As the Patriot Acts: Episode 2

(So read Episode 1 before you read this one. Duh! Do I have to tell you everything?!?)

(Mid-afternoon under a gloomy DC sky. Dick Cheney sits on a swing on the grounds of Number One Observatory, sipping a can of Diet Sprite. )
Dick (sings): "You say you found a piece of land/ Gonna change from city boy to country man/Try to build your life with your hands/You got to keep on smilin’, keep on smilin’/Keep on smilin’ through the rain, laughin’ at the pain/Rollin with the changes/ til the sun comes out again… (Dick sips soda) I like Wet Willie. (sips) What do you have, Stan?

Stan: Sir, Rice a Roni is no San Francisco treat. She rejected the advances of the First Lady, whom--- may I add--- is a slut with bad taste in lingerie.

(Dick reaches down and pulls a globe shaped pillow from underneath his butt.) Wouldn't think so, but sitting on top of the world irritates my hemorrhoids. (He spins the globe on his right index finger while continuing to sip his Diet Sprite. Yes, I know it's a fucking pillow, but it is round. Play along.)

Stan: Sir, you have quite some talent there.

Dick: What? Oh, yes. After I flunked out of Yale, I took up basketball to kill the time. I considered trying out for the Harlem Globetrotters at one point, before I landed my internship.

Stan: Really? What Happened?

Dick: I wasn't tall enough. (finally looks at the agent) Stan, was Condi tempted?

Stan: Well, if I had one, I could have cut the sexual tension with a WMD. She wants to trap the First Beaver but is scared of being snared herself. She knows you're watching her somehow, but she doesn't know it's through me. And she fears Reno, especially her feet. She thinks if she handles the Iran situation favorably, you and Reno will back off.

Dick: Well. I am glad you didn't blow your cover. Did you laugh when Laura pulled out the feathers?

Stan: How do you know about the feathers?

Dick: (sips) Stan, let's just say the First Lady appreciates dick, too.

Stan: Yes, Sir.

Dick: So. Condi thinks she can outmaneuver me. Well, she has another thing coming. I have secured Ted for Operation Wal-Mart War General. His eventual appointment as Secretary of Defense for the next President---

Stan: Who will that be, Sir?

Dick: That's not important, Stan. By the way, did you get the serum?

Stan: Oh, yes, I almost forgot, Sir. (Reaches into pocket and pulls out a cough syrup bottle) Be careful with the dosage. Too much will make him comatose. Not just like he appears, but actually comatose.

Dick: Yes, Stan, I know. I used this on Ford, too. (Places globe pillow back under butt. Pause.) Stan, you have to go now. One of my hemorrhoids just popped. (Pulls pillow out; it is covered in blood. Oh, the imagery!)

Stan: Uh...yes, Sir. (exits)

Dick: (sips) God, sitting on top of the world ain't all it's cracked up to be. (He holds the globe in front of his face and curls his lip in disgust, then wipes the blood off on his pants. Suddenly, swirls of smoke surround him, thinning out to reveal a pair of buckled shoes, stockings, knickers, and a debonair coat with velvet trim on the collar and sleeves.)

Dick: (to himself): God, I told Lynne not to let anymore of Mary's friend's in here…

Stranger: You fool! I am the ghost of Aaron Burr!

(Dick drops his Diet Sprite and grabs his heart, crumpling. The globe rolls into the grass. Aaron Burr waves his hand and Dick immediately straightens up).

GAB: Ridiculous flunky! We have not the time for another palpitation of your cruel, cold heart. Oh, no! For I, Aaron Burr, have returned to help you maintain your hold on the world. And we must hurry!

Dick: (mumbling): But why...what...

GAB: You must make George drink that whole bottle of serum quickly, man, quickly! Because according to the Political Prophecies of John Edwards---not to mention an unfathomable mixed-up message that Jesus sent to the Pet Psychic and not Sylvia Browne---he is going to be shocked by a bolt of lightning when he steps in a puddle. And that bolt of lightning will make him a genius! You and your corporate cohorts will no longer control him or the world! The Stupid Serum is the only chance you have to pre-counteract the effects of the electricity. He doesn't have enough of the serum left in his system, and without it he returns to his normal chimp IQ. An electric jolt to a chimp makes the creature a virtual Einstein! And if you combine that kind of intelligence with Bush's personality, you will have nothing but your past glorious corporate scandals to console you. If he is struck without drinking the serum, all is lost. It will take years of adding secret additions of it to his drink to make him normal again. Alas, you already know the time that is required to cultivate such stupidity. Therefore, you must render him to his usual brain dead state now and you will have a chance to keep everything under corporate control.

