From: pv@gagme.chi.il.us (Paul Vader)
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
Subject: A Conservative's Nightmare
Summary: Bwahahahahahaha!
Date: 5 Nov 92 01:58:32 GMT
Organization: Inline Software Creations
Originator: pv@gagme

READER WARNING: The following article contains smug, heavy handed, and
                overwritten satire. Deal with it; I have an NEA grant and
                know how to use it.

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[The scene: George Bush is sitting at his desk in the Oval Office. A bottle
of Halcyon has been dumped into a bowl which sits with a glass of water at
the President's elbow. The phone rings]

G: "Heh Hello, this is the president. [someone on the other end speaks
   briefly, and George sighs heavily] Got to let them in I suppose. They're
   the landlords now, ha ha." [hangs up]

[Loud noises are heard from outside the office. The door slams open. Two men
stroll in and look around]

D1: "Oh, look! [points to a small alcove in which hangs a portrait of Ronald
    Reagan] What a perfect place for a Bob Mapelthorpe."

D2: "Just none of that icky Lisa Lyon stuff, OK?" [both cringe at the mere
    thought. The Reagan portrait is tossed across the room and framed prints
    of leather goods and miscellaneous body parts are compared with two
    pairs of discerning eyes, and one pair of goggled ones].

G: "Need to get some advice from above. [pauses] Naah, Jim is probably busy.
   Maybe the God guy can help." [George gets up]

[Cut to the outer office.  A large woman in hiking boots and a plaid
workshirt is clearly hitting on the secretary. The secretary looks
pleadingly at the President as he runs through the door and down the hall,
but he doesn't notice].

[George pauses as he approaches the restrooms. A crash is heard as the
dividing wall between the rooms is cut down. The male and female silhouettes
on the doors have been removed. Dan Quayle, half paralyzed with the fear of
contracting girl cooties, stands nearby with his legs crossed].

Q: "Come on, even *I* didn't actually believe this would happen. What am I
   going to do now? And why is my name written on the wall of one of the
   stalls after John Suunnu, Jesse Helms, Tom Foley, and Ted Kennedy?"

G: "Got to get out of here. The big Cheese is waiting... Oh yeah, Jim is
   busy. Gotta go anyway!" [George knocks over Dan as he starts running
   again]

[Tracking shot of George in the hallway. As he approaches the chapel, voices
can be heard chanting].

G: "Ah, feel better already. Nothing like a calming church service [Opens
   the door. A coven of naked women in blue body paint are turning the cross
   over and preparing to sacrifice a goat on the altar]. Oh my, is there no
   escape? I'd better find a phone." [George turns back towards his office,
   running somewhat slower now]

[Clarence Thomas runs by the other way screaming, pursued by two large
African Americans in hair nets. Dan is still by the bathroom, arguing with a
hippy type]

Q: "What do you mean? You say you're the new drug czar and want to know
   where you can score the good er, stuff?" [George knocks Dan down again as
   he runs by]

[Cut back to the Oval Office. Bill Clinton and Al Gore are at the file
cabinets gleefully rubber stamping tax increases, import tariffs, and
environmental legislation that George thought was securely locked away.
Chelsea Clinton, wearing fishnet nylons, a mini skirt, a "Rock the Vote"
T-shirt, condom earrings, and way too much makeup, is rifling through his
desk. Ice-T's latest CD plays loudly from a huge boombox covering the desk
blotter. George enters]

G: "Young lady, what do you think you're doing? Hey! Give me that right now!

[Chelsea has found his "hunting" pistol in one of the drawers. She turns up
the boombox, briefly sights on the back of Al Gore's head, and shrugs].

C: "Take it, [hands him the pistol] it's the wrong half of the family
   anyway. Hector! Where are you?" [a man in khaki military fatigues and a
   full beard enters the room and puts his arm around Chelsea. Bill and Al
   are paying no attention to any of this. Tax tax spend spend]

G: "Who in H-E-Double hockey sticks are you?"

H: "Hey there, I'm the new War Operations Officer."

G: "The guy with the "football"? Bomb codes, communications frequencies, all
   that?"

H: "Oh, we sent the nasty thing by FedEx to Boris Yeltsin a few minutes ago.
   It makes all of us nervous having it around [George puts pistol to his
   head in despair]. I'm afraid I'll have to take that sir. You can have it
   back after a seven day mandatory waiting period [He wrestles George
   for the pistol. There is a loud bang].

[Cut to the President's suite. George sits up, waking in a cold sweat.
Barbara, on a trundle bed across the room, wakes up as well]

B: "George dear, what was that noise? Did you hear something?"

G: "Just a moment Bar, I think it came from outside".

[They both get up and go to the window. A rainbow painted VW microbus with
"transition team" painted on the side is pulled up on the grass].

THE END [and thank the Lord above and the people below, a new beginning]. PV

-- 
Paul Vader           Systems Analyst, TINC consultant, Rollerblader,
pv@gagme.chi.il.us   ex-Zen poet, FOAF, and bleeding-heart liberal
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre