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Original stories by Shmolnick that humorously explore the dark side of humanity.

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Hail To The Chief

President George W. Bush was a simple man. He hardly understood the complexities of his job as leader of the free world, but that was alright because George had very little to do on the job; Vice-President Dick Cheney and Chief Advisor Karl Rove were really in charge.

George was the son of the former president, George Bush. "Poppy" Bush, as he was affectionately called, had had an uneventful single term as president. He "won" a small war in an oil-rich Arab country for his friends in the oil business but was voted out of office when the economy tanked. Poppy Bush was a much smarter man than George Junior and had years of experience in the shady international petrochemical business and the secretive world of the CIA. Junior had helped with the campaign (well, he helped lick stamps anyway), and the loss had made him angry.

When the Republican party had been looking for a suitable front man to put up for President after the hated Bill Clinton finished out his last term, Junior Bush had seemed the perfect patsy. They had rigged the results of a very close election in Florida and a compliant Supreme Court handed over the White House.

Now Junior was president, and he'd show them! He'd show all of those enemies who was in charge now!

This morning, the president was reading the sports pages of various national newspapers. He had the papers sprawled out on the big sofa in the oval office while he tugged at his uncomfortable tie. Vice-President Dick Cheney sat at the big desk, signing papers and conferring with the White House Chief Advisor Karl Rove.

The president was looking at the pictures of the baseball game and marvelling at the athleticism of the previous day's heroes. "Gee, I wish I were a major league baseball player," he thought, and tugged on the tie again.

"Hey Dick, why do I have to wear this stupid tie again?" he asked the Vice-President, tugging on the uncomfortable tie.

Dick Cheney peeked over his round glasses, the sunlight from the window behind shining off his bald head. "George, I'm busy. Go back to your sports page."

The president pouted. "Well, I'm the damned president, if I don't wanna wear a dumb tie, I shouldn't hafta wear a dumb tie," he muttered, and began to loosen his tie. He went back to the sports pages and began singing "Born in the USA" by Bruce Springsteen.

The Vice President glanced over at the president and frowned disapprovingly. He and the bespectacled Chief Advisor exchanged an exasperated look, then Karl walked across the large office to the sofa.

"Mr. President, why don't you go upstairs and practice your speech?" he suggested gently.

The president lifted his eyes from the paper and grinned broadly. "Hey Rover, my main man," he said. The president liked to give everyone nicknames.

"Mr. President, remember the important meeting we have this afternoon?" asked Rove gently, trying not to reveal his impatience.

"Oh yeah, that oil thingy. Izzat today?"

"Yes Mr. President, we're meeting with the Foreign Minister of Saudi Arabia and the representative of the Petroleum Institute at two o'clock."

"Shit, do I have to? Those oil guys are really boring."

The Vice-President raised his head from his pile of policy papers and frowned. "Now George, you know how important this meeting is, don't you?" he said.

George looked away from the old Bush family friend. "Yeah, I guess," he said softly.

"You don't sound so sure, George. Should I call Poppy, I'm sure he'd be happy to talk to you about it again." Cheney gave the president a withering look.

George folded the newspaper loudly. "No no, don't call Poppy. I'm goin'," he pouted.

"Good then it's all settled," said the Vice-President with finality. He returned his attention to the papers.

Karl Rove took the newspaper from the president's hand and started to lead him from the oval office. "I'll take care of these for you, Mr. President," he said smiling.

"Man, I'm the damn president and I gotta go practice some stupid speech for some stupid meetin' with some stupid ragheads," George complained.

"Why don't you get more comfortable and take off that tie, sir?" Rove whispered.

The president grinned and clapped his Chief Advisor on the back. "Hell yeah! Rover, you're alright," he said, and left the oval office. Karl Rove closed the door behind him and walked back to the big desk rolling his eyes.


2006 Michael S. Cohen

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The material in this section is intended for adults only, and even then, not for the faint-hearted. You can expect extreme weirdness, excessive sex, violence, and a host of horrors, albeit presented for humorous effect.

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