"That's horrible," Laura said, "and I'm sure you'll find an audience soon."

Bush hit refresh on his web browser. "I have a comment!" he exclaimed. He clicked on the comments. "You look like a chimp," he read aloud. Bush smiled. "My message is spreading!"

* * * *

"Our misinformation and chaos cannot be stopped!" the Newsweek editor laughed, "Muh ha ha ha!"

"We have a problem," said his aide, "The President is fact-checking us."

"Who cares!"

"He's doing it through a... blog."

The editor recoiled in horror. "The President has a blog?! With the magical power of blogging, he'll be able to have any of us fired at will. He'll be unstoppable! Quick, we must get all the heads of media together immediately in a coalition of journalism and evil to stop this menace before it can grow!"

TO BE CONTINUED...

"I will have all those criticizing me disappeared," Vladimir Putin mused to himself, "I'll need to bring back the KGB. And then other countries like Ukraine will fall in line. Soon the Soviet Union will be brought back to its glory it had under my hero Stalin... but in secret. Muh ha ha ha!"

Putin opened the door to his office to see Condoleezza Rice and President Bush sitting there. "What is this?"

"It's an intervention," Bush explained, "You're behaving too much like a dictator, and we felt it was time to confront you."

"Just the two of you?"

Bush shrugged. "Well, everyone else was too scared of you... which is just more evidence that you're a dictator!"

"That's crazy!" Putin yelled, "I was elected to my office."

"That was a phony election, and you know it, Pootie-Poot," Bush answered, "You didn't have any real competition."

"At least I wasn't appointed by the courts for my first term!" Putin shot back.

Bush jumped from his seat. "It was a majority vote in the courts!"

"You get out of here!" Putin demanded, "And stop meddling with my Balkans. They are mine to do with as I please and should be grateful of their Soviet oppression after World War II!"

"Not going to happen," Bush said. Some men in white coats came in and grabbed Putin.

"What's happening?" Putin shouted.

"They're taking you to the dictator rehab center," Bush explained. One of the men then grabbed Bush. "Hey!"

"We heard that you've been acting like a dictator, too," the man explained.

"That's just liberal propaganda!" Bush yelled as they began to drag him away. "Condi! Do something!"

"Can I be President while you're gone?" she asked.

"No! Absolutely not!"

Condi didn't hear Bush's response as she was already plotting evilly.

* * * *

"Well, we're in a dill of a pickle," Bush chuckled as he sat at a little desk next to Putin.

"You idiot!" Putin exclaimed, "Russia and America are no longer friends!"

"Quiet class," the teacher said, "Today we're going to learn about treating our citizenry with respect to their freedom. Let's start with testing where each of you are now on the subject. Let's say there are some people saying mean things about you - what do you do?"

"Have them disappeared in the middle of the night to a secret prison no one knows about!" Putin answered, "I am ruler of Russia! My authority will not be questioned!"

"I'm afraid that's wrong, Vladimir," the teacher said. "Can you answer it, George?"

"Uh... I cover my ears and shout, 'La! La! La!' so I can't hear them and maybe stick my head underwater," Bush said.

"That's closer to the right answer," stated the teacher, "What I was looking for is that you don't do anything to stop other people from speaking, because they all have a right to say what they want. Now, can either of you tell me why you don't run over protestors with tanks? Vladimir."

Putin thought for a moment. "It will get gunk in the tank treads and mess them up."

"I'm afraid that's wrong."

"Oh! I know!" Bush shouted, raising his hand, "Call on me!"

"George."

"Even though some people may be dumb and smelly, that still makes it wrong to crush their skulls with large vehicles," Bush recited.

"Very good!" the teacher exclaimed, "You get a gold star for that answer!"

"Suck up," Putin muttered.

"Now, our first lesson is going to be on interfering with other countries' elections," the teacher said as she turned to start writing on the blackboard.

Bush passed a folded piece of paper to Putin. Putin opened it up to see a stick figure drawing of the teacher saying, "Blah! Blah! Blah!"

"Dah!" Putin laughed, "It's funny because it's true!"

"Are you passing notes?" the teacher demanded.

Putin rose from his seat. "You will not question me! I am ruler of Russia! I will send you to gulag!"

"No one is going to a gulag!" the teacher shouted, "You sit back down right now, or you'll sit in the corner during snack time!"

Putin grudgingly sat.

"Pootie-poot got yelled at," Bush mocked.

Putin looked at Bush with a threatening stare. "I'll get you after class."

* * * *

"Since Bush is away to rehab..." Condi started to say.

"Rehab for what?" one of the reporters asked.

"I dunno... cocaine," Condi answered, "But that's not the point. The point is I am president now. You may all come and kiss my rings."

"The order of succession wouldn't make you president."

"As my first act as president, I changed the order of succession so that I am president," Condi explained, "Now, no more questioning me. Enforcers! Watch them!"

Large robots walked amongst the press. "What are these?" asked a panicked reporter.

"They are my new robot enforcers," Condi said, "They will do anything I say without question and eliminate all who defy me."

"You can't do that!"

"Take him away!" Condi demanded. A robot grabbed the reporter and lifted him in the air. "Have him work on the giant statue that is being made to honor my glory." Condi looked back to the press. "You will now be handed each day what you will report. Any deviation from my texts and my Enforcers will take care of you."

One reporter raised his hand. "Can we edit your propaganda for length?"

"Take him away!"

* * * *

"You two will share a room," the teacher told Bush and Putin.

"I call top bunk!" Bush yelled as he jumped on the top bunk. Putin grabbed Bush and tossed him to the ground.

"The top bunk is mine!"

"But I called it!"

"I care not! It is mine!"

"You two better learn how to settle this democratically," the teacher said.

Bush looked around the room. "Where's the T.V.?"

"No T.V. while you're here," the teacher said, "it will distract from the learning." The teacher then left the room and closed and locked the door.

"But they're to the last few finalists in American Idol!" Bush exclaimed, "I have to find who stays and who goes!" He grabbed Putin by his suit jacket and started shaking him. "I have to know! We need to escape!"

Putin swatted Bush's hands away. "Calm down! I used my KGB experience to formulate a plan of escape already. We'll kill most everyone here as an example to others."

"Don't be silly," Bush said, "We'll just make a rope out of sheets and climb out the window. That's how they always do it on T.V., and people who write for T.V. are smart."

Putin looked out the window. "It's ten stories down and we only have two sheets."

"That's not a 'can do' attitude," Bush said as he shoved Putin out of the way and jumped out the window with his makeshift rope. There was the sound of him screaming, followed by a thud, followed by him moaning, "Owww! My fragile bones!" Then there was silence, finally interrupted by a shout of, "Wahoo! I escaped!"

Putin stuck his head out of the window. "Wait for me!"

* * * *

"So where are we?" Putin asked Bush who was driving the truck.

"I don't even know what country we're in," Bush said, "I guess you should have asked for directions when you robbed that liquor store."

"Next time you have car running and waiting when you are getaway driver," Putin declared. "Idiot."

"I'll get you home soon," Bush promised, "So, I hope you learned a lesson from all this."

"I learn nothing!" Putin shouted, "Now I will crack down even harder on all who oppose me!"

Bush chuckled. "That's my crazy Pootie-Poot."

* * * *

Bush walked back into town. "Finally back to America," he stated. He looked around and didn't see anyone. "It's your president!" he shouted, "Someone come out and give me a tickertape parade in celebration of my return!"

A large robot walked towards Bush.

"Cool!" Bush exclaimed, "A robot like at Disney World!"

"You have broken the curfew!" the robot said in a mechanical voice.

"The what-few?"

The robot's eyes glowed red and it pointed its gatling gun arm at Bush's head. "Return to your place of residence now or you will be terminated."

"Do the robot dance!"

Part I
Part II

* * * *

"Is it true that Bush has been in secret talks with the forces of Heaven, violating the separation of church and state?" asked a reporter.

"That is incorrect," Scott McClellan answered, "there have been..." Scott paused for a moment. "Know what? This is ridiculous. I know MoveOn.org has been hammering us on this issue and lots of people find the separation of church and state very important, but there are exceptions to every rule... such as invasions from hell. It was Moloch who violated this separation, not us."

"Boo!"

"How many times do I have to tell you journalists that you're not supposed to boo press conferences?" Scott griped.

"Melinda Hawkish, FOX News," stated Melinda Hawkish as she stepped forward, her clothes torn and marked with blood.

"I know FOX is leading the cable news race," Scott commented, "but you should still have some dress standards."

"I had to beat off a mob of reporters under the influence of Moloch using just my microphone," Melinda explained.

Scott thought on that for a moment. "Yeah, that'll happen. So what's your question?"

"Is President Bush fully prepared to fend off the threat of Moloch and his demons?"

"Yes, we want to assure all America that this is being taken care of and the horror will soon be over."

"But what about those who believe the president to be an idiot? What assurance do you give them?"

Scott was silent for a second. "He means well?"

* * * *

"Such foolishness," Satan exclaimed at the T.V., "Like I never thought of invading Earth with the denizens of hell. This is going to end poorly."

"At least Moloch is doing something," Beelzebub remarked.

"Ms. Bee, I am doing what is known as plotting," Satan replied indignantly.

"Strange. I would have called it vegging out on the couch while watching seasons of the X-Files on DVD."

"I don't need your attitude right now," Satan answered with annoyance, "I see great problems here. We all know Moloch isn't the brightest bulb and never would have had the initiative to do this himself. The drooling mobs of MoveOn.org couldn't have initiated this either. That means there's some other force of evil out there, one so sinister it can hide itself from even me, Satan, the king of all malice."

"Interesting,� Bee yawned, �Anyway, I'm ordering Chinese; you want some."

"I'll have the Kung Pao chicken... but tell them not so many peanuts this time."

* * * *

The van passed a sign reading, "Now Entering Texas (Don't Mess With It)."

"I can't believe Moloch set up headquarters in Texas!" Bush exclaimed, "That's totally messing with it! We can't waste any time in stopping Moloch."

"Then why did we spend a couple of hours finding a van that looked exactly like the one from the A-Team?" Alberto Gonzales asked.

"If it needs to be explained to you, you'll never understand," Bush answered irately.

"We have the means to fight the demons," Buck the Marine said prepping his rifle, "but how are we going to take down Moloch himself?"

Bush smiled. "I have a plan for that. We�ll..."

"We'll need a better one," Condoleezza Rice interrupted.

"I swiped Michael's spear from the backseat of his car," Cheney stated as he unveiled the weapon by pulling back a blanket, "I figured if we hit Moloch with this, it'll do some damage."

"Good 'ole Cheney," Bush laughed, "never too proud to steal from a messenger from God. Now we just need to fight our way to Moloch. It won't be easy, but just remember the words the archangel Michael left us with."

"@#$% you?" Condi inquired.

"Uh... on second thought, let's think of something Jesus said."

"The meek shall inherit the Earth?" Alberto suggested.

"Well... uh... what did He say about the heavily armed?" Bush asked.

"This is a fool's errand," Rumsfeld grumbled, "I want to stop and take a nap."

"No napping until good triumphs over evil," Bush shot back.

Rumsfeld just growled and slumped back against a wall.

Thus into the devil infested lands ventured our intrepid heroes: Dubya the Brave, Cheney the Wise, Rumsfeld the Old and Grumpy, Condi the Schemer, Alberto the Mexican, and Buck the Courageous. The devastation of the land and the eternal darkness it was under brought fear to their hearts, but still they ventured forth, making good time on reaching the center of evil since they made few rest stops and just had a quick lunch at a Taco Bell.

"My state!" Bush mourned, "It has been totally and completely messed with!"

"All the high schools have been infested with slutty cheerleaders!" Condi exclaimed.

"I remember when cheerleading was about more than being slutty," Bush cried, "It was about cheering your team on to victory."

"It can be that way again!" Cheney assured Bush.

"I'd rather the sluts," Alberto declared.

"For'ners!" Buck warned, "Demon for'ners! Coming from all sides!"

"It's time for action!" Bush declared as he started the A-Team theme on the van's stereo.

The devils flooded around the van, howling in rage, but our heroes struck back with a holy vengeance, knocking away the evil horde with their armaments from God. Embattled, they continued towards the fires ahead that marked where the unholy terror Moloch dwelled.

"Close enough!" Bush yelled as he stopped the van, "Buck, you provide cover fire while the rest of us head to confront Moloch."

"Why am only I providing cover fire?" Buck asked.

"Because I plan to use lots of witty banter when fighting Moloch and I want as many people as possible around to hear it."

Our heroes exited the van, and Buck kept back the demons with his advance Marine tactics of shooting anything that moved. Soon, Bush was in the towering presence of Moloch, but a familiar figure stood beside the terror.

"And that's why I think you'll find we Democrats are better to work with," Senator Harry Reid told Moloch, "We'll compromise on anything, especially on issues of good and evil."

"When this world is mine, you will be my puppet to control the masses," Moloch told Reid.

"Does that rank higher or lower than Senate minority leader?" Reid inquired.

"No deals for devils!" Bush declared, "You die good, now, Moloch!"

"That's your witty banter?" Cheney asked.

Bush shrugged his shoulders and then threw the mighty spear of Michael. It struck Harry Reid's foot.

"Ow!"

"Idiot!" Condi yelled, "That was our one chance!"

"I just assumed I'd be good with a spear," Bush answered.