Dick: (stands) When, Aaron?

GAB: We are not sure of the time in which this will occur. That is why he should drink the serum. You can't be with him every moment. Jesus warned us of this damnable event because He got drunk while turning water into wine and nodded off to slumber in a plate of hummus. When He sobered up, He would not reveal anything else. He is not registered with any party, you understand, though He shows extreme favoritism toward liberal causes that do not promote wealth. Quite frustrating! And the smell of patchouli wafting from Him is overwhelming. At times, I cannot stomach His presence

Dick: I can't believe it.

GAB: What...that Jesus imbibes?

Dick: No, that He eats hummus. That stuff gives me gas!

GAB: Did you partake of any today?

Dick: No.

GAB: (extending palm face up) Then place your hand with faith in mine and we shall spirit away to the Oval Office. There are forces in the afterlife that would love to see the wealthy win, forces such as myself, Nelson Rockefeller, and John Wayne. Men of the almighty dollar that made this country the giant conglomerate it is and offer you the help you need! (Dick gives GAB his hand and they disappear into thin air. Somewhere in Heaven, Jesus cries, but because of budget constraints, we aren't going to describe that.)

***

(A log cabin at night. Ted Nugent sits in a hot tub, eating a leg of bison and wearing a Native American headdress. Animal heads adorn the walls. He smiles, revealing a piece of meat stuck between his teeth. The First Daughters---or whatever you call those two---
huddle together on the opposite side of the tub.)

The Nuge: Girls...I am a man of simple needs. (burps) I rise and set with the sun that God provided to light my way. FUCK YEAH!!! (The girls shriek as water splashes them.) Oh, FUCK YEAH, get them titties WET! He (points up) is showing me the way to you. (He starts scooting his butt around the tub toward them. The girls move away from him. The girls cling tightly to each other and The Nuge sings as they all scoot a complete circle around the tub)You know I am the hunter/The giver of your needs/And you better let me fire my gun/Cause I aim to please...(He dives at but misses the girls. He shoots up out of the water in frustration. He is naked except for the headdress and his spear is ready to fly. The twins scream and duck under the water.)

The Nuge: Quit cock blocking me! I am the CHIEF! And if you wanna keep makin’ Halliburton money after your Daddy's term ends, you will play hide the possum with me or Dick won't give you any more! FUUUCCCKKK! I'm gonna be the MOTHERFUCKIN" SECRETARY OF DEFENSE---everyone's gonna hunt wild buffalo, man! FUCK!

(They come up out of the water, gasping for air. Barbara is taking off her bikini top)

Jenna (aside): What are you doing?!?

Barbara: Whatever it takes to keep our share of Halliburton. That money alone maintains our highlights, skin buffs, and birth control supply. We can't ask Dad for that stuff----he doesn't even support birth control because he thinks it makes you high!

Jenna: It doesn't?

Barbara: Only if you snort them! Come on, Jenna...we go through a lot of birth control. And Dick will discard us like defunct pacemakers if we don't do what he says. You can kiss all that birth control goodbye.

Jenna: And highlights and skin buffs, too. That Halliburton money is like our allowance for fun stuff.

(The Nuge is running his hands up and down his man-of-the-woods-cave-dwelling-defined muscled-like-a-farm-boy-body. Yuck.)

Barbara: Exactly! So...I'll go first and you just watch and moan. Then you'll do your thing and I'll moan. Then we'll bum a ride to Austin with Dad on Air Force One. He has to go today and we'll just get smashed at Chuy's and forget this whole thing. Listen, stop crying...it won't be as bad as that time we had to sleep with Putin.

(Barbara taps Jenna's cheek. She rises up to meet The Nuge)

The Nuge (singing): Little squaw/ drop to your knees/because I am the man/from which no woman flees. (He does a little air guitar with his dick and the twins scream.) FUCK YEAH!

***

(Papa Bush and Bill Clinton are at a cigar shop in Georgetown, smelling expensive cigars)

Papa Bush: I sure am glad you explained to me what all that cigar talk was about. Hee hee. Imagine me, doing that to Bar! Anyway, I 'm going to buy you one for all your advice. (Bill starts to speak, but Papa Bush holds up his hands) Nope, nope...there's no reason to explain. You do what you want with it.

