A Dubya July
The Long lost Sequel to
By David Atwell
It was the night before Christmas,
Until a thud did mar,
Clement Clarke Moore(ish)
The life of a pretzel is not an easy one. Nor is it predictable. Furthermore, the items which the pretzel is made from (water, salt, sugar, shortening, flour, yeast and eggs) are not overly exciting. Nonetheless, billions of pretzels are eaten by people all around the world. And none more so than in the United States of America.
Mostly pretzels are considered a snack one eats whilst enjoying a drink. For a few people, however, pretzels are a staple diet. Typical of the lifestyle of these people, watching a game of football on television is combined with consuming beer and pretzels. More often than not, after the game of football is well and truly over, the consumption of beer and pretzels usually continues for many more hours.
And so it usually was with Dubya. Having been found in the middle of a crop circle, he had been taken to hospital. From there he was put into the care of a clinic for the mentally ill. Surprisingly, he recovered well and was soon released. Whilst making his way back home to his apartment in Miami, Dubya bought another dog, this time called Mutt II.
A month later, there was a big game of football being broadcasted. Dubya thus got the beer and pretzels ready. Just as the game started, however, Dubya began to choke on a pretzel. Needless to say, he was not feeling too well and began to lose consciousness. Mutt II, a brown and white spaniel, looked on concerned as Dubya fainted. As he collapsed, he hit his head on the coffee table and then crashed like a sack of potatoes onto the floor. Mutt II was stunned for a minute and then wryly moved towards his fallen master. Regardless how much licking Mutt II henceforth conducted on Dubyaís face, Dubya was out cold and down for the count.
"Dubya! Dubya!" a ghostly Jeb said.
"You donít exist" replied Dubya.
"Oh, but I do bro" corrected Jeb.
"This canít be happening. It must be those drugs the doc gave me" Dubya said to himself. "I must concentrate. Jeb is