"The Trials of Dick Cheney' - excerpt from my novel (well, not really)

[moggie12]

Chapter 26


Dick Cheney burst through the door of the Oval Office, panting from running down the long hallway. He scanned the spacious office, seeing Dubya waving at him from behind the desk.

"Dickster!!" Dubya yelled, gesturing excitedly. "C'mon in here. Ya gotta see this."

Dick Cheney strode swiftly across the room, his feet padding across the Presidential seal woven into the rug.

"Check it out, Dickster," Dubya said, waving the sheaf of briefing papers in the air. "Them Italians figured out a legal way of fixin' the vote! It says so right here in these dang papers I'm supposed to study."

Dick Cheney put out his hand when he arrived at the desk, taking the stapled sheets. Glancing where Dubya pointed, he realized he was going to have to let him down gently. "George," he began tentatively, "it's not like the College of Cardinals is actually fixing the vote. They count the ballots before they burn them." He searched Dubya's face, seeking some sign of comprehension. It still radiated excitement. It was going to be another long session.

Dubya snatched the papers from Cheney's hand. "No, Dick, look," he said, "it says so right here -- if they don't get a 2/3 majority, they just burn all the ballots and do another vote. That's what we should do. We should burn all the ballots so them sneaky Democrats got nothin' to paw over later. We could just keep havin' votes 'til we got one we liked. Call Frist and Hastert and tell 'em I want a new voting law."

Dick Cheney bit on his lip. Clearly, a logical discussion of papal voting procedures wasn't going to be productive. Another approach was needed. "Well, George," he said, "if you think about it, since we've got those paperless voting machines, burning ballots would be unnecessary. And people might get suspicious if we proposed--"

"Oh shoot, Dick," Dubya snapped, "people ain't gonna get suspicious! There ain't nobody payin' attention these days! We can get pretty much whatever we want through Congress. Didn't you tell me we got that tort reform bill through? That wasn't hard, was it? And what about that bankruptcy bill them credit card guys wanted? That didn't cause too much of a fuss, did it?"

"That's true, George, but--"

"Don't 'but' me," Dubya pouted. "Just call those fellas and tell 'em that's what I want."

Dick Cheney's brain spun, trying to think of a way out. If he didn't nip this in the bud, Dubya could go off on his own and do something embarrassing. Had the Secret Service not raced across town to intercept the note he'd sent demanding Congress rename the Capitol Building the "Dale Earnheart, Jr. Memorial Plaza", all hell would've broken loose. For a split second, Dick Cheney felt sorry for himself. It was enough running the government singlehandedly. Keeping up with Dubya's brainstorms was exhausting.

He decided to take another tack. "Listen, George," he said, "I'm thinking the evangelicals won't like this at all. Remember, we just cozy up to the Catholics for political purposes. All that 13th Century mumbo-jumbo and incense and stuff gives everybody the heebie-jeebies. You don't actually want to propose copying some ancient Italian ritual here in the US, do you, George? Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell would have a stroke."

Dubya looked crestfallen. "Yep, you're right," he said dully. "I forgot about that."

Cheney felt bad for him. "It was a great idea otherwise," he said encouragingly, patting him on the shoulder.

"Dang," said Dubya, dejectedly tossing the briefing papers on the desk.

"Look," said Cheney, "after I get done running the National Security Council meeting, why don't you and I go down to the basement and bowl a few frames?"

Dubya brightened. "Yep, Dick," he said, "that sounds great."

Dick Cheney clapped Dubya on the shoulder and strode towards the door. His hand on the doorknob, he pulled the door open and turned to look back at Dubya. "You call me the second you have any more good ideas, okay, George?"

"Will do, Dickster," said Dubya, flashing a smile and a thumbs-up sign.

[Wickerman]

1. beautiful

simply beautiful.

That is really a transcript, isn't it?

:evilgrin:

[moggie12]

2. Yep, I got me a mole in the Oval Office n/t

[illflem]

3. A True Dick Story

Here's an excerpt


My introduction to the game occured upon arrival at Cheney's hunting lodge near Greybull, Wyoming, and it physically and psychologically devastated me. I was sufficiently traumatized for Cheney's programming as I stood naked in his hunting lodge office after being hunted down and caught. Cheney was talking as he paced around me: I could stuff you and mount you like a jackalope and call you a two-legged dear. Or I could stuff you with this (he unzipped his pants to reveal his oversized penis) right down to your throat and then mount you. Which do you prefer?

The blood reached my shoes and caught my attention. At last, when I could speak, I begged, "If you don't mind, can I please use your bathroom?"

Cheney's face turned red with rage. He was on me in an instant, slamming my back into the wall with one arm across my chest and his hand on my throat, choking me while applying pressure to the carotid artery in my neck with his thumb. His eyes bulged and he spit as he growled, "If you don't mind me, I will kill you. I could kill you - Kill you - with my bare hands. You're not the first and you won't be the last. I'll kill you any time I goddam well please." He flung me on the cot-type bed that was behind me. There he finished taking his rage out on me sexually.

http://www.davidicke.com/icke/articles2/cheneyvp.html

[moggie12]

5. Wow, that's quite a bit more vivid than mine n/t

[Old and In the Way]

4. Pretty good....maybe you should serialize it here!

A chapter a week up to and including the impeachment, trial, and sentencing...