Laughter erupted around them. Instead of demons, it was MoveOn.org, filming the event. "As we see, the theocrat Bush is no match in this situation," one narrated to a camera.

"Don't call me Theo!" Bush yelled and fired a shot in the air. MoveOn.org scattered and hid behind rocks.

"Puny mortals!" Moloch yelled, "I have existed before time itself, and you cannot stop me!" Moloch flapped his giant wings, the wind sending Bush and company flying backwards.

"That's it!" Alberto declared, picking up his sombrero and pulling out his switchblade, "I'm going to cut you good, Moloch!" He charged the demon. "You'll wish you were in Gitmo!"

Moloch laughed and flames rose around him.

"Aiee!" Alberto cried as he ran away, "Too hot! Maybe we can negotiate."

"Uh, I'm about out of ammo," Buck said as he approached Bush, thousands of demons now encircling the group.

"Great!" Cheney exclaimed, "I'm going to get killed! Now I'll never get my kickbacks from Halliburton!"

"At least 'Killed fighting demons in Texas' will make a good obituary," Bush said, "Unlike when I almost died trying to fix the bathroom sink."

"Now comes the time of your destruction," Moloch laughed, "You will burn forever in the fires of hell and... OW! MY EYE!" Moloch clutched his face right after a rock had struck it.

"You talk too much," Rumsfeld growled, "Time to end this so I can have a nap."

Rumsfeld jumped at Moloch, getting his hands around the demon's throat. Moloch thrashed about, and fire flared all around him, but Rumsfeld held fast. Soon the fire grew so much that both the figures of Moloch and Rumsfeld disappeared behind it. Finally, the fire died down, and all that was left was a note reading, "I'm Donald Rumsfeld. I strangled this demon from hell."

"Rumsfeld sent Moloch back to hell!" Cheney exclaimed, "But he was pulled in with him!"

"Yeah!" Bush yelled, "That was so cool! I hope someone was filming it!"

The dark clouds in the sky gave way to the sun, and the demons all fled.

"Yes!" Bush declared, "The Bush administration triumphs once again!"

"What about Rumsfeld being stuck in hell?" Buck asked.

"We'll have to organize a military strike to go get him," Bush said, but then stopped to think. "Actually, that sort of thing would have been Rumsfeld's job to organize. Aw, I'm sure he'll find his own way out of hell."

"I could be Secretary of Defense," Condi suggested.

Bush laughed. "No, you're already Secretary of State and a woman."

A bright light shot down from heaven, and in it descended the archangel Michael adorned in shining armor. "You have defeated Moloch," he declared, "and proven yourself before the eyes of... MY @#$% SPEAR!!!" Michael pulled the spear from Reid's foot.

"Oh, thank you, angel from Heaven!" Reid exclaimed.

"You stole my @#$% spear!" Michael shouted back, "I'm going to @#$% you up!" He started smacking Reid around.

"That's funny!" Bush chuckled, "I hope someone is filming that too." He looked around. "Hey, MoveOn.org escaped."

* * * *

"This campaign may have failed," George Soros said at the meeting of MoveOn.org, "Just like all our other campaigns, but we'll just try again with our mindless hatred. I'm sure some good will come of it eventually."

"Those demons were cool!" one hippy declared, "Too bad they�re all gone."

"There's still one left," said another hippy pointing to a figure in the corner.

"That sure is an angry looking a demon."

Everyone paused to stare at the creature. "A very angry looking demon... AHHH!!!"

He's Chomps, Chomps, the world's angriest dog.
If he's around, you shouldn't be shrill,
'Cause, if you have liberal views, he's gonna kill.
Since he's Chomps, Chomps, the world's angriest dog.
YEAH!

* * * *

The Dark Empress watched the slaughter of MoveOn.org on her monitor. "You may think you have won this time, Mr. Bush, but with each attack you grow weaker. And, in a few election cycles, the world will be mine. Muh ha ha ha!

THE END

Read More...

Part I

* * * *

"The demons from hell are running rampant through the U.S., destroying property, looting liquor stores, and joining the ACLU. They are only attacking the red states - states that voted for President George Bush - though"

"Even Alaska?" Steve Doocy asked.

"No. Apparently that just too cold and too far out of the way... even for vengeance."

"Thank you, Lauren Green," Brian Kilmeade said, "Once again, this is FOX and Friends, following the invasion from hell this morning. Of course, we're perfectly safe here in God-less New York City."

"What MoveOn.org is doing is unconscionable!" E.D. Hill screamed, "They're saying we should just give in to these devils!"

"Well, they do have a point," Steve said, "Those who voted for that French-looking senator from Massachusetts and turn away from the ways of Jesus are being spared."

"Demons from hell are just like terrorists," E.D. fumed, almost knocking over her coffee cup, "You have to stand up to them."

"You may have a point," Brian responded, "Anyway, it's time for the Afflack question of the day..." Brian paused to listen into his earpiece. "Apparently George Soros and Moloch the destroyer are having a joint press conference. Are own Melinda Hawkish is in attendance and we now go there live."

Before reporters stood George Soros and the terrible demon Moloch who towered over all.

"Mr. Soros, could you please explain why Bush is a greater threat to America than the invasion from hell?" asked a New York Times reporter.

"While I and MoveOn.org don't quite approve of Moloch's tactics," Soros replied, "I think we should at least hear his point of view, as demons from hell and their sympathizers are feeling increasingly isolated from the political process, all thanks to George Bush who goes running to Jesus every time something goes wrong. Who elected a Jewish carpenter to run America, I ask?"

"And He's not even a good carpenter!" Moloch added with his booming voice. "Look at the birdhouse Moloch has made and fear me!" Moloch held out an ornate birdhouse and the press was awed.

"Moloch, why should we have any dealings with you since you are clearly evil?" Melinda Hawkish asked.

"Moloch the destroyer rejects these simple labels of 'good' and 'evil'!" Moloch shouted.

"Follow up question," Melinda continued, "Isn't that exactly what someone who is evil would say?"

Moloch was silent for a moment. "Right-wing bias from FOX News!" he then yelled, "Destroy her!"

The rest of the press turned on Melinda. "We obey our demon master!"

"And remember to check out the documentary Out-Foxed from MoveOn.org," Soros added.

The feed then went to static.

"That doesn't look good for Melinda Hawkish," Steve said.

"We are not biased!" E.D. yelled, "We are fair and balanced!"

"I know," Brian answered, "but try explaining that to Moloch." Brian then looked up beyond the cameras to the producers. "So are we doing sports now or is that getting moved back?"

* * * *

"I hate desert meetings," President Bush said, "There are no concession stands nearby if I get hungry, and, if I need to pee, there aren't any bathrooms or trees to go behind."

"Quit whining," Cheney barked, "So what did the message say?"

Bush took out a note. "Go to these coordinates and I'll send help. Your battle against the demons from hell will not be easy, but know I am always watching over you. Love, Jesus." Bush paused for a moment. "Always watching over us? Sounds like a threat."

"That just His way of saying He'll be with us through these trying times," Buck the Marine said, "Jesus is such a nice guy. I can't wait until he gives us weapons to fight these demons. They're worse than for'ners; they're like... more foreign."

"And what am I doing here?" Condoleezza Rice asked, "I'm the Secretary of State. Can't someone else do this?"

"I wanted fighting an invasion from hell to be a team-building exercise," Bush answered.

"Teams are for homos," Rumsfeld growled.

"That's not a very team-building attitude," Bush chided him.

"So do you consider me part of the team?" Scott McClellan asked hopefully.

"No," Bush shot back, "You're just here to carry things. And then later I have a special job for you: I want to run interference with the press while we handle this."

"That's my regular job."

"Hmm. I always wondered why you were on the payroll." Bush then looked to Alberto Gonzales. "The sun is really beating me down; can I borrow your sombrero?"

"You touch my sombrero, and I cut you," Alberto answered.

"Everyone needs to learn more about being a team," Bush grumbled. He then turned to Rumsfeld. "So where is your dog, Chomps? A really angry dog might be useful against demons."

"How would I know where he is?" Rumsfeld shouted, "Am I my dog's keeper? I'll probably get some angry call from some mother later, and you know how hard it is to explain to some panicked woman that her child was weak and deserved to be eaten by wandering beasts."

Dust was being turned up in the distance, and Bush and his group could soon see a black car speeding their way. It swerved to a stop, and out came a man dressed in torn jeans, a leather jacket, and sunglasses. He took a looked at those before him and said, "Well, aren't you a sorry bunch."

"And you are?" Bush demanded.

"Jesus sent me to help you dumb f***s," he answered as he opened the trunk to his car, "My name is Michael."

"You an angel?" Scott asked.

"I'm an archangel."

"How's that different for a regular angel?"

Michael pulled out an assault rifle and chambered a round. "Means you don't f*** with me."

"I always thought angels were more kind and... uh... angelic," Condi said.

Michael looked at her for a moment and pulled down his sunglasses slightly. "I'm not that kind of angel."

"So where are your wings?" Bush inquired.

Michael tossed down the rifle. "Where the f*** in the Bible does it say a f***ing thing about angels having wings?" Michael demanded, "Where do people get that f***ing s***?"

"Sorry!" Bush exclaimed, "By the way, is there anyway you can tone down the language?"

"Once you've battle the hoards from hell since before time, you can tell me how to f***ing speak," Michael answered.

"Gee, lighten up," Bush sighed.

Michael quickly grabbed a shotgun from the trunk, chambered a round, and pointed it a Bush's head. "Did you just use the Lord's name in vain?"

"I only said, 'Gee'!" Bush exclaimed.

"Which is a variation of Jesus!" Michael yelled. "You think I'm f***ing stupid? You break a Commandment, I'll blow your f***ing brains out!"

"Isn't that against a Commandment?" Condi asked dryly.

Michael chuckled and put the shotgun away. "So, I was here to bring you some tools to fight the demons. You want them?"

They all crowded around the trunk of the car which was filled with weaponry. "All of this is specially blessed," Michael explained, "Guaranteed to majorly f*** up any regular devil you run into. Back in the day, I used to fight them with sword and spears, but now I have M-16s, MP5s, and even some Desert Eagle .50AEs made right in the holy land. Arm up."

Everyone eagerly grabbed weaponry except for Rumsfeld. "Back when I was young, we didn't need fancy weaponry given to us by some punk angel to fight demons," he said, "We chased them off just fine with pitch forks and a few rocks to throw at them."

"Suit yourself, old man," Michael answered as he closed up the trunk.

"You taking any weapons?" Bush asked Michael.

"I ain't fighting," Michael responded, "Heaven is my domain to defend, this f***ed up situation is for you guys to deal with. I was just told to give you weapons and advice; everything else is up to you dumb f***s. I'm sure you'll be fine if you all love Jesus and what not."

"We love Jesus," Bush said firmly as he checked on a new Colt .45, "platonically."

"I love Jesus; I'm his biggest fan," Buck proclaimed as he held up a holy M-60, "Why, when I was a kid, anytime I didn't love Jesus, my mom wouldn't beat me with a wooden spoon."

"I have no particular gripes again Him," Rumsfeld stated.

"While Halliburton made it clear to me that these demons were hurting their schemes to steal the world's oil," Cheney said as he prepped a semi-automatic shotgun, "I�m not fighting this battle if it's just us against all the demons in hell."

"You're not going to fight all the demons in hell," Michael said, "No point to it. You need to take down Moloch; then the whole assault will collapse."

"So let's find this gringo Moloch and fill him full of blessed bullets and be done with it," Alberto declared as he put on a bandolier.

"Ain't that simple," Michael answered, "Moloch is one bad motherf***er. Even these weapons won't faze him. He stands over twelve feet tall, has skin stronger than steel, has wings so powerful they can cause tornados, and he breathes fire burning anyone who gets near him."

"If it breathes," Rumsfeld stated as he put on his strangling gloves, "we can strangle it."

TO BE CONCLUDED...

The Dark Empress sat at her throne, observing the news on multiple T.V. monitors. "All goes as planned."

"But Empress," said one of her servants, "the Republicans still hold power!"

"Fool!" the Empress shouted, "That is what I wanted. We wait for 2008 for my rise to power and the destruction of the world. Until then, we weaken the Republicans� power." The Empress turned to face those before her. There was a towering demon, its eyes glowing of fire, horns spiraling from his head, and dark wings large enough to block the sun. He kneeled before the Empress and spaketh in a voice that would chill the soul of mortal man.

"I am Moloch, and I pledge to you the armies of hell." Behind the terror were countless more demons, gnashing their teeth and clawing the air in their hatred and anger.

Next to Moloch kneeled a man in a suit. "I am George Soros, and I pledge to you the armies of MoveOn.org." Behind the Hungarian were countless liberals, gnashing their teeth and clawing the air in their hatred and anger.

The Empress smiled. "And now the attack shall begin."

* * * *

"Pedro, I'm going to make a run for it."

"No, Sanchez, you don't want to try and cross into America now."

"Why not, Pedro? Because of those loco MinuteMen?"

"No. Because of the one know as 'El Estrangulador Rumsfeld.' All who sneak across the border are found dead with a note saying, 'Soy Donald Rumsfeld, y estrangul� a este hombre.' No one is sure what it means."

"That's just a crazy legend, Pedro."

"No! It's true! Also, with him is the beast known as 'El Chompacabra.' It is a monster composed only of teeth and anger."

"You believe too many silly stories, Pedro. Anyway..."

Beside the two, the earth ripped open and out poured forth the demons of hell, all running northward towards America and destroying everything in their path.

"Pedro! We must flee!"

"Yes! We must... oh, it's siesta time. We nap, then we flee."

* * * *

Chomps growled, angrier than his usual growl.

"What is it, boy?" Rumsfeld asked, not looking up from one of his war books.

Chomps wasn't sure. He felt angry at the very fabric of existence itself. Not sure how to maul the very fabric of existence itself, he attacked a potted plant.

Rumsfeld�s phone rang and he answered. "Hello."

"It's me, the President... President Bush, that is... the second President Bush. We've got trouble."

"What kind of trouble?"

"Big trouble."

Rumsfeld grabbed his strangling gloves and headed out the door.

* * * *

"I've called you all to the war room because America is under attack from the forces of hell itself," Bush announced. "Mexican Attorney General, have you made any progress in stopping them?"

"They ain't exactly obeying the authority of the police," Gonzales answered.

"Well, have you contacted your brother Speedy to help out?"

Gonzales settled back in his chair and put his sombrero over his face. "One of these days I'm gonna cut you, you stupid gringo."

Bush tuned to Condoleezza Rice. "So what's the situation with other countries?"

"None are reporting any similar attacks."

"Just us then," Bush mused. "I wonder how the National Guard is doing. Someone radio them."

Over the speaker came, "This is Buck the Marine. I was on leave, but I heard fighting so I decided to join in."

"Kill any?" Bush asked.

"Ya see, that's the thing: they ain't exactly... what's that word... sounds like 'corporal'..."

"Corporeal," Condi answered.

"Yeah. They ain't that," Buck said, "I shot them good, but that didn't do nut'n. So I then tried praying at one, and stuck it with my KaBar. That sorta worked."

"Back when I was a kid," Rumsfeld growled, "When we got attacked by the legions of hell, we didn't make a big deal about it. Just grabbed a few holy artifacts and chased them away."

"That's what we need!" Bush exclaimed, "Holy artifacts!" He picked up the phone and dialed seven sevens. "Jesus, I need your help... Oh, Jesus isn't there. Could you leave Him a message, then? ...Tell Him if this is the end of time and there was a rapture, He forgot me and needs to come pick me up. If this isn't the end of time, then we need some help fighting the demons of hell and He's the only one who can give it because Buddha stopped returning my phone calls." Bush hung up. "I'm sure Jesus will get some help for us quick; He's one nice guy. Comes from a good family."

"Uh, Mr. President," White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan called out.

"Scott, I told you that when important things are happening that you're not allowed to talk," Bush responded angrily.

"But you might want to see this." Scott pointed to a T.V. screen on which a commercial was playing.

"Now, under Bush, we're being attacked by the legions of hell," the announcer said, showing scenes of the chaos. "Why? Because of the Bush administration�s association with the religious right. We've left the citizens of hell feeling like pariahs to our own government which should represent everyone. Just listen to this man who is foreign and thus smarter than you."

A Frenchman appeared on screen. "We care not for religion in our superior country, and thus we are not attack be zees devils. Peh! I spit on your stupidness."

"Wise words," the announcer continued, "but what does Mr. Bush do when trouble appears."

There was a still image of Bush on screen with his voice saying, "Jesus, I need your help."

"They tapped my phone!" Bush exclaimed. He then took out a hammer and smashed the phone to pieces. "That'll teach 'em."

"Is this separation of church and state?" the announcer asked, "Mr. Bush is only causing more attacks. If we want peace, we have to reject the religious extremists and reject the Republicans who are beholden to them. So, disassociate yourself from any religiousness, and the demons will leave us alone."

The final screen displayed the words, "This message was paid for by MoveOn.org."

"Stupid 527s!" Bush yelled. "Get McCain in here!"

Senator John McCain came in the war room. "What is it?"

Bush punched McCain in the face, dropping the Senator to the floor. "You're as mean as the Vietnamese!" McCain cried.

Bush shook his fist at McCain. "I'm just getting started." He then turned to face everyone else. "We have a big problem ahead of us, and we need to be together in facing it... even with the liberals nipping at our heels. This will be a big challenge, and it won't just be solved by punching McCain."

"Can I punch him anyway?" Condi asked.

"Sure."

TO BE CONTINUED...

"We announce the new pope, Pope Benedict XVI," said a cardinal.

The pope stepped forward, wearing his pope hat and holding his pope staff.

"How do you react to charges that you are a hardliner?" asked a reporter.

"Pope Power!" the pope shouted as he raised his staff. Light shot up from the beam into the sky. All was silent for a few moments, and then a giant beam shout down from the heavens blowing up the press corp.

"I like this new pope," Bush said as he watched the T.V., "Hopefully we can work with him."

"What do I care?" Rumsfeld growled, "I'm not Catholic! I never liked Christians with all their 'love' and 'peace.' Me, I worship Ares, god of war. Oh, great Ares, what do you command of me?"

Chomps barked in response.

"It shall be done!" Rumsfeld swore.

Tom DeLay ran into the room. "The Democrats and the press are out to get me!" he cried.

"What are they doing?" Bush asked.

"They keep talking about how I hire all my relatives, how I take gifts and bribes from lobbyists, how I do favors for the mafia, and how I make my interns rob liquor stores."

"But every politician does that!" Bush yelled angrily.

"Just bash the Democrats heads in with rocks," Rumsfeld suggested.

"Last time I did that, the press was extra mean to me," DeLay whined.

"We need a more thought out, diplomatic solution," Bush said, "Let's trick the Democrat leadership into a rocket and fire it into the sun. To NASA!"

* * * *

"It was very expensive to make a rocket with enough fuel capacity to launch that many people into space on a course to the sun," the NASA director complained, "Plus, getting a big sign that said, 'Welcome Democrats to Meeting About How to Use Represenative Tom DeLay as a Wedge Issue' from Kinkos wasn't cheap. If you could have come up with a sign with fewer words in it, you could have saved NASA some money."

Bush slapped the director. "I control the money; I do what I wan'!"

"Quiet; the Democrats are coming!" DeLay called out, and everyone hid behind some shrubbery.

"Well, here we are at the meeting!" said one Democrat, "I'm sure by constantly attacking Tom DeLay we can get back into power!"

"Let's continue this discussion in the meeting room that strangely looks like a rocket," stated another Democrat.

Once they all entered the rocket, Bush gave the signal. The hatch to the rocket then closed and it launched up into the air. "Have fun in the sun, ya bastards!" DeLay yelled at it.

"That's tell'n 'em!" Bush laughed. He then noticed he was surrounded by the press.

"Did you just launch the Democratic leadership into the sun?" one reporter asked.

"No, that's crazy," Bush answered, "but, if you head into the press room, I'll answer all your questions and more. Just head along, and I'll be in soon after."

"Fine," the press said grudgingly as they headed for the press room, though one remarked, "Doesn't this sorta look like a rocket?"

Karl Rove emerged from the shadows. "Are the plans in motion?"

"Yeah, everything is good," President Bush answered, "Rummy is right now meeting with the Iraqis in Baghdad."

* * * *

"Rarr!" Rumsfeld shouted as he violently shook an Iraqi, "You get your government together so I can move on to attacking other countries!"

* * * *

John Negroponte came into the Oval Office. "Hey, Negroponte," Bush said to him, "How did the hearings go?"

"Everybody loved me! They even sang me a song!"

"Cool! Hopefully things will go as well for Mr. Mustache."

* * * *

"My first question is why someone who despises the U.N. so much would even want this job?" Senatorette Barbara Boxer said.

"I don't!" John Bolton answered, pounding the table, "Getting this job will make me violent and angry!" He then rubbed his glasses. "Is that a woman asking me questions? They let women be Senators now? No one told me this!"

"See, this is what we need; someone who doesn't even want the job for his own personal ambitions," Senator Richard Lugar remarked.

"Do you think you will be able to work with Kofi Anan?" Senator Joe Biden asked Bolton.

"If I ever see him in person, I'll bash his head in with a rock!" Bolton vowed.

"Those are the words of a reformer," Senator George Allen stated.

"But what will other countries think?" Senatorette Boxed exclaimed.

Bolton pointed to his face. "Does this look like the mustache of a man who cares what other people think?"

"Is it true you have vowed to make all in the U.N. pay for their alleged incompetency with blood?" asked Biden.

"I'll gut them like pigs!" Bolton shouted, wielding a custom made shiv.

"I think it's good we have someone who is not afraid to take on the U.N.'s corruption," Lugar commented.

"I'll strangle them with their own entrails," Bolton yelled, cutting the air with his shiv.

"Do you even know anything about diplomacy?" Senatorette Boxer inquired.

"Does that mean I kills them alphabetically?" Bolton responded, looking confused.

"We have Carl W. Ford Jr. here to testify that Bolton intimidated other officials," Biden announced.

Ford sat down to testify, and Bolton pointed his shiv at him while staring at Ford with crazy eyes. "You have something to say about me intimidating people?" Bolton demanded.

Ford wet his pants and ran off. "No!"

"And we have reports that you've already started things off on the wrong foot," Biden said, "Having hit Kofi Anan's son with your car and shoved him into a duffle bag."

"That's my business, and I'm not answering questions about it!" Bolton shouted.

"Help me!" said the wriggling duffle bag lying next to Bolton, "I'm Kojo!"

Bolton started stomping the bag. "Duffle bags don't talk!" Bolton looked to the Senators. "So when do I start?"

Part I
Part II

* * * *

"Hey, honey," President Bush called out to his wife, "They're now playing kung fu movies on C-SPAN."

"That's one of your press conferences, dear," Laura answered.

"Wow! If I knew they were this cool, I would have watched one by now!"

* * * *

White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan crashed through the chairs as the reporters gave way for the fight. Scott was quick to jump back to his feet. "You do not scare me, Shen Po of the New York Times!"

"Ha!" Shen Po laughed, "Then you are a fool, for I fight with the most vicious and deadly kung fu of all... MONKEY STYLE KUNG FU!"

"Noooo!" Scott screamed in fear.

"Baboon Punch!" Shen Po announced as he delivered a punch sending Scott flying across the room. Scott tried to get back up, but Shen Po yelled, "Ring-Tailed Lemur Flip-Kick!" as he delivered another blow to the bruised Press Secretary. Scott made one last attempt to stand.

"Capuchin Chop!" Shen Po struck Scott once more, and the press secretary fell to the ground unmoving. "Your silence in answer to my questions is damning," Shen Po laughed as he stood over Scott, "Muh ha ha ha!"

* * * *

"Why does the New York Times say you had no answer to the question of whether I assassinated the pope on behest of Halliburton?" Bush demanded of Scott.

"Shen Po's questions were to strong for me," Scott answered, "He fights with monkey style kung fu!"

"I'm tired of hearing about the liberal media and their monkey style kung fu!" Bush shouted, "A real press secretary should be able to handle this. I'm sure if I call the pope, he'll know what to do." Bush paused for a moment. "Wait, I had him assassinated on behest of Halliburton." Bush paused. "Grrr! Now I'm all confused." Bush rolled up the New York Times and started hitting Scott with it. "Bad press secretary! Bad!"

After Bush stormed away, Scott ran to the Zatoichi, the blind swordsman. "You have to help me, Ichi!" Scott pleaded, "I don't want to get hit with a newspaper again! I must learn to defeat Shen Po at kung fu!"

"Why do people only come to Ichi if they have a kung fu related problem?" Ichi complained, "Why is it never, 'Ichi, I need help with my car,' or 'Ichi, I have a moral quandary I need your input on.'?"

"I'm sorry."

"I will only help you for three ryo!"

"But you took all my pieces of gold last time we played dice," Scott whined.

"Oh yes," Ichi grinned, "Fine, I will help pathetic, tubby fatman for free. I know of even greater kung fu than monkey style kung fu, but it is extra-hard... for fatman!"

* * * *

Scott walked up to the podium. "I am ready for your questions," he announced, his eyes on the grinning Shen Po.

"Why are Bush's foreign policies a failure and leading to more terror? Is it because he is beholden to the Christian right and corporations?" Shen Po asked.

Scott began to answer, but then Shen Po shouted, "Proboscis Roundhouse Kick!" as he attacked Scott.

The podium was shattered, but Scott was not there. Shen Po looked up to see Scott flying down at him with a kick. "Our foreign policy is spreading democracy in the Middle East," Scott said as his kick sent Shen Po flying backwards, knocking back a number of reporters. Scott then flipped through the air. "The best way to fight terror is elections," Scott stated before landing a flying punch.

Shen Po rolled back to his feet and stared at Scott completely dumbfounded. "Your answers defy logic and gravity!"

"That is because I now use wire-suspended kung fu." Scott spun quickly, finally landing a chop to Shen Po. "Now you will write in the New York Times of Bush's successes or you will perish."

"Lesser-Ape Palm Strike!" Shen Po announced, but Scott flew up twenty feet in the air and came straight down at Shen Po fist first.

"We are making progress at home and abroad," Scott said as he struck Shen Po, "You will all report this or you will die!"

Shen Po was stunned, but then he noticed a nearby closet. He kicked the door open to see a number of men working Scott's wires. "Spinning Buffy-Headed Marmoset Kick!" he yelled as he knocked them all out. He then turned to Scott. "Ha! Now you are grounded!"

"Eep," Scott answered.

"Flying Non-Tarsier Prosimian Kick of Death!" Shen Po screamed as he launched into a powerful flying kick at Scott.

