Sacrificing lambs: Bush, with a "code red" on his hands. (Image from The Defeatists.)












































































































Bush Babes Beheaded

Why it could suck if you got kidnapped and your dad is a president who doesn’t negotiate with terrorists.

By Adrian Hein

Scene: The White House. The President and Mrs. Bush relax in their private quarters. He opens mail at his desk. She reads on a chaise.

"Dang it, First. Another letter from a mother who lost a daughter in Eye-rack. They all want to know why the twins don't enlist. Like I don't have enough problems. I still have acid reflux after that lunch with Pelosi.”

"Not now, Bushie. I'm reading ‘Crime and Punishment.’ Oh, how I wish I could share this classic with the many unfortunate war orphans of Eye-rack."

"If I've told those mothers once, I've told them a bazillion times: the twins are too busy volunteering in countries nowhere near Eye-rack to fight in Eye-rack. By the way, where are the girls this week?

"After Jenna’s UNICEF deal in Paraguay, they went to Argentina and Barb got her purse snatched. Can't keep those two out of trouble.”

[A grim Secret Service agent enters the room, and the First Lady excuses herself.] "Uh, sir? We have an urgent situation."

"Hey, boy, you look traumaticized. You been moonlighting as a page in Foley's office? Heh, heh, heh… Gimme that letter.”

“’Dear Devil-Man, We hate your infidel guts’…blah-blah-blah…Oh no, not the TWINS!! The girls were downing mojitos in a muy corriente bar in Bariloche. They thought the guys they hooked up with were Latinos but they were actually TERRORISTS from Eye-rack who now say they will BEHEAD THE TWINS if we don't pull out our troops! Jesus, don't those people have a shred of decency? The twins can't tell a Latino from a Muslim. That's not playing fair. I am still Commander in Chief and I will not withdraw the troops until we WIN out there, not even if Laura and Barney-dog are the only ones backing me."

"Sir, after this, they may be all you have left."

"Where's Dick?"

"Behind the curtain, sir. He's trying out a new light and sound system."

[Entering the luminous v.p. office suite, the president is almost knocked off his feet by a god-like voice.] "I AM THE GREAT AND POWERFUL DICK CHENEY!”

"Cool it, Big Time, it's only me. Listen up, terrorists posing as Latino playboys are threatening to behead Jenna and Barbara if we don't pull our troops out of Eye-rack, now."

"Hmgggrrrmmm. You know, W, my boy, it's on days like today that I am very grateful my daughter is an aging lesbian. You know our policy: We do not negotiate with terrorists."

"But Dick, the twins?!"

"You see the new commode I installed in here?"

"We only have two hours."

"Hmgggrrrmmm… Run it past Condi."

* * *

[On the phone in the Oval Office.] "Condi? It's me, don't hang up."

"Oh hello, George, I'd love to chat, but I'm at this amazing shoe store on Fifth Ave. The clerk tells me they may have a travel bag to match these fabulous Ferragamos."

"Jeepers, Guru, we have a Code Red. Or would this be a Pink?"

"Mr. President, please, this has been a very trying month and I'm on break. Do you think I look forward to working with Democrats on foreign policy? They make Kim Jong Il look easy. Yippee! They've got the matching bag! Try Rummy, it might cheer him up now that he’s unemployed." [Click.]

* * *

[Circling D.C., Bush and his motorcade locate the former Secretary of Defense.] "C'mon, Donald, get up away from that Washington Monument reflecting pool. If tourists see you staring at your own reflection too long, Cobra Lady Maureen Dowd will be all over it."

"I have benefited greatly from criticism…the devil I have. How could this happen to me, Dubya? A man of my age, with this head of hair?"

"Aw, buck up. You’ve done a heckuva job, Brownie, I mean Rummy. Between you and me, you will always be my secret Secretary of Defense, got that? Blood brothers for keeps. Now listen up, terrorists are holding the twins hostage and they aim to behead them."

"Whoa! And those unpatriotic liberals dared to question my policy on enemy combatants?! I never said torture. I said rough 'em up until they squeal like pigs. There's a difference."

"But, Rummy, we may have to talk to these godless evildoers. No, wait!" [Splash.] "I hate when he swims off like that… Fine, okay, be that way! I'll go to the biggest gun of all!"

* * *

[In the office of the man known as “his brain,” the president waits in line behind a lobbyist.] "Someday, and that day may never come, I'll call you to do a service for me. But until that day, which could very well come soon after January 4, 2007, accept this tax cut as a gift."

"Oh, bless you, thank you Consigliere Rove."

"There you are, Turd Blossom. I really need your help, Karl."

"I heard about the twins, Dubya. Tough break."

"How'd you find out?"

"I know everything, 43. Except that thing about losing the House and Senate. Didn't see that one coming. Can you keep a secret?"

"Not another Valerie Plame, I can't go there. Not now. Na, na, na, na, ana, ana."

"Take your hands off your ears, Dubya, this one's a doozy. I know this for a fact, first hand. Anne Coulter is a female impersonator. That's right, Coulter is a man."

"Whoop-de-doo. Everybody knows Anne isn't a real woman. Word on the street is it takes her six hours a day to begin to look remotely attractive. But my twins, oh what do we do?"

"I'll tell you what we don't do: Negotiate with terrorists."

"I do! I do! I negotiate with terrorists!"

[Slap.] "Stay on message, 43. Manly, like steel. You have to let the twins go."

"Let them go? I can't do that."

"They were never an asset. All the partying, carrying on. Without heads, they advance our platform more. We need something like this right about now."

"But, how do I tell Laura?"

"Yank fast, like a Band-Aid. Hurts like hell at first but the pain will pass. This isn't your first rodeo, cowboy."

“At the Copa, Copacabanaaa…”

"Oh, that's my ring-tone!! Hello? [Bush covers his cell, whispers.] "It's them, the terrorists. They're saying now or never. What do I do, Karl? Help me out here."

"Give me that phone. I’ve got a win-win solution… Now you listen to me you lowlife, sand-munching, cave-dwelling scum, we do not negotiate with terrorists... Uh-huh, that's right, you heard me. Yep, we're on the same page." [Click.] "It's done, no more twins."

"Jesus Christ, win-win? I don't see a win. Or a win."

"Laura can have more twins."

"She's 60-years-old!"

"Duh, George… Sarah begat Isaac when she was 90."

"Genesis 21: And the Lord did unto Sarah as He had spoken." [Kiss. Smack. Slurp.] "Oh, Boy Genius, you fix everything."

"And we rally the base for '08."


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Adrian Hein is a screenwriter and novelist who lives in California.

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