Wednesday, September 29, 2004


In the White House War Room

It's coming in sort of garbled, Rumsfeld says. Sort of staticky.

What're they saying? Cheney says.

Sounds like--uh, Rove's in Bilbao? Rumsfeld says.

Yeah? Cheney says. That boy gets around, doesn't he. Where, uh--where exactly is Bilbao, anyway?

Basque Country, Condoleezza Rice says. Northwestern Spain.

Huh, Cheney says. What, is he on the trail of an ETA cell?

Or else he's in an ETA cell, Rumsfeld says.

Things could get a little hairy, Rice says. Might require some wet work.

Well, Cheney says, Karl's good at getting himself out of a tight spot.

He'll use his head, Rumsfeld agrees. That big bulbous pink head.

There's a knock on the door. Evelyn sticks her head in.

There's a couple of Marines out here, wanting to report.

Send them in, Cheney says.

The Marines come in, trembling and holding onto their belts for dear life.

Yes? Cheney says. What is it?

Sorry to interrupt, one says, but there's some kind of hairy goat-man loose in the White House, having sex with the tourists.

So subdue him, Rumsfeld snaps. That's what you Marines are here for.

Well, the other Marine says, that's the thing. He's having sex with the Marines too.

Ooh, Rice says, her face heating up.

Well send the Secret Service in, Rumsfeld says.

They're all dead, the Marine says. With their pants around their ankles and their arms torn off at the shoulder.

Lock the door, Cheney says.

Too late! From the outer office they hear the sounds of wild animal sex and the fizzle and pop of a primitive meaty machine shorting out.

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