"Cowardly Duck!" Scott squeaked as he ducked and covered his face. Shen Po flew over Scott and through a window, plunging down a cliff that, until now, Scott had never noticed was right outside the press room.

"The Order of the Bronze Mongoose is avenged," Scott announced as he looked out the window. He then turned back to the reporters who were each in martial art poses.

"We have all learned kung fu so we may battle your answers!" said one reporter.

Scott ripped off his shirt. "Then I shall fight you all!"

* * * *

"Scott, did you get in a kung fu battle with the press?" Bush demanded.

"Sorry, sir."

"And did it spill out into the streets causing panic throughout D.C.?"

"Sorry, sir. Didn't mean that to happen."

"And did you destroy a wing of the Smithsonian Natural History Museum with a chi blast?"

"It was aimed at the CNN White House correspondent� but sorry, sir."

"You know that museum is full of dinosaur bones?"

"I know. Sorry, sir."

"And you know we can't get more because the caveman killed all of the dinosaurs?"

"I know - well, actually that's factually inaccurate - but I'm sorry, sir."

"That's it!" Bush declared, "I'm banning kung fu from press conferences!"

"But kung fu hasn't been banned since the Lyndon Johnson administration!" Scott protested.

"And it's happening again!" Bush said, "Now go do a proper press conference."

Scott looked down at his feet. "Okay."

* * * *

"Well, all the excitement is over," Scott told the press, "Let's go back to some regular questions with regular answers, and hopefully the American people will end up informed in the end. Now who has the first question?"

"Why are you so fat?"

THE END

Part I

* * * *

Scott McClellan landed a flying kick to the dummy. He then ripped off its arms and beat it to pieces.

"With that," the elder said, "You have mastered the art of responding to reporters."

"What now, master?" Scott asked, bowing before the elder.

"Now you get out of here before your dog attacks a load-bearing stone."

The ancient temple behind them collapsed. Chomps walked forward and spit out a piece of granite.

"Do you know how many thousands of years old that building was?" the elder shouted.

"We'll get you a new one," Scott said, running off, "I need to get to my next press conference!"

* * * *

"Ah, the chubby man returns," Zatoichi, the blind swordsman, remarked as he heard Scott enter the White House, "Yet he walks differently. There is confidence in each step. Feels like earthquake since he's fat. Heh heh!"

"No reporter is going to push me around now!" Scott announced, "I demand respect from all I encounter."

"So why do you not ask angry dog to stop biting your leg?" Ichi inquired.

Scott glanced a moment at Chomps and his threatening glare. "Because I don't mind it."

President Bush ran up to Scott. "We got a problem!" he exclaimed, "I was looking on a globe, and I thought I saw Chile move. Thus, I launched a tactical strike against it. I need you to explain this away to the press."

"It is my duty, and it shall be done," Scott told Bush as he bowed.

"Oh, and pick me up some smokes while you're out."

* * * *

"Hasn't the administration's idiocy destroyed relations with South America?" one reporter asked.

"Foreign relations are a delicate thing," Scott answered, "but it takes a particular wrong move to burst it all apart, much like a certain strike to the chest will explode the heart." Scott then shot out his hand and struck the reporter in the chest with two fingers. The reporter fell to the ground, blood gushing out his mouth. "Perhaps now you see."

"But isn't everything going in the wrong direction with these mistakes?" asked another reporter.

Scott charged him and sent a kick to his face. The reporter's head then flew off his body and rolled along the floor. "This man's head is not a perfect ball, and yet it rolls forward still," Scott said, "And, even with imperfections, our foreign policy can move forward as well. Any more questions?"

The press backed away in fear.

Scott bowed to them. "Then we are finished here."

* * * *

"Wow!" Bush exclaimed to Scott, "You inflicted almost as many casualties on the press as Rumsfeld does."

"But I don�t need to use fancy moves made by Asian homos to do it," Rumsfeld grumbled.

"You know," Bush continued, "every single day you've worked for us, Scott, I've said aloud, 'I sure wish we still had Ari instead of tubbo,' and, until just now, I hadn't said that today."

Scott bowed. "Your words bring me great honor."

"Cool! Now where's my smokes?"

* * * *

Scott looked to the reporters before him. "You have not said anything for the past five weeks. Do any of you dare question the Bush administration today?"

The press shivered, but then one man stepped forward. "I have a question," he said, his voice firm and unwavering, "and it gratuitously mentions Abu Ghraib."

Scott ripped off his suit jacket. "Then you will die!" He launched into a flying kick at the man, but it was blocked and Scott found himself smashing into the ground. Scott then looked up and recognized the reporter. "Shen Po!" he exclaimed, "Enemy of the Bronze Mongoose and new White House correspondent for the New York Times!"

"And the fury of your answers is no match for the power of my questions!" Shen Po laughed, "Now you will tell me where the ancient temple of the Order of the Bronze Mongoose is!"

"But shouldn't you already know where it is since you trained there?" Scott asked.

"Yes, but I lost my MapQuest printout," Shen Po responded, "Now answer so I may destroy the temple!"

"Uh... it kinda sorta already was destroyed... by accident."

"Then I shall take my vengeance against you!" Shen Po yelled and tried to stomp down on Scott. Scott rolled back to his feet and sunk into a fighting stance. "Ha!" Shen Po laughed, "You will not survive! For, with my kung fu, THERE IS NO ANSWER!"

TO BE CONTINUED...

"Why does it look like President Bush's Social Security plans won't be passed?" asked a reporter, "Is it because you're so fat?"

"I'm not fat!" White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan exclaimed, "And the Social Security plans will be passed."

"Is it because you're in denial of being fat then?"

"Argh!" Scott exclaimed and stormed away. "The press are being mean to me!" he yelled as he entered the White House. He then noticed Bush was spraying the interior with something. "What are you doing?"

"I'm spraying the White House with monkey poison," he explained, "I'm pretty sure a monkey bit me while I was sleeping, and I don't want any monkeys in my house."

"A monkey did not bite you!" Laura Bush exclaimed, "You just imagined it!"

Bush kept spraying. "I can't take that chance!"

"I need some advice on how to deal with these mean, stupid reporters."

"I'm busy," Bush answered, "Ask Rummy."

"Rumsfeld, I need some advi..."

An empty whiskey bottle broke against his face.

"Ahh! Sorry!" Scott yelled as he clutched his wound. He then saw Condoleezza Rice walking by. "Could you help me with..."

A knee to the groin dropped Scott. "Busy," Condi said as she kept walking by.

"Hah hah," came a laugh from nearby, "If you only had more respect, you could be a door mat."

Scott looked up to see Zatoichi, blind swordsman, standing above him and poking Scott with his cane. "I thought we fired you," Scott answered.

"I never saw a pink slip," Ichi answered, "Hah hah."

"Can you help me, Ichi-san?" Scott answered as he stood back up.

"You are the one who can help you the most," Ichi answered, "but you are dumb and fat, so I help you anyway. Hah hah."

"What can I do?"

"You must train to gain respect. I will send you on journey - great mystic quest - and you will emerge from it a true Press Secretary."

"Why's everything with you have to involve a mystic quest?" Scott groaned.

* * * *

"You know, Chomps, you're not much of a guide when you keep walking behind me and attacking me randomly," Scott said as he wandered through the desert.

The rottweiler growled at him.

"Not that I'm criticizing you," Scott added as he sped up his pace. He then spotted a great temple ahead of him. "What a sight!" Scott exclaimed, "It must be as old as... AHH! GET OFF MY LEG!!!"

Chomps stopped biting Scott to look up and see the temple. He then ran towards it to attack it.

As Scott got up, he saw an ancient looking man standing at the temple's entrance. "Who are you, fat man?"

"I am Scott McClellan, humble press secretary," Scott answered, bowing ceremoniously, "I come to you for training."

"So I see," answered the elder. He looked to Chomps who was chewing at the brick exterior of the temple. "Your dog seems to hate temples."

"He's not my dog," Scott stated, "and he hates everything. Sometimes he goes to church, looks to the heavens, and snaps at God."

"Such is his way then," the elder answered, "Let us go inside."

The main room of the temple was filled with mosaics of kung fu masters wiping out enemies armed with pens and notepads. "Throughout history," the elder spoke, "there have been many dumb emperors. Then there were those who would demand answers for the emperors' actions. It was the charge of our order - the Bronze Mongoose - to destroy with great vengeance all who questioned the emperor."

While awe inspiring, the temple interior also looked old and deserted. "What happened?" Scott asked.

"A student of mine, Shen Po, was drawn in by the dark siren of the liberal media. He became a reporter himself, and defeated all in the order of the Bronze Mongoose until only I remained."

Scott kneeled before the elder. "There are many who question my master and his stupidity, and I need the power to strike them down. Will you train me?"

The elder brushed his hand through his beard. "Perhaps even a chubby man like you can be taught to defeat your questioners. It will take many years of training before you are ready."

"I only have four hours before I need to get going to be ready for the next press conference."

"Well, most of the years of training was just filler, anyway. Let's get started."

TO BE CONTINUED...

"So let me see if I understand this, Jeb: you simply arrested a Democrat?"

"Well, the mayor of Orlando was committing election fraud and..."

"Wow, all I had to do was arrest them!" Bush declared, "Thanks, Jeb. As my older brother, you've always been looking out for me."

"I'm your younger brother, and it's not so simple. See..."

Bush hung up the phone. "So, Speedy, what's your legal opinion on rounding up and arresting the Democrats?"

"Sounds fun," Attorney General Alberto Gonzales answered, "I'll get my sombrero."

"Get mine too!"

* * * *

Senator Harry Reid saw his door kicked in. "We've heard you're a Democrat!" Alberto declared.

"That's crazy!" Reid answered.

"Then what do you think about Bush's tax cuts?"

"They're too targeted at the rich."

"Democrat!" Alberto yelled, "Arrest him!"

"You can't just arrest me for that!" Reid protested.

"You see this sombrero?" Alberto challenged, pointing to his hat, "It means authority! I do what I want!"

"What about the poncho?"

"It goes with the sombrero, stupid! Now surrender for arrest!"

"Okay," Reid said, "Just let me get my glasses."

"He's resisting arrest!" Alberto shouted, "Deploy nightsticks."

* * * *

"I admit it's not going to be easy to prove you're a Democrat," Alberto told Senator Joe Lieberman, "So why don't we make a deal. It'll be probation plus time served if you just give me the names of more Democrats."

White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan burst into Alberto's office. "I'm hearing that you've been arresting and beating Democrats and now I have to answer to the press!"

"I thought I arrested all of them," Alberto said, confused.

"Apparently not."

"Well, I'll go help you answer questions."

They both walked out to the press room. "So how do you answer to charges of abducting Democrats and beating them with nightsticks?"

Scott started to answer, but Alberto tapped him on the shoulder. "Let me handle this." He then faced the press and said, "Actually, I used a pi�ata bat. The pi�ata bat has a long history in Mexican culture, dating back to when Mexicans first discovered they like to beat things with bats. You have to appreciate other cultures."

The press nodded knowingly and walked off. "See, that's how you handle the press, you stupid gringo," Alberto told Scott.

"You know, you never had an accent until you were appointed to this position."

Alberto pulled out his pi�ata bat. "You shut up!"

* * * *

"With the amount of travel, I think we were sent to another country for trial," said one frightened Democrat.

A man stepped in amongst the prisoners. "You are all charged with witchcraft. The punishment for that crime is to have your left hand cut off."

"That's silly," Sen. Harry Reid answered, "All we are are Democrats and..."

"The punishment for being a Democrat is death!"

Reid thought for a moment. "Well, I guess I was eight-years-old when I first started casting hexes..."

"Liberals everywhere are having to come to grips with the fact that Iraq may not be a complete disaster," the anchorman announced, "We now go to one of the war's dissenters, humanities Professor John Glickman."

The professor was clutching his head and pounding it against his desk. "Brain hurt! Bush bad! But no disaster in Middle East! Can't... comprehend... Bush wrong! Right is wrong! Black is white!" He then screamed and jumped through his window.

Condoleezza Rice turned off the T.V. "Reality is descending upon the liberals. Some learn to embrace. Some kill themselves rather than have to face it. Other burrow further into the dark recesses of delusion to conceal themselves from it."

"Is this that 'reality-based' community I keep hearing about?" President Bush asked.

"Yes," Condi answered, "based on reality, but not quite of it. They do not operate in the same realm of thought that normal humans do. You see, current events have been like an antibiotic to the bacteria that are liberals. While most are killed out, those remaining are the most virulent - or, in the case of liberals - more delusional."

"That's a great point," Bush said frankly, "Rover, what's your take."

The hooded-figure of Karl Rove emerged from the shadows. "The Book of Punditry says that a wind from the East would decimate the enemy. If democracy hits the land of the black riches while the pachyderm holds the throne, then the ass shall be kicked from power forever."

"Sounds like a plan," Bush said.

"You're not understanding anything either of us are saying, are you?" Condi asked.

"No, but, as long as our plans are working, who cares?" Bush said smugly, "Middle East knows what's what, now, and everything is falling into place!"

"Anyway, I would like permission to capture and study one of these uber-liberals," Condi stated, "They could be a danger, but we won't know until we imprison one."

"Will this involve intrusive and painful measures to the liberal?" Bush asked.

"Most certainly."

