Ian WhiteA Dick Cheney Thanksgiving
November 26th 2009 11:04
Thanksgiving was in full swing in the underworld. Food was being served, family was getting together, and Sarah Palin would do flybys in her helicopter shooting potential dinner for interested parties, but really was just making a mess. Across the lake of fire, perched on Death’s peak was the revered Cheney Manor, where the family was sitting down for their Turkey day. (They don’t eat turkey) Despite the uproar over the imaginary recession and the fact that Thanksgiving is merely a pit stop in comparison to the real celebration of gluttony, the Cheney clan was mostly together for this most joyous occasion. Joining Dick and his wife Lynne was Mary and her “friend” Beth, Elizabeth, her husband Phillip, and their kids Kate, Grace, Elizabeth, Richard, and Phillip. The kids were situated in the living room while the grown ups gathered in the dining room. Ahmad, proudly wearing his Guantonimo Bay alumni t-shirt had just laid out dinner.
Dick smiled kindly at the young man. (1 Puppy dies)
“Thank you Ahmad. It looks wonderful. Before you go, my throne is feeling a little lopsided.” Cheney said, indicating is throne made of human skeleton.
Ahmad nodded and retrieved a large thigh bone from a massive trash bag in the kitchen. He inserted it into the throne, making it a few inches higher.
“Much better. That will be all Ahmad.” Dick said.
Ahmad nodded and made his way out of the room with the grace of a Ninja Assassin ($$$In Theaters now$$$). Dick began eying the feast. He turned to Mary.
“This arm will need some flavor. Could you pass the soul?” He asked.
Mary violently made out with Beth before passing the bowl of soul down to her father with a smug look on her face. “I hope you don’t mind my lesbo hands touching it.”
The republican lord of chaos just shrugged as he poured some soul over the massive fried arm on his plate. Suddenly a startling sound pierced the air:
“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!! !!!”
Lynne glanced over. “The Howard Dean is ringing. Ahmad could you get the door?”
Ahmad’s movement was art related hyperbole as he headed to the foyer and pulled open the door. George W. Bush stood on the other side beaming like a school girl. He even wore a white blouse with a tie.
“Hey Osama. I thought you were still at the palace?” He said happily, giving him a hearty pat on the back followed by a quick shoulder rub.
“No, sir. I am Ahmad. Master Cheney’s butler. Please come in.” Ahmad said, standing to the side.
“Why, thank you kindly.” Bush said, bowing slightly, apparently confusing Ahmad for an Asian gentleman.
The children and George greeted each other with glee, as he showed them the boat of Popsicle sticks he built in arts and crafts. Cheney groaned inwardly, while Lynne rolled her eyes. Mary and Beth glared daggers, Elizabeth forced a smile while her husband appeared excited enough to dry hump the table, or the former president, as he was a big fan of Bush. Phillip even had a poster in their shared room (Separate beds of course!!) that depicted Bush’s famous “Is our children learning?” address. Phillip often described hearing the former president speak as a duet featuring Unicorns and God.
After George finished his rounds with the kids, he happily greeted the adults with shoulder rubs for all. (The pleasure made Phillip temporarily lose consciousness) “How’s my favorite family team?!” He asked happily.
The king of aguish answered. “Just fine George. Where is your wife? And your daughters?”
Bush grinned sheepishly. “The wife is looking after the girls. They’re back from their study vacation in Europe. The jet lag was really hard on them. They both were throwing up and insist that they’re being followed by a Goblin in a tuxedo. Figure they just need to sleep it off. Not touching America for so long could also be part of it.”
The Cheney’s looked at each other, none having the heart to tell George the truth. This was quite literal in Cheney’s case, as his current heart belonged to a liberal. Instead he beckoned to the chair Ahmad had set up at the table so quickly it appeared to materialize from nothing.
“Have a seat George. We’re just about to make the Thanksgiving toast before digging in.” The King of Darkness said.
George happily sat down and accepted the My Pet Goat bib Ahmad poetically placed on him.
Dick Cheney rose from his throne of the damned to deliver his speech. (No teleprompter thank you very much Barack HUSSEIN Obama!)
“We are thankful to have been on the right side of shady business deals, financially beneficial policies, and my Haliburton stock so that we may properly celebrate this joyous American holiday of gluttony and football. This holiday to me is more American than even Independence day, as I have always felt that its history properly shows the America that I am proud of; surviving by any means necessary and the slaughtering of the innocent. So let us be thankful for our conservative ancestors who were able to teach the natives a valuable lesson: always crush the enemy…Praise Regan.”
