Bush discovers irrefutable proof of Martian WMD.

Little George W nearly wet himself when he saw a "documentary" on the clear and present danger Mars poses to both human, and rabbitkind by Marvin the Martian and his space dog. He immediately telephoned his good buddy, the Colonel. He used his special phone, the one that looks like it's from Batman. George wishes he could be Batman too, but at the moment he's thinking of fried chicken. Didn't someone mention the Colonel?

Hello? Said Colin. (pronounced Co-lin, for those of you less well informed) 

What's the problem, Mr President?

Hello? Said George, he'd forgot what he was doing as he sometimes, well, often does.  Helloo?

Have you seen the pictures from Mars?

Colin, breaking the silence; You want to know the current status of the Martian rover?

George paused while he regained his train of thought. The dog isn't the one I'm worrying about, but there could be a problem with the little guy.

The little guy, sir? You've not got an intern, have you?

Would it help if I did?

A problem with the little guy wouldn't make things easy at the next election-the last president had problems getting re-elected because of his "little guy".

You've gotta help me Colin, a guy from Exxon promised to buy me a Hummer if I win the next election.

I'll see what I can do, sir.

and what can we do about Mars? Should we leave the search in I-rack and concentrate on Mars?

...Mars would be a good distraction, just what the American public need to help them forget about Iraq

So, do we send this "intern", or shall we just nuke it?

Send the Intern? You mean a manned mission? Why, that's a splendid idea! said Colin, more than slightly surprised.

...although we shouldn't send the intern. he clarified, just in case.

Who would we send? Asked Georgie. Surely there's gotta be someone, somewhere who everyone would love to see shot into space?

Did you ever think of joining NASA, sir?

Don't be silly Colinel, you know I'm no good at basketball....and besides...they don't sell fried chicken on Mars, do they?

Not yet, Mr President, not yet.

© Copyright 2004, Del on earth