"Sounds good to me, but I better consult with the Attorney General. Hey, Alberto, what's your opinion on capturing a U.S. citizen without any cause, holding him indefinitely, and torturing him?"

"I don't give a flying @#$%," Alberto Gonzales answered, "and I don't see why anyone else would."

"Sage advice as always," Bush said, "Well, Condi, you have a go. On to other matters." He turned to the Vice President. "Any luck on finding Osama?"

Cheney shrugged his shoulders. "He wasn't by the coffee pot."

Bush looked to Rumsfeld. "And how's the exit strategy on Iraq?"

"There are still some Iraqis left alive, but we'll take care of them," Rumsfeld vowed.

"We're not supposed to kill them, Rummy," Bush said, "We're supposed to help them build a prosperous democracy."

"What!" Rumsfeld yelled, "You keep changing the plan on me! Rarr!"

"Hey, the situation is fluid," Bush said as he ducked under the table, "Well, on to the domestic agenda, we need to get our Social Security reform passed. I forget, though; what narrow special interest does this serve?"

"I think it's stock brokers," Cheney responded.

"Might be the wealthy in general once more," Condi commented.

"I'm sure Halliburton wants it," Cheney added, "and that's all that's important."

"So how are we going to stop the Democrats from... uh... stopping us?" Bush inquired.

"We have the most evil nine-year-old in existence campaigning for us," Rove intoned.

"And, best of all," Cheney added, "he's working solely for Yu-Gi-Oh cards."

"What in God's name are those?" Bush asked.

"No adult knows," Cheney answered.

Little Noah McCullough stepped forward. "I love studying about presidents, and I want to make sure there is Social Security when I retire, golly gosh!"

"He's cute! Seniors love cute kids!" Bush exclaimed, "The Democrats will have no rebuttal to this!"

"They've tried teaching their talking points to kittens to counter us," Rove said, "and have executed eight so far for failure."

"Anything else to worry about the Democrats?" Bush inquired.

"They're threatening to filibuster more judicial nominees," Cheney answered.

"Someone should send them a box full of Viagra for their impotency." Bush laughed. "Don't actually do that, though; that stuff is expensive."

The group sat around silently for a while.

"Okay, I'm bored," Bush stated, "Let's issue another terror alert."

* * * *

"We were informed that the terror alert had been raised to orange since the terrorists had stolen the 'rock' from 'rock & roll' leaving us with just 'roll' which hardly is useful by itself. I called a number of music stations, and, while some did not have 'roll,' all had 'rock' at least and did not know of any terrorist attacks. How do you explain this?"

White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan looked at his talking points. All it said was "I'm not fat; I'm big-boned." Scott looked to the press and shrugged his shoulders. "The President is an ass?"

Part I
Part II
Part III

* * * *

"Is it true that the president was lost on the way to his negotiations with North Korea?"

"That's ridiculous," White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan answered, "He's right on schedule."

* * * *

"Are these people looking more Korean and less Chinese to you?" Bush asked.

"Looking kinda Korean," the president of Micronesia, Joseph Urusemal, answered.

"Nope. Not Korean yet," Buck the Marine stated.

* * * *

"And where are the rest of Bush�s cabinet? There are rumors about them being involved in some sort of fighting competition."

"That's crazy; they're hard at work," Scott assured the reporters.

* * * *

"Are you really wearing those stiletto heel boots for the street fighting competition?" Laura asked incredulously.

"Part of street fighting is style," Condoleezza Rice answered.

"'nuff girl talk!" Cheney shouted, "I want to crack some skulls. There's nothing like illegal street fighting."

"Rarr!" Rumsfeld added.

"While we're here, though, is anybody looking after my husband?" Laura asked with concern.

"Chomps, go check on Bush," Rumsfeld told his dog, "If he's in trouble, take care of the trouble. If he's making friends with Europeans, bite him."

Chomps growled and then ran off.

"Get ready!" the fight coordinator yelled out, "and remember: the only rules are there are no rules."

"Hey! That's easy to remember!" Laura exclaimed excitedly.

* * * *

"Anymore questions?" Scott asked the assembled press.

"Why are you so fat?"

Scott groaned. "Can we show some maturity here?"

One of the reporters shrieked. "That guy there has a laptop!"

"He could be a blogger!" another yelled.

"Let's get out of here before he gets us all fired!" The press fled the room leaving just Scott and the one man with a laptop.

"Thanks for getting rid of those jerks," Scott told him.

"I have some questions about Michael Gannon."

Scott rolled his eyes. "For pete's sake..."

* * * *

"Now... uh... Entering... North... uh... Korea. Abandon All... uh... Hope... Ye Who Enter... uh... Here." Bush turned to his two companions. "What do you think that means?"

"I think we might be to North Korea," Urusemal offered.

"Think we should ditch the pandas we're riding," Bush said.

"Good, mine kept attacking me," Urusemal said.

"You just have to punch them in the head enough to gain their respect," Buck stated.

"Yeah, don't be such a wuss, Joey," Bush said, "You were the one all scared about going through the demilitarized zone."

"Because it was full of mines!"

"See, I would have thought the opposite with the name 'demilitarized zone,'" Bush commented, "If you were going to fill it with mines, shouldn't you call it the 'extra militarized zone'?"

"All I know is that it was cool to see that panda blow up," Buck laughed.

"That's something everyone has to see at least once in their life," Bush stated.

Suddenly they were all surrounded by North Korean troops.

"Uh... take us to your leader," Bush said.

* * * *

Bush, Urusemal, and Buck sat at a large table. "He makes us wait to show he has power over us," Urusemal said.

"It's working! I'll do whatever he says!" Bush exclaimed.

The large doors at the end of the room opened and out walked Kim Jon Il. "My hair is no longer poofy!"

"Wow," Bush answered, "You must have finally used that coupon to Super-Kutz I gave you."

"Yes! Hair cut now! You no longer make fun of poofy hair!"

"You still have those dumb glasses," Bush pointed out.

"You shut up!" Jong yelled. He then looked around. "Who are these others?"

"It's my friend Buck the Marine and President Joseph something-or-other of Micronesia so these talks are multilateral."

"What!" Jong exclaimed, "I never heard of that country."

"It's a real one," Bush replied, "Just don't ask me to point it out on a map."

"I could show you," Urusemal offered, "if the map is big enough."

"I do not care!" Jong shouted, "Did you remember your briefcase, President Bush?"

"I have it right here," Bush said, patting the briefcase on the table.

"Briefcase go on ground!" Jong shouted, "Ground place for briefcase!"

"Fine," Bush said, putting down the briefcase, "but, if I put the briefcase on the ground, then... uh... you have to dismantle all your nukes."

"Okay, it agreed," Jong agreed.

"Hey, negotiations are going great," Bush exclaimed, "Thanks for coming, Joey."

"Well, gosh, you know how Micronesia loves to help America."

"Yeah, you said that like a thousand times."

"Negotiations being done," Jong said, "before you all go you should LOOK AT THAT WALL OVER THERE!"

Bush, Buck, and Urusemal all looked at the wall across from them. "I don't see anything," Bush said, "How about you, Buck?"

"Looks like a wall," Buck answered.

"This might be a diversion," Urusemal suggested.

Bush stared harder at the wall. "Doesn't look like a diversion."

"You can stop looking at the wall and go," Jong said, "Muh hee hee hee."

"Was someone just behind me?" Bush asked. "Oh well." He then stood up and began to lift his briefcase. "Why'd this get so heavy all of a sudden?"

Jong tossed Bush handcuffs. "You handcuff to wrist to make sure you don't lose it." He then tossed another pair of handcuffs to Bush. "Why don't you cuff it to both hands."

"Wait!" Urusemal shouted, "I don't think that's your briefcase!"

"That's crazy," Bush said, "It's black; my briefcase is black."

"But it's much larger and looks heavier," Urusemal stated, "I think it might be a suitcase nuke."

Bush looked again at the briefcase. "Hey! You might be right!"

"I knew multilateral talks was a bad idea!" Jong shouted as he ran out of room, "Now I go to plan B - I launch nuke at America!"

"We have to stop him!" Bush yelled, "His nukes have a 20% chance of actually hitting California. It would take out a lot of blue-staters, but it's the principle of the thing."

Guards swarmed into the meeting room.

"Okay, Joey, you kill all the guards while Buck and I do something about the nuke launch," Bush said.

"Uh, usually ain't I the one who kills everybody?" Buck asked.

"Yeah, so I thought you'd want a change of pace."

"Nah, I like killing for'ners."

"Fine. You do that then."

"Ooh-rah!"

Bush turned to Urusemal. "Come with me, Joey, to stop that missile." Bush picked up the suitcase nuke. "We better get rid of this, too."

Bush and Urusemal ran to the next room as Buck got to kill�n. In the other room was a missile ready to launch. Up in a glass control room stood Kim Jong Il. "You will never stop me! America dies now! My hair is no longer poofy! Muh hee hee hee."

"It's too late to stop the launch," Urusemal said, "but I think I see a control panel from where I can retarget the missile."

"Good," Bush said, "Make it target the North Pole... oh, wait, Santa Claus is there. Make it target the South Pole. We'll be done with this soon enough."

The door then burst open. "Yeaaaargh!"

Bush rolled his eyes. "Not now."

* * * *

"We're to the final fight of the night," the fight coordinator said. "On one side, we have Mongo the Destroyer. Never been beaten." A muscle bound, seven foot man growled and pounded his fist into his palm. "On the other side is our last contender, the First Lady of Pain - Laura Bush. This former librarian will put your book under 'P' for 'Pain'!"

"Actually," Laura said, "Books are put on the shelves using the Dewey Decimal System. In the card catalogue, you might have a subject 'Pain' which would reference books that..."

"Just fight."

* * * *

Howard Dean knocked Bush back, slamming him against the soon to launch missile. "It's really not time for this partisanship," Bush pleaded, "We have a nuclear crisis."

"Hate Republicans and all they stand for!" Dean shouted, "Kill Republicans!"

Dean charged Bush again, and Bush swung the suitcase nuke at him. "Why won't you die!" Dean caught the suitcase and then swung it back, knocking Bush down. Dean then slammed the suitcase downwards, trying to crush Bush, but Bush rolled out of the way and handcuffed Dean's hand to the suitcase.

"Let's see you move toting that around," Bush laughed. Dean then started beating Bush with the suitcase like it was a ball and chain.

Bush scrambled for cover behind the missile. Dean swung the suitcase on chain at Bush, but it got stuck on part of the missile. Dean then swung his other hand around the missile trying to grab Bush.

"The missile is reprogrammed," Urusemal called out.

Bush handcuffed Dean's other hand to the suitcase so that Dean was now caught with both arms wrapped around the missile. "Looks like it has a passenger now," Bush said smugly, "Heh heh."

"Yeaaargh!" Dean screamed as he tried to pull free. The rocket then began to launch.

"If I knew the lyrics to 'Rocketman', it would be really funny to sing that now," Bush quipped.

* * * *

Jong ran down his secret escape path. "Stupid American never find me! My hair is no longer poofy!" Jong then caught sight of one of his gaurds. "Good, one of my guards is here to protect me... angriest guard we have." Jong rubbed his glasses to see better. "Actually, you look like angry dog." Jong took his glasses off and put his face right up to the guard and squinted. "Very angry."

* * * *

Bush settled back in the White House. "Good job, Joey, at the talks."

"Micronesia loves to help American in anyway, golly gosh," Urusemal answered.

"Good job, too, Buck; now catch the next flight back to Iraq 'cause we're kinda short on manpower there."

"Yes, sir!" Buck ran out of the building.

Bush looked around. "Now where is everyone?"

The phone then rang. "You've reached the White House and Cheney isn't here right now," Bush answered.

"It's your wife," Laura said, "Craziest thing happened. Donald, Dick, Condi, and I all got arrested for illegal street fighting and need bail money."

"That is crazy!" Bush exclaimed, "Especially since this is like the fourth time this happened." Bush hung up and looked to Urusemal. "Have any cash on you, Joey?"

"Uh... yes."

"You know all that aid we've given Micronesia? Well, it's time for you to give back. Off to the police station!"

* * * *

A scientist sat on the ice watching penguins waddle around. "I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere, freezing my ass off, observing stupid, flightless birds - can this get any worse?"

"Yeaaargh!" came a scream from the sky. The scientist looked up to see a missile headed his way.

"Aww... crap."

THE END

Part I
Part II

* * * *

"So what countries are Bush bringing to the multilateral talks with North Korea?"

"Uh... other ones," White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan answered.

"Why does Bush want to kill Iraqi children?" Helen Thomas screeched, "Why is he planning to attack Iraq and kill Iraqi children? What did they ever do to him?"

"The main attack on Iraq has been over for quite some time, Helen," Scott answered, "Have you been taking your pills?"

"Don't avoid the questions, Ari!" she shot back.

"Someone please watch that woman," Scott pleaded. "Any more questions?"

"Why is Attorney General Alberto Gonzales running around in a poncho and sombrero tasering people until they admit to being terrorists?"

"Every Attorney General has to find his own style," Scott responded.

"And why does he have a thick Mexican accent now when he didn't before?"

"That was Bush's idea, actually. I'll take one more question."

"New tapes revealed that Bush did use marijuana. Does he not never use no marijuana now?"

"No," Scott answered firmly, then looked a little confused, "Or yes... or... uh... could you repeat that? Actually, let me just make this statement: The President of the United States does not use drugs."