“Praise Regan.” They all said with the exception of Mary who defiantly started kissing Beth’s neck.
Cheney sat back in his throne. “Dig in everybody.”
The family began feasting. George was thoroughly enjoying the massive slab of meat on his plate. “Boy, that’s a lot of meat. What is it?”
“Michael Moore. Freshly shot by Ahmad.” Lynne replied as she put some salad on her husband’s plate.
Phillip was staring at George W. clearly starstruck, as if a Star had punched him in the face. Not Russell Crow, but a real star. Not to imply Russell Crow is not an adequate star. We wish not to incur his wrath.
Phillip, now unable to contain his excitement chimed in:
“Personally I think you should have reigned permanently in the office. I also think we should have a monarchy...of the world. You’d be King. Or be like Hitler...for like the world! Any whosanator, what have you been up to now that you’re out of office Mr. President, hopefully Fuhrer?”
“Glad you ask- “ Just then Kanye West burst into the room.
“I know we were about to have a satirical monologue, and I’m gonna let you finish. But David Sedaris had the best Holiday Essay of all time…. All time…” He then quickly exited quietly singing ‘You Belong with me,’ his voice distorted by music software.
George Bush looked puzzled. “Isn’t that the guy that doesn’t like me?”
Mary nodded. “Yeah, he hates you…Like dad hates our love!” She said fiercely before licking the side of Beth’s face repeatedly.
Pain incarnated rolled his eyes.
George still looked puzzled. “Hey Dick, I didn’t know you even had black people around here.”
The Dark lord shook his head. “That’s not the case at all. In fact Al Sharpton lives right down the road. He’s next to T.D. Jakes.”
“Ohhh.” George said excitedly. “That’s amazing you live so close to those people. I just love their music. That salsa sure is catchy.”
Dick was about to correct him and reprimand his apparent support of Hispanics when he froze and fell sideways off his throne.
Lynne looked up from her plate. “Oh dear, Dick needs a new heart. And we’re out. Hey Ahmad!”
“Yes my queen?” He inquired, entering the room with the swiftness of a very swift Ghost.
“Could you go out and grab Dick a new heart?’
He nodded. “Of course. Democrat?”
Lynne shook her head. “No, they don’t last very long. Not strong enough. Head over to the border. Plenty of strong ones there.”
He bowed and acrobatically left the room, taking the sniper rifle from the hall closet as he left the house.
An awkward silence fell among the table. Bush broke it.
“You know I don’t hate black people. I mean, one just broke in here and I didn’t even call the cops. Beat that Pelosi!”
Hearty laughter filled the table, though Phillip laughed so hard he died.
Nobody noticed, except Beth who couldn’t’ talk because Mary wouldn’t stop making out with her.
The End
Dick smiled kindly at the young man. (1 Puppy dies)
“Thank you Ahmad. It looks wonderful. Before you go, my throne is feeling a little lopsided.” Cheney said, indicating is throne made of human skeleton.
Ahmad nodded and retrieved a large thigh bone from a massive trash bag in the kitchen. He inserted it into the throne, making it a few inches higher.
“Much better. That will be all Ahmad.” Dick said.
Ahmad nodded and made his way out of the room with the grace of a Ninja Assassin ($$$In Theaters now$$$). Dick began eying the feast. He turned to Mary.
“This arm will need some flavor. Could you pass the soul?” He asked.
Mary violently made out with Beth before passing the bowl of soul down to her father with a smug look on her face. “I hope you don’t mind my lesbo hands touching it.”
The republican lord of chaos just shrugged as he poured some soul over the massive fried arm on his plate. Suddenly a startling sound pierced the air:
“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!! !!!”
Lynne glanced over. “The Howard Dean is ringing. Ahmad could you get the door?”
Ahmad’s movement was art related hyperbole as he headed to the foyer and pulled open the door. George W. Bush stood on the other side beaming like a school girl. He even wore a white blouse with a tie.
“Hey Osama. I thought you were still at the palace?” He said happily, giving him a hearty pat on the back followed by a quick shoulder rub.
“No, sir. I am Ahmad. Master Cheney’s butler. Please come in.” Ahmad said, standing to the side.
“Why, thank you kindly.” Bush said, bowing slightly, apparently confusing Ahmad for an Asian gentleman.