(Bill smiles, looking out the window. The Not So- Mysterious-Blond-Woman is across the street, leaning against a black town car. She wears a T- shirt tied at the waist that says (HINT) "WOMEN SHOULDN'T VOTE; JUST HUNT", sun glasses, and a pair of tight leather pants. As Bill walks toward the window to get a better look, she smiles and "shoots him" with her finger, blowing on it like a ...dick in the Oval Office? No, Tara, no...a gun. Yeah , yeah.. a gun. She gets into the car and drives off. He stands in amazement for a moment and then suddenly shakes his head.)

Bill: (to himself) It can't be...but I thought I saw her at the golf clubhouse, too.

(He turns back to Papa Bush, who is motioning for them to leave. As they exit onto the sidewalk, they bump into a cameo of Wilfred Brimley)

Wilfred Brimley:(testing his blood sugar; flips them off.) Fucking pigs!

***

Condoleezza (looking tired) So what do you say as a greeting?

George (doodling: Osmabinladen, my brother!

Condoleeazza (grabbing the pen from his hand): For the last time---it is "As sala'amu alaikum"! (She throws the pen across the room and it bounces off of George's Jack-in-the-Box. "Jesus Loves Me" begins playing.)

George: That is one pretty song. The twins got me that. Hey, are they here?

Condoleezza: They are waiting on Air Force One. I must warn you not to be shocked by them, Sir. They smell like wild animals and seem a bit upset.

George: Well, hee hee. I was young myself once, too. As long as no kind of illegal congugingiality was done that could hurt my job, it's ok. Just get some air freshener for the ride.

Condoleezza: I think I know what you were trying to say. (pause) That scares me.

George: And Laura? Where's she?

Condoleezza. (shutting Jack -in the-Box) She is staying behind, Sir. She has some personal woman business to attend to. (Cuts eyes)

George: Yuckity fart balls! You know I don't like hearing about women stuff. Bad enough I know they get that bleeding thingy every once a month.

(Condoleezza does a double take and makes a note to herself to get some Stupid Serum because Bush usually insists that women of all ages menstruate four times a year, with the change of the seasons. She checks her watch and picks up her bag, the model of her beloved oil tanker peeps out) We leave in seven minutes. (They exit outside through French doors and into the rain, making their way to Air Force One. Secret Service Agents holding umbrellas surround them. Condoleezza looks up and catches a glimpse of Laura peeking out at them from behind a curtain. Laura sticks a hand down the front of her pants and then shoves it in to her mouth, throwing her body against the window. Condoleezza looks away, nervously. Secret Service Agent Stan walks up behind the First Lady. Condoleezza doesn't see him unzip his pants. George is goofing off and tries to give one of the agents a wedgie but he loses his balance and his foot lands in a deep puddle. He starts laughing but stops mid-sentence as his whole body convulses with electricity. He falls. Condoleezza screams. The agents surround him. The First Lady notices nothing through the window because she is too busy giving a blowjob.)

Twins: (running off Air Force One) Daddy!

(An agent grabs George with those special Secret Service Agent gloves that prevent electricity from transmitting between bodies---come on, play along!---and drags his foot out of the puddle. George opens his eyes and blinks a few times. The twins hover over him, shrieking and stinky.)

George: I smell wild animals...(He rolls over, rubbing his head; pushes agent away.) I'm ok; I' m ok.

(Dick and GAB appear suddenly off to the side)

GAB: It appears we are too late. The serum cannot do battle with a mind such as that. (Dick begins to weep and drops his bloody globe pillow onto the muddy ground. Oh, the imagery!)

(George stands, brushing off his suit and adjusting his tie)

Condoleezza: Sir, Sir! Do you know where you are? Do you know who you are?

George: (He laughs, running his hand through his hair. His whole demeanor has changed, as evident by the fact that he could now define the word "demeanor".)Oh, Condi, you do make me laugh! Just a little shock, that's all. Let's proceed. (He indicates for her to pass. The twins stand to the side, discussing which tequila they will order at Chuy's.)

Condoleezza: But sir, just tell me your name. I will feel better...Oh, God!

George: (smiling as he bows) Shhh... Condi, shh. I am George Bush. As sala'amu alaikum.

(Clash of thunder; Night on Bald Mountain plays. You’ll have to download that yourself. Like I said, my budget is limited.)

THE END
Notes:
*Hope no one sues me...again!
*Tune in for Episode 3 next Monday!

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