* * * *

Bush held out a joint to President Joseph Urusemal of Micronesia. "Want to get high? All the cool presidents do it."

"Uh... no thanks."

"Good," Bush said as he put it away, "because then I'd have to strangle you. We need to set a good example to the kids."

"That's so right, President Bush. You are very smart!"

"Could you stop sucking up for a second, Joey? It's getting tiresome."

A stewardess walked by. "Please put your seats into their upright and locked position in preparation for landing."

"I don't have to do jack! I'm the president!" Bush shouted.

The stewardess huffed off.

"You see that, Joey? That's power," Bush said smugly as he lay back in his seat.

* * * *

"Ow! My neck!" Bush exclaimed as he stumbled off the plane, "If only I had put my seat in that locked, upright position."

"Maybe I can give you neck rub," Urusemal suggested.

"Get away from me, Joey. Let's just get into town and talk to that poofy-haired dork."

As they got further into town, Bush took in the surroundings. "Certainly not like I expected North Korea. A lot more Muslims. A lot less Asians. And then there is that 'Unwelcome to Iran' sign." Bush slapped his forehead. "Dagnabbit! I should have never have taken Air Force Four just to save money."

As Bush and Urusemal walked into the center of town, they found themselves surrounded by angry looking Muslim clerics.

"Hey I'm sorry I didn't veil myself or whatever it is you need me to do to go with the belief system of you freaks," Bush said.

"We are the mad mullahs," one announced, "We had your flight diverted so we can kill the friend of yours." He pointed to Urusemal.

"Wow!" Urusemal exclaimed excitedly, "No president of Micronesia has been so important before to be targeted for assassination."

"Don't worry, Joey," Bush told him, "These jackasses couldn't kill a fly."

"On the contrary, infidel," one shouted as they all raised their staffs which began to glow, "We were given dark powers by Allah himself!"

"What did Allah look like?" Bush asked curiously.

"He's red, has horns, a forked tail, and the legs of a goat," answered one mullah.

"Sounds like Karl Rove."

The mullah sent a dark blast of power at the feet of Bush and Urusemal, sending them flying back. Bush grabbed the Micronesian and ran into a building for cover.

"Am I going to die?" Urusemal asked, "and, if I do, how will that affect relations between our two countries?"

"I'm not going to let you die," Bush said as he took out a radio, "If I let a head of state die on my watch, they won't ever let me have another." He fiddled with the radio. "If I could only get contact with Iraq, I could get some troops to help us... or more terrorists to kill us."

* * * *

"There's nothing left to target 'cept journalists," Buck the Marine said, moping about the base in Iraq.

"The President is under attack in Iran," Buck's commanding officer announced, "Let' see... Gomez still has paint on him from helping build that school, Johnson is on KP duty, so it's up to you Buck."

"How many Iranians do I need to be fighting, sir?" Buck asked.

"As many as needed! Now get going!"

* * * *

"Do you think it's odd we haven't heard from the president in so long?" Condoleezza Rice asked.

"I think I don't care," Rumsfeld answered.

"How long does he have to be missing until I get to be president?" Cheney asked.

"We can give him another hour or two," Rumsfeld said.

"Let's have a street fighting tournament until then!" Condi suggested.

Laura Bush burst into the room excitedly. "Did someone say street fighting?"

* * * *

"We will destroy you with our dark, Allah powers!" one mad mullah yelled.

"Just stay quiet, Joey," Bush warned Urusemal, "They'll eventually get distracted by some silly little thing they think is blasphemous. Then we can run for Korea from here."

Suddenly there was some shouting and gunfire followed by silence. The door to the building Bush and Urusemal were hiding in was kicked open, and there stood Buck the Marine.

"Wow!" Bush exclaimed, "How did you get past their evil superpowers?"

"I done shot them," Buck answered, "Ooh-rah!"

"Cool. Let's get out of here," Bush said as he stood up.

"Yeaaaaagh!" came a scream as Howard Dean crashed through the wall and plowed right into Bush. Both came crashing out another wall into the streets.

"Not you again!" Bush yelled as he tried to struggle away.

Dean grabbed Bush's leg. "Hate Republicans! Yeaaaagh!"

"Shoot him, Buck!" Bush called out.

"Alrighty," Buck said as he aimed his rifle and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. "Whoops, got a jam."

Dean threw Bush against another building. "Yeaaaaagh!"

"Help me, Joey!" Bush pleaded.

Urusemal backed away. "I don't want to be a part of your partisan squabbling; I need to have good relations no matter who is in office."

"Does someone have some keys to help me fish out this stuck casing?" Buck asked.

"Kill Republicans! Yeaaaagh!" Dean yelled as Bush was tossed. He hit the ground rolling. Dean charged Bush once again, but Bush stayed on the ground and used his legs to send Dean flying over him into a well.

"Grenade!" Bush yelled. Buck tossed him one, and Bush pulled the pin and dropped it down the well. He ducked and covered his ears as it exploded, collapsing the well in on itself.

"Hopefully that killed Dean for good," Bush said, dusting himself off. "Now, on to Korea!"

* * * *

"The American President is on his way," a North Korean intelligence agent said.

"Good!" Kim Jong Il said as he looked at a large metal suitcase and a picture of Bush's briefcase. "Paint it black!" he ordered.

"Won't the American President notice that his briefcase will have increased in size and now weighs over 45 pounds?" one worker asked.

"No! He stupid!" Jong shouted, "That why I need talks with only America. Any other countries come, they may notice switch. But not dummy Bush! Do you not see my hair? I cut it, and it is no longer poofy! I know what I talk of! Bush will take back suitcase nuke and blow up own country. Then he poofy-haired one! Muh hee hee hee!"

TO BE CONCLUDED...

Part I

* * * *

"Howard Dean is certainly showing a lot of energy having just thrown Bush out the window of the Japanese embassy," CNN's Lefty Stevens commented, "As Dean proceeds to try and beat Bush to death, many may see that as a partisan gesture, but it sure is rallying his base."

"Kill! Blood! Kill!" shouted the gathered Democrats.

"We'll keep following this story as it unfolds," Stevens announced, "and then go to the news round up with more slander against the military."

"Yeaaaagh!" Dean screamed as he charged Bush. Bush rolled out of the way and Dean plowed into a brick wall, getting his head stuck in it. Bush ran over and delivered a series of kidney punches, but Dean pulled his head out of the brick wall and continued at Bush unperturbed.

"There's no stopping him!" Bush exclaimed as he backed away.

Dean ripped a streetlight out of the ground and swung it at Bush like a bat. "Yeaaagh!"

Bush went flying and hit the ground rolling. "I'm gonna feel that in the morning." He got up and turned to Dean. "I have some very important business with North Korea right now; can we save this partisan bickering for later?"

"Hate Republicans! Yeaaaagh!" Dean screamed as he ran at Bush. Bush fled as fast as he could, and then spotted a building marked as "Condemned" and ran for its door.

"Wait!" yelled a demolitions man, "We're about to blow up that building!"

"Yes," Bush answered as he continued towards it, "And set the explosives off at my mark." He kept running, and then paused for a moment to turn back to the demolitions man. "The signal will be me screaming like a little girl."

Bush came in through the door, and Dean then burst in through the wall. "Yeaaaagh! Your war is full of lies! Lies!"

"Shut up!" Bush yelled back as he fled up the stairs. He then took off his suit jacket and dangled it in front of him like a matador. "Come and get me, Howie."

"Yeaaagh!" Dean charged Bush who deftly moved aside and let Dean plow into a wall. Bush then jumped out a window and used his jacket to slide away on a power line.

"Eeeeee!" Bush screamed, and the building exploded behind him. The power line then gave way, and Bush plummeted to the pavement.

"I hate the Republicans and everything they stand for!" Dean was heard to shout as the building collapsed about him.

Bush looked up to see Condoleezza Rice standing over him. "Bravo. You outwitted a raving lunatic."

"Always knew I could," Bush said as he stood up and dusted himself off. He then looked to the smoldering ruins of the building. "Do you think he's dead?"

"You slowed him down at least," Condi answered, "Anyway, the Japanese found it very dishonorable how you snubbed their meeting to have a street fight and now won�t help us. Also, I talked to the Chinese, and they won't help us because they're damn Commies."

"But we can't have unilateral talks with North Korea!" Bush yelled, "That�s just what Jongy-boy wants! We need allies." Bush stopped to think.

After a while of silence, Condi prompted, "And?"

"Give me a little longer," Bush responded, "I ain't good at this."

* * * *

"If we nuked them, then they'd only be a nuclear threat in that they themselves would be irradiated," Rumsfeld suggested.

"No new wars right now," Bush answered.

Rumsfeld glanced at Condi. "I guess the administration is full of girls now."

"By the way, Rummy," Bush said, "Can I borrow Chomps, the world's angriest dog, to help protect me against Howard Dean, the world's angriest Democrat?"

"He has a busy schedule of hippy mauling," Rumsfeld responded, "He doesn't have time to be your bodyguard."

Bush looked to Chomps who was lying at Rumsfeld's feet. "Maybe he's just scared."

Chomps growled and snapped at Bush. Bush jumped on the table in the war room and then leapt up to the light fixture above to get away.

"One of your politician friends is here," Laura Bush called.

"Send him in," Bush said as he got back down and Chomps went back to his sleeping spot.

"Wow! Golly gosh!" shouted a man as he entered, "Thanks for asking me over!"

"And who is this?" Condi asked Bush.

"It's Joseph... uh... tell everyone your name."

"I'm Joseph Urusemal, and it's super cool to be here!"

"He's the prime minister or king or tribal leader or whatever of Micronesia," Bush explained.

"I'm a president, just like you!" Urusemal exclaimed, "We're so much like America in Micronesia and just love helping out."

"That's great, Joey," Bush said with a forced smile.

"Micronesia?" Condi questioned.

"They're one of the few countries in the world that try to suck up to us," Bush whispered to her, "We need these talks to be multilateral, and he was the only one that agreed to come."

"We're going to give those mean 'ole North Koreans such a talking to, ya betcha!" Urusemal said excitedly, "You can't go wrong with Micronesia on your side!"

Rumsfeld chuckled. "Looks like I'm going to have that war after all."

* * * *

"We have the intelligence you asked for." The intelligence agent handed over a document to Kim Jon Il.

Jong eagerly opened the folder to see a picture of a briefcase. "You're sure this is the president's?"

"Quite sure."

"Excellent! Hee hee hee!" Jong giggled with girlish glee.

"One problem," the intelligence agent said, "Bush is bringing another head of state with him to the talks."

"No!" Jong shouted, "That will ruin my plans! We need to get him here alone!" Jong turned to the mullah from Iran standing in the room. "If you want America destroyed and nuclear weapons of your own, you stall Bush while I intimidate the South Koreans. Also, kill whoever is with him!"

The mullah smiled. "It will be done."

TO BE CONTINUED...

"Release the lock!"

An aide held one end of a long rope and yanked it, pulling open the lock of the giant cage. The door was kicked open, and out came a growling and snarling creature.

"Ladies, gentleman, I present you the new head of the Democratic National Committee."

"Yeaaaaagh!" Howard Dean screamed as he overturned his desk. He then lifted up a chair and smashed it over his own head.

"Yeaaaaagh!

"Remember to stay on message!" suggested an aide.

Dean grabbed the man by his neck and lifted him into the air. "Yeaaaagh!" Dean screamed as he threw the man out the window.

"The message is that the Bush administration is full of lies!" Dean shrieked. "Lies! Lies!" he repeated as he punched through the drywall. He then turned towards the cameras and charged them. "Hate Republicans! Kill Republicans!" He threw a punch at a camera, and the screen went to static.

"I don't get it," Bush said as he turned off the T.V., "So are the Democrats trying to energize themselves, or is this some form of elaborate political suicide?"

"They're the frick'n Hindenburg," Cheney commented, "I just would make sure not to be anywhere near them as they burst into flames and plummet toward the earth."

"I wouldn't be so dismissive of Dean, though," Bush said, "I hear when he gets in his rages, bullets can't stop him."

Karl Rove emerged from the shadows. "The Book of Punditry has prophesized such things," he intoned, "'A bomb in the form of a man will lead the opposition, and all must be done to stay away when he explodes.' We must do everything to not engage this force of rage." Rove then faded back into the darkness.

"We really have other things to worry about, Mr. President," Condoleezza Rice stated.

"Why? The elections result in Iraq are in," Bush answered, "I brought democracy where there once was none. I'm a God among men!"

"But there is the problem of Iran and North Korea still," Condi said, "Especially now that North Korea has announced they have nuclear weapons."

"Again!" Bush exclaimed, "That's horrible!" Bush then paused for a moment. "North Korea is the bad Korea, right?"

Condi rolled her eyes. "Yes."

"That's horrible!" Bush repeated, "but I guess there can't be any real trouble as long as their leader is a stupid poofy-haired freak."

Condi gulped. "He cut his hair, sir."

There was a long silence in the room. "They have to be stopped!"

"Kim Jon Il is demanding bilateral talks between just us and them," Condi stated.

"No way!" Bush answered, "I hate Asian people."

"I have a solution to all this," Rumsfeld said, standing up and fixing his tie, "War! War! Kill! Kill!" Rumsfeld ripped a world map off of the wall and started stomping on it.

"Those are expensive to replace, Rummy," Bush whined.

Rumsfeld turned to Condi. "I bet the diplomat has some talky answer to all this."