The children and George greeted each other with glee, as he showed them the boat of Popsicle sticks he built in arts and crafts. Cheney groaned inwardly, while Lynne rolled her eyes. Mary and Beth glared daggers, Elizabeth forced a smile while her husband appeared excited enough to dry hump the table, or the former president, as he was a big fan of Bush. Phillip even had a poster in their shared room (Separate beds of course!!) that depicted Bush’s famous “Is our children learning?” address. Phillip often described hearing the former president speak as a duet featuring Unicorns and God.
After George finished his rounds with the kids, he happily greeted the adults with shoulder rubs for all. (The pleasure made Phillip temporarily lose consciousness) “How’s my favorite family team?!” He asked happily.
The king of aguish answered. “Just fine George. Where is your wife? And your daughters?”
Bush grinned sheepishly. “The wife is looking after the girls. They’re back from their study vacation in Europe. The jet lag was really hard on them. They both were throwing up and insist that they’re being followed by a Goblin in a tuxedo. Figure they just need to sleep it off. Not touching America for so long could also be part of it.”
The Cheney’s looked at each other, none having the heart to tell George the truth. This was quite literal in Cheney’s case, as his current heart belonged to a liberal. Instead he beckoned to the chair Ahmad had set up at the table so quickly it appeared to materialize from nothing.
“Have a seat George. We’re just about to make the Thanksgiving toast before digging in.” The King of Darkness said.
George happily sat down and accepted the My Pet Goat bib Ahmad poetically placed on him.
Dick Cheney rose from his throne of the damned to deliver his speech. (No teleprompter thank you very much Barack HUSSEIN Obama!)
“We are thankful to have been on the right side of shady business deals, financially beneficial policies, and my Haliburton stock so that we may properly celebrate this joyous American holiday of gluttony and football. This holiday to me is more American than even Independence day, as I have always felt that its history properly shows the America that I am proud of; surviving by any means necessary and the slaughtering of the innocent. So let us be thankful for our conservative ancestors who were able to teach the natives a valuable lesson: always crush the enemy…Praise Regan.”
“Praise Regan.” They all said with the exception of Mary who defiantly started kissing Beth’s neck.
Cheney sat back in his throne. “Dig in everybody.”
The family began feasting. George was thoroughly enjoying the massive slab of meat on his plate. “Boy, that’s a lot of meat. What is it?”
“Michael Moore. Freshly shot by Ahmad.” Lynne replied as she put some salad on her husband’s plate.
Phillip was staring at George W. clearly starstruck, as if a Star had punched him in the face. Not Russell Crow, but a real star. Not to imply Russell Crow is not an adequate star. We wish not to incur his wrath.
Phillip, now unable to contain his excitement chimed in:
“Personally I think you should have reigned permanently in the office. I also think we should have a monarchy...of the world. You’d be King. Or be like Hitler...for like the world! Any whosanator, what have you been up to now that you’re out of office Mr. President, hopefully Fuhrer?”
“Glad you ask- “ Just then Kanye West burst into the room.
“I know we were about to have a satirical monologue, and I’m gonna let you finish. But David Sedaris had the best Holiday Essay of all time…. All time…” He then quickly exited quietly singing ‘You Belong with me,’ his voice distorted by music software.
George Bush looked puzzled. “Isn’t that the guy that doesn’t like me?”
Mary nodded. “Yeah, he hates you…Like dad hates our love!” She said fiercely before licking the side of Beth’s face repeatedly.
Pain incarnated rolled his eyes.
George still looked puzzled. “Hey Dick, I didn’t know you even had black people around here.”
The Dark lord shook his head. “That’s not the case at all. In fact Al Sharpton lives right down the road. He’s next to T.D. Jakes.”
“Ohhh.” George said excitedly. “That’s amazing you live so close to those people. I just love their music. That salsa sure is catchy.”
Dick was about to correct him and reprimand his apparent support of Hispanics when he froze and fell sideways off his throne.
Lynne looked up from her plate. “Oh dear, Dick needs a new heart. And we’re out. Hey Ahmad!”
“Yes my queen?” He inquired, entering the room with the swiftness of a very swift Ghost.
“Could you go out and grab Dick a new heart?’
He nodded. “Of course. Democrat?”
Lynne shook her head. “No, they don’t last very long. Not strong enough. Head over to the border. Plenty of strong ones there.”
He bowed and acrobatically left the room, taking the sniper rifle from the hall closet as he left the house.
An awkward silence fell among the table. Bush broke it.
“You know I don’t hate black people. I mean, one just broke in here and I didn’t even call the cops. Beat that Pelosi!”
Hearty laughter filled the table, though Phillip laughed so hard he died.
Nobody noticed, except Beth who couldn’t’ talk because Mary wouldn’t stop making out with her.
The End
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