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SCENE: The Oval Office. GW Bush hunched over the enormous desk,
glasses on, pen in hand, brow wrinkled in concentration; seemingly dealing with Affairs of State of huge importance.... ENTER CONDOLEEEZZA RICE, without knocking: :CRurgently: Meessa Presidonk! Meessa Presidonk Suh!! De Rushians! De.. INCONGRUOUSLY, Bush's face goes beet-red as he looks up, a furtive and anguished expression of panic fleets across his wily, rat-like eyes.. then (just as quickly) he seizes up a document for close inspection, thus covering his face.. GW(behind the paper): What is it Condi? Don't you knock? What is it? What? :CR: MEESSA PRESIDONK! MEESSA PRESIDONK!! GW: don't call me that :But SUH! MEESSSA PRESIDONK!! DE RUSH.. GW: don't call me that! :Yessuh sorree suh. Sorreeee.. A *THUD* IS HEARD, AND, FROM UNDER THE DESK, SOMEONE LOUDLY UTTERS THE EPITHET: "Damn!" :CR: "HAI! AI!! WHATTI!! WHATTI??" HUGELY COMPOSED, THE URBANE Richard Perle emerges from under the desk, brushing at his lapel. RP: I dropped my pen what of it? What of it, eh? Condi? :CR: No no no no i jiz sked! you sked me Massa Pell! I sked! De Presidonk.. GW(still behind the document): don't call me that. Bewildered, CR finds herself staring at the paper behind which the President is ensconced. She stares blankly at a procession of crudely drawn, clumsy stick-figures and rude, awkward letters denoting their identities. Suddenly she sees a roughly drawn oval with a circle as head and four sticks projecting underneath.. :CR: Spottie! Is Spottie Meesa Presidonk? Spottie! RP: Don't call him that. I say, Condi, did you know, when you raise your head like that, I can see your brain? GW giggles at the joke, squirming deliciously in the chair (that showed her!); then lowering the paper and turning it around... GW:excited: Yes, it's spotty and there's dada, an' mommeee, an' RP: Shut up George! GW: Right! (I knew that) :CR: BUT MEESSA PRESIDONK!! DE RUSHIA.. RP: SHUT UP CONDI!!! :CR: yessuh massah Pell suh. I sorree. I so sorreeeeee |
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