Condi stood up and stared Rumsfeld in the face. "If all the concerned nations could act in concert, we could convince North Korea back into multilateral talks."

"Bah!" Rumsfeld snorted, "Being the Secretary of State has made you weak! You could never be the Secretary of War like me!"

Condi curled her hand into a fist.

"Hey, let's stop all the fuss'n and the feud�n," Bush said as he stepped between them, "We'll try talking to North Korea, and, if that doesn't work, we'll explode into an orgy of violence. Sound good to you, Big Time?"

"This doesn't involved more oil contracts for Halliburton," Cheney stated, "So I don't give a rat's ass."

Bush smiled. "Then we are all in agreement."

* * * *

"I am Kim Jong Il!" Kim Jong Il shouted, "I am very powerful! I am also very sexy! Look, my hair is no longer poofy!"

"It certainly is not, sir," his aide answered.

"And I have nuclear weapons!" Jong said, "Americans now very scared of me! Nuclear weapons very scary! I have them now!" Jong then grabbed a nuclear warhead and started shaking it. "My nuclear weapon! Mine!"

"Please be careful with that, sir," the aide warned, gently pulling Jong away.

"I have many plans for America!" Jong stated, "They will be destroyed! They will be the poofy-haired ones! Muh hee hee hee hee!"

* * * *

Bush sat in the waiting room of the Japanese embassy. "Who could they be talking to right now who is more important than me?" he mused aloud, "I didn't get stuck behind Jesus again, did I?"

Suddenly the wall exploded open, and there was Howard Dean staring right at Bush. "Republicans evil! Republicans die! Yeaaaaagh!"

Bush reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of 9mm rounds. He threw them in Dean's face, but he shrugged them off and continued charging Bush.

"Oh no! Bullets really can't stop him!"

TO BE CONTINUED...

"Frankly, Mr. President, I don't think there could be a bigger waste of time than analyzing the Democrats' response to your State of the Union Address," Cheney stated.

"But I know they�re up to something!" Bush declared, "There must be some dark purpose behind this seemingly inept and incompetent speech." Bush watched the screen. "Reid is gay, right?"

"I'm going to go do some real work," Cheney said as he left the office, "You consider accepting that the Democrats really are just incompetent idiots."

Bush turned off the T.V. as Alberto Gonzales entered the office. "Good job not getting filibustered, amigo," Bush told him, "And now that you're Attorney General, I want to give you this sombrero of authority."

"I'm not wearing some stupid sombrero!" Alberto yelled.

"But it goes with your poncho!" Bush protested.

Alberto snatched the sombrero and put it on. "Fine."

A little Scotty dog pup ran into the room and yelled. "Yip! Yip!"

"What the hell is this poor excuse for a Chihuahua?" Alberto demanded.

"That's my new Scotty pup, Miss Beazley."

With a sharp kick, Alberto sent the dog flying out the door of the Oval Office. "Sorry," he said, "but when I see a puppy, I just have to kick it."

"And those were exactly the sort of qualities I was looking for in an Attorney General," Bush smiled, "Now get to work."

As Alberto left the office, White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan entered. "I need to talk to you about how to field questions about your Social Security plan," he said.

"Simple," Bush stated as he walked over to Scott and handed him an object. "Take this brick. If some reporter calls my plan a scheme or seems to demean my ideas, you smash him in the face with the brick. Don't make the mistake I did and throw it, though, because then you lose the brick and can't bash anyone else with it."

"I dunno..."

"Just get to it, tubby!" Bush yelled as he kicked Scott out of his office.

Condoleezza Rice then entered. "Did you want to see me?" she asked impatiently.

"Yes," Bush said sternly, "I heard you met with Saudi ambassador and broke his nose!"

She shrugged. "So?"

"Where's the video?" Bush demanded, "That sounds funny!"

"I don't like having video evidence of my actions," Condi said coldly.

"But it would great for the holiday blooper reel!" Bush pleaded.

"Anything else?" Condi asked, "What are we doing about the findings on the oil for food scandal?"

"I'm having my favorite U.N. peacekeeper look into that," Bush snickered.

Condi rolled her eyes. "You didn't put a blue helmet on that rottweiler Chomps and send him to the U.N. headquarters to maul everyone, did you? Frankly, I'm getting tired of that antic."

"And I never tire of the humor of maulings," Bush answered.

"One of these days, they're going to wise up and realize that a dog with a blue helmet on isn't a real peacekeeper."

"And that will be a sad day."

Condi headed from the office. "I've got more 'diplomacy' to do."

Senator Joe Lieberman came in next. "You said you wanted to see me."

"Yes, I just wanted to thank you for your continued support and playing the party line," Bush said.

Lieberman looked confused. "Excuse me?"

"I just wanted to personally talk with all the Republicans in the Senate and make sure we're united for the same cause against the Democrats who will be blocking our agenda."

"But I'm a Democrat."

Bush furrowed his brow. "Are you sure?"

"I am. I even was on the ticket that ran against you in 2000."

"Really?" Bush said incredulously, "But you even voted for my torturing Mexican."

"I thought he just made honest legal opinions."

* * * *

"Attorney General, we have a man in custody we suspect of being Arab and maybe even Muslim. We were wondering if connecting his genitals to a car battery would be considered torture."

"In my opinion..." Alberto said as he thought for a moment, "I don't give a rat's ass."

"Are you sure?"

"Hey! Who's wearing the sombrero?" Alberto shouted angrily, "You don't question me!" Alberto slumped in his chair and put his sombrero over his face. "Now don't bother me for the next couple hours; it's siesta."

* * * *

"Well, if you're convinced you�re a Democrat, I don't feel like arguing with you," Bush said, "I bid you adieu."

As Lieberman left, Laura Bush walked in. "Have you seen Miss Beazley?"

"She went flying in that direction," Bush answered pointing towards the door.

Laura set a folder on the desk. "Anyway, I corrected the spelling and grammar in these war plans for you."

Bush snatched them up. "Those are classified!"

"Then you shouldn't have left them on the coffee table. When I found them, Barney was ripping out the pages."

"Barney has ruined more war plans than any other small size dog," Bush griped.

"So how is your day going?" Laura asked.

"Well, next in my schedule is more samurai sword practice in case of another ninja attack. Then I was going to meet with Rumsfeld, but I think he's busy with the press answering questions about the times he tried to resign."

"Those were the resignation letters written in his blood, right?"

"I'm pretty sure it was someone else's blood. Couldn't accept them, though. If Rumsfeld were let go, he'd go on a rampage. At least while he's in my cabinet, we can keep an eye on him."

* * * *

"So what exactly led you to offer letters of resignation?" a reporter asked.

"I don't want to talk about it," Rumsfeld snapped back, "Do you have some other namby-pamby questions?"

"I won't stop until I get the truth!" the reported declared.

"Rarr!" Rumsfeld yelled as he picked up the reporter and threw him out a window. Rumsfeld then punched the wall behind him, ripped out a pipe, and held it over his head ready to strike as water sprayed everywhere. "Rarr!"

"Run away!" the other reporters yelled as they scrambled over each other to get out of the press room.

Rumsfeld turned to see Chomps angrily lapping up the water that was spraying out of the hole in the wall. Rumsfeld dropped his pipe and patted Chomps on the head. "If I had resigned, I'd be able to spend all my time killing fools like them. Well, I guess I have to leave something for retirement."

"Powell, you look different," Bush said, "More determined, fiercer, much scarier... and you're wearing a skirt. I like it."

"It's me, Condoleezza Rice," Condi stated, "I've replaced Colin Powell as Secretary of State, remember?"

"No, not all. And, since I forget what that is, I don't care. So do you have some department to run or something? This is my pencil sharpening day and I don't like to be bothered."

"I run the State Department and handle diplomacy!" Condi shouted indignantly.

"Diplomacy," Bush chuckled as he sharpened a pencil, "Well, have fun talking and writing memos and stuff, goober."

"I'm going to take things in another direction," Condi declared.

"Shh! Can't hear the sharpening!"

Condi left the Oval Office and saw Donald Rumsfeld outside. "Now I'm a cabinet member like you," she said cheerily.

"Bah!" Rumsfeld grumbled, "You're Secretary of State. You have to talk to people and forge relations - women's work! Why don't you get to that and knitting while I plot the destruction of nations' infrastructures."

Condi growled and stomped off.

* * * *

"Great," Condi grumbled to herself, "My memo on the State Department's new direction got blocked because our e-mail filter's out vulgarity. I guess I'll just have to set the new tone by burning something prominent and then announce our new mission statement: 'Death to our enemies!'"

The phone rang at her desk. "What?" Condi demanded.

"It's your auto mechanic, Dr. Rice. It's going to take longer to get out those dents than I thought. What exactly did you hit?"

"A California Senator. What of it?"

"Well, there's dents in the front and back..."

"And there is a little thing called the reverse gear. Now get it done!"

* * * *

"This is your first diplomatic meeting," Condi said to herself, "Now don't get nervous." She then walked into the office.

Jacques Chirac approached her with his hand extended. "I would like to say..."

A sharp punch sent Chirac to the floor gripping his bloody nose. "You have nothing to say that interests me," Condi spat at him.

"You warmongering fool!" Chirac shouted as he got to his feet, "What are you doing?"

"Just getting off on the right foot!" Condi said as she kicked Chirac in the crotch.

"Aieee!" Chirac screeched, "You kicked me so hard, my testicles have swollen to the size of grapes!"

"Don't bore me with your hyperbole," Condi stated. "So, am I going to have problems with you?"

�Here; I surrender!" Chirac tossed some keys and a disk to Condi. "Here are the keys to our buildings and all our codes!"

Condi tossed them back at him. "You country is useless to me. Now stay out of the U.S.'s way."

Chirac curled into a fetal position. "Yes, ma'am."

"Off to a great start," Condi smiled as she walked off.

* * * *

"So, now I think you can understand how the Iraqi elections are a new turning point for the Middle East," Condi said. She then turned to the Germans behind her. "Do you think he can hear me through the drywall?"

"Maybe you could remove his head from it?" suggested one German.

"I'll take his head out of the wall when I want his head out of the wall!" Condi shouted.

* * * *

"Condi!" Bush yelled, stopping her in the hallway, "While I was emptying out my pencil shavings, I heard that you've been beating up foreign diplomats and a news report that you're the first Secretary of State to use a sock full of nickels in negotiations."

"I'm making my own style," Condi declared.

"I dunno..."

"I read it all in a book somewhere," Condi assured.

"Well, as long as it's from a book," Bush said dubiously. "Still, how you put Abbas in the hospital for a week is going to slow down negotiations in Israel. On the other hand, I really wanted to spend that weekend playing videogames anyway, so good work."

"Thanks." Condi walked off.

Alberto Gonzales ran to Bush. "When do I get to be Attorney General?" Alberto demanded, "I want to torture terrorists!"

"I know; we all do," Bush answered sympathetically, "but you have to wait until after your confirmation hearing during which the Democrats will all yell at you."

"I'll lock them up and torture them too!" Alberto swore.

"All in good time, my Mexican friend. All in good time."

"Hey, democracy is fun and cool," Buck the Marine said as he approached an Iraqi and handed out a pamphlet.

"What's this say?" asked the Iraqi.

"I dunno; ain't my job to read things," Buck answered indignantly, "Come to think of it, ain't my job to hand out pamphlets, but here I am. Anyway, why don't you consider voting? You know, we've been here a while trying to set this up, and it ain't exactly been a picnic."

"Stop badgering people into voting!" said a U.N. official behind Buck, "It's their choice whether to risk their lives for your failed experiment of democracy."

"Hey, we worked hard on this - getting all shot and blown up - and we just want to help everyone vote without them getting hurt or nothing," Buck answered, "Now you get out of here before you make a Marine mad!"

"Ha! You're not allowed to harm me!" the U.N. official laughed.

Buck bowed his head. "Yeah, I was explicitly ordered not to harm the U.N." When he looked up again, the U.N. official lay dead. "What happened?"

"What happened about what?" Rumsfeld asked as he put away his strangling gloves.

"Hey, it's the Secretary of the Defense!" Buck exclaimed.

"Yeah, I decided to come here since this election is important," Rumsfeld said, "If it goes well, Bush will let me start another war." Rumsfeld walked to the Iraqi. "So are you going to vote?"

"Well, I'm afraid the Zarqawi's people will..."

"Be afraid of me!" Rumsfeld shouted, "I will kill you if you don't vote! Rarr!"

"Okay!" the Iraqi cried, cowering, "Who do you want me to vote for?"

"You�re supposed to choose him yourself!" Rumsfeld shouted, "Don't you understand and appreciate democracy? Rarr!"

The Iraqi ran away in fear.

"Maybe you should just try handing out these pamphlets," Buck suggested.

A little Iraqi boy tugged at Rumsfeld's suit coat. "Can I vote?" he asked.

"No, you're too young."

"Can I vote when I'm older?" he asked hopefully.

"Only if your parents don't screw things up. Now stop bothering me."

"Here, I have something even better than voting," Buck said, approaching the child, "Candy!" He gave the kid a Jolly Rancher.

"Yay!" the child exclaimed as he ran off, "I love Americans!"

"Doesn't that give you a warm feeling inside?" Buck asked, smiling.

"Only whiskey does that," Rumsfeld answered, "Let's get to work now. I know there are terrorists trying to scare people from voting, so let's scare them back. And by scare, I mean kill. We just have to wrap some towels around our heads and pretend to be terrorists to infiltrate their group."

"But right now I'm assigned to..."

"I'm the Secretary of War! You will do as I say!"

"Yes sir!"

* * * *

"Hi, I'm Rumhommed," Rumsfeld said as he entered an Iraqi establishment, "and this is my friend, Buckmed the Marine. We want to help stop the vote."

"Good!" said the terrorist, "We Islamic fundamentalists hate democracy, sunshine, rainbows, happiness, and puppy dogs and wish to stop them all. Follow me."

The terrorist led them to another room. "Here are our three snipers. They will be very important in scaring people from voting. Thus we... Hey! They've all been strangled to death!"

"It happens," Rumsfeld said putting away his strangling gloves, "So what else do you have here?"

"Well, luckily we have our bomb expert, Omar, standing over here," the terrorist continued, "With just his efforts alone we will be able to... Ah! He's been strangled as well!"

"Darn inconvenient, isn't it?" Rumsfeld said, putting away his strangling gloves.

"I bet someone in our organization is working against us from the inside!" the terrorist declared, "Luckily, over here is the wise Ahkmed who will be able to ferret out the perpetrator. Now, Ahkmed... Aieee! He is now dead from strangling!"

"He'll be missed," Rumsfeld said, putting away his strangling gloves.

"Now all I have is our mascot, Chippers the monkey, to cheer me up," the terrorist said in a depressed tone, "Why don't you dance for us, Chippers... Oh no! He has been strangled dead now too! Who would strangle a monkey?"

"Someone in arms length, most likely," Rumsfeld said, putting away his strangling gloves.

"That only leaves the three of us," the terrorist said suspiciously, "and I know I didn't strangle anyone. Thus, it's one of you two! Now, Buckmed the Marine seems to have an honest face, but, as for you, Rumhommed... ack... erk."

"There, everyone is dead," Rumsfeld said, putting away his strangling gloves.

"But there are more terrorist groups," Buck stated.

"If these Iraqis want independence, they have to learn to strangle people themselves," Rumsfeld said as he walked out the building.

Buck looked over the town as the sun set. "This could be a great place if they get freedom along with some good 'ole American know-how."

"Whatever," Rumsfeld growled, "Now let's go to a bar and get as drunk as a Kennedy."

"We aren't allowed alcohol here," Buck said.

"Then let's smuggle in some booze like the Kennedys of old."

"Ooh-rah!"

TO BE CONTINUED OVER THE WEEKEND AT AN IRAQ NEAR YOU, GOD WILLING

Bush dialed a number at the phone at his desk in the Oval Office. "Guess who's still President! ...That's right: me, bitch! ...Yes, I do have to call you 'bitch,' you dumb frog... What do you mean I should foster better diplomatic relations with you? What the hell do I need France for? I have Colorado for dumping nuclear waste in. Well, I guess I can use for dumping old bombs. Anyhoo, tell your terrorists friends I'm coming for them soon."

Bush dialed another number. "Geuntetag and gesundheit, guess who's president again, you stupid kraut... That's right! Now say my name! ...Say it! ...Put more emphasis on the 'dubya.' ...Yeah, that's my name, and you better get used to it because it's going to be around for another four, mo'fo'."

Bush hung up and dialed another number. "Hey, you don't sound like Arafat... He's dead? Probably died because he heard I'm president again. Yeah, that's right! So who is this? ...Well, Abbas, better watch what you do 'cause I'm president again!"

Bush hung up and kicked over his desk. "Time for more action!"

Scott McClellan ran up to him. "I�m about to hold a press conference, and I was wondering..."

"I'll handle this one," Bush announced.

"I don't know if that's wise."

Bush backhanded Scott to the ground. "Shut up. I'm president again!"

Bush walked out to greet the press.

"What is your reaction to how, during the confirmation hearings, Condoleezza Rice pulled out a Tec 9 and..."

"Shut up!" Bush yelled, "I'm president again! Now I ask the questions!" He thought for a moment. "Nah... that would mean you people would still talk. How about I just say stuff and you listen. First off: I'm president again! I don't have to worry about reelection, so I can do anything I wan'!"

"But..." one reporter began to say.

"Hey, I wonder if any of you reporters can catch this paperweight with your head." Bush threw a heavy paperweight at the reporters, smacking one in the head and sending him to the ground. "Guess the CBS correspondent wins. Heh heh."

"I think you gave him a concussion!"

"I know I did!" Bush declared, "'cause I'm the president again! Now listen up, dumbasses: It's time for me to put my unaccountability to good use. After I feel I'm done with Iraq, I'm going to start attacking other countries. 'cept now, I ain't even going to tell you people why. I don't have to justify myself; I'm president again! As for domestic, I'm giving all the tax cuts to the rich... the really really rich! No one can stop me... 'cause I'm president again! And I'm going to change Social Security... even if I have to throw all the old people out onto the streets. Even the Democrats can�t whine their way out of that one... 'cause I'm president again! Then I'm going to do targeted missile strikes on people in Hollywood and college professor's I don't like. Some may call that suppressing freedom of speech, to which I say, 'I'm president again!' Oh, and I'm going to have protestors forcefully bathed."

"You're insane!" a reporter shouted.

Bush kicked him in the face. "Damn straight, so best stay outta my way! Yee-haw!"

A car sped into the crowd of reporters, hitting a few. The door opened to show the soon to be Attorney General.

"What's up, Speedy Gonzales?" Bush asked.

"I told you not to call me that!" Alberto shouted back, "Anyway, I saw some people standing around looking suspicious, so I thought we might go violate their rights."

"Sounds fun," Bush answered, "You have your sombrero?"

"I keep telling you I don't wear one, you stupid gringo!"

"Do you have your pi�ata bat at least?"

"Of course! Do you think I'm loco?"

Bush jumped in the passenger side of the car and put on some sunglasses. "Let's roll!"

"Here's your new sister, Miss Beazley," Laura Bush said as she set down the puppy in front of Barney.

"Yipe! Yipe!" Barney yelled angrily at the Scotty dog pup.

"Yip! Yip!" Miss Beazley responded fiercely.

"Yipe! Yipe!" Barney snarled, moving closer.

"Yip! Yip!" Miss Beazley barked, holding her ground.

"Will you two shut up!" President Bush yelled, throwing down the comic section of the newspaper. "You sound like the U.N. Next thing I know, you'll be barking about how the Jews control everything."

"They'll take some time to get used to each other," Laura said.

"Just lock them in a closet," Bush stated, "I have important things to get done."

"That's bad parenting."

"Worked on the girls."

"They're in a cross-country shooting spree with the feds after numerous bank robberies!" Laura shouted.

"And they haven't been caught yet," Bush said as he picked back up the paper. "Hey, you read about these people theorizing that Abraham Lincoln was gay? You know, once when the ghost of Lincoln turned into a fiery demon and chased me down one of the White House hallways, he stopped for a moment to comment on the drapes."

"You and the ghost of Lincoln get along as I take the dogs for a walk," Laura stated as she led out the dogs.

Bush's paper flew out of his hands. "Stop stealing my paper, Lincoln!" Bush shouted.

"I also hid your remote!" answered an unearthly voice, "Muh ha ha ha!"

"Dang. Better just get to work." Bush walked out and soon spotted Scott McClellan. "My inauguration is coming up really soon," Bush told him, "and I want to make sure my second term is the best in the history of the universe. Thus, I want my new cabinet prepared. Now, one thing I'm concerned about is if the terrorists find the location of our Hidden Valley. If they attack that, it could cut off our critical ranch dressing supplies. Pass that on to the soon to be Secretary of Homeland Security Bernard Kerik."

"Uh... he withdrew because of scandals."

"Then pass it on to whomever we're filling that post with."

"For one thing," Scott said, "I'm your Press Secretary, not your personal aide. Second..."

"And get me a soda, bitch!" Bush shouted and slapped Scott across the back of his head.

Scott scurried off and Bush then found Condoleezza Rice and Colin Powell together. "Good. Colin, I need you to teach Condi everything you know about Secretary of State."

"Well..."

Powell was silenced by a sharp punch, knocking him to the floor. "I already have all the knowledge I need. Hearing him talk will only make me dumber."

"Good," Bush said, "That will save time."

"I wanted Secretary of Defense, though!" Condi shouted.

"But Rummy is doing a good job," Bush answered, "and... well... I'd be too scared to fire him. But, if he leaves the job for some reason..."

"Or an accident befalls him," Condi added, grinning evilly.

"Yeah, or if that, then Secretary of Defense is yours."

"Muh ha ha ha!" Condi laughed.

"Good to see you've gotten your humor back," Bush smiled. He then turned to Alberto Gonzales. "Now, I want you to go talk to little Johnny Ashcroft to learn everything he knows. No wearing a sombrero while being Attorney General or calling everyone 'stupid gringos' which I know you'll want to do since you're Mexican."

"I'm American, sir."

"That's the spirit," Bush said, slapping Alberto on the back, "Also, the cafeteria serves burritos, so it will seem like you're right at home." Bush then walked off.

"Stupid gringo," Alberto muttered.

* * * *

"Well, golly gosh, muchacho" John Ashcroft said, "let me think of all the things to tell you." He pointed to a room off to the side that had a pad of paper and pen hanging on the wall and crumpled paper on the ground. "This is where we start the day. You write a human right on a piece of paper and then throw it on the ground and trample it. It's to get you in spirit for the rest of the day, by golly."

"Whatever, churchy," Alberto responded, "What else is there?"

"Jeepers, let me think." Ashcroft then pointed to a room where people were busy typing. "Here is where we make new bills such as the Patriot Act, the I Love America Act, the Only People Who Hate Baby Jesus Would Be Against this Act Act, and the Happy Act."

"Happy Act? I haven't heard of that one."

"Well, jeepers, it's a new one," Ashcroft said, "It allows us to lock in prison without a trial anyone who questions the act."

"Why? What's in the act that people would question?"

"Actually, by golly, the only thing in the act is the provision to lock up people who question it. It's to weed out those who just criticize everything we do."

"Sounds good. Now let's get to the cool stuff."

"Jeepers, slow down there, my Hispanic colleague," Ashcroft said, "There's a lot to the rest of our operations. Now, we threw a number of suspects in dank holes without a trial - or paperwork - and I forgot where those holes are. So, you might want to try finding some when you start your job. Just listen for, 'Help! Help! I'm being repressed!' and mark down the location."

"I'll have some secretary do that," Alberto responded, "I ain't looking for holes all day. There's no one in them I care about."

"That's the spirit," Ashcroft declared, "Now, these rooms over here are where we torture suspected terrorists to get information or because it's a slow day and we're bored. Now, first you take a car battery and..."

"I know how to hook up a car battery to a man," Alberto shouted, "Do you think I'm stupid because I'm Hispanic?"

"Well, yes, yes I do. Have I been speaking too quickly for you?"

"Just finish showing me this place before I decide to smack you around," Alberto answered angrily.

"Golly. Okay. I guess I better introduce you to Psycho Stan, head of the ATF. He's a hold over from Reno."

"Just point me in a direction and people will die and buildings will burn!" Psycho Stan snarled, looking on the verge of snapping.

"Best to be careful how you use him," Ashcroft said, "as he tends to not leave people in a condition good for questioning, by golly. You should keep him busy, though, or he'll get bored and just start randomly shooting stuff."

"I ain't killing no one right now!" Psycho Stan declared angrily.

"Jeepers. Just wait a moment." Ashcroft then picked up a sack, "Here is our mailbag, Mr. Mexican Man. It's usually full of letters that say mean things about me and hurt my feelings, golly gosh." Ashcroft took out a letter and read it aloud. "'Dear Ashcroft, you are a stupid fundamentalist who tramples people's rights. You should lose your job and go to prison.'" A tear rolled down Ashcroft�s cheek. "That was hurtful." He handed the letter to Psycho Stan. "Find who wrote this and throw him in a dark hole where he'll never be found." Ashcroft then looked in the mailbag again. "Hey, here's a letter for you, Gonzales."

Alberto took the letter. "'Gonzales, how you allowed torture in Guantanamo Bay is criminal. You should never be Attorney General.'" Alberto handed the letter to Psycho Stan. "Find this stupid gringo and send him to Gitmo for torture."

"I'll burn his house down, too," Psycho Stan snarled before running off.

"Now let's get you a burrito since you're Mexican," Ashcroft said as he led Alberto to the cafeteria.

"There better be good salsa... or I'm gonna cut someone!"

* * * *

The doorbell rang at Rumsfeld's house. Chomps barked fiercely. The doorbell made him angry.

"Let's go see what it is, boy," Rumsfeld said as he set down the gun he was cleaning. When he opened the door, all he saw was a bottle of whiskey on his doorstep. Chomps barked at it.

"It's just whiskey," Rumsfeld said as he picked it up, "Whiskey never hurt anyone."

In the shadows, Condi watched and smiled. "Yes, drink the whiskey, you old fool," she whispered.

Rumsfeld opened the bottle and took a sip. "Tastes like it was laced with cyanide," he commented. He then drank the entire bottle. "Yep, definitely cyanide. Not as much as I usually like to spike my whiskey with, but it's the thought that counts." He then tossed out the bottle and reentered his house along with Chomps.

"Dammit!" Condi exclaimed, "Now I guess I'll have to learn that stupid 'diplomacy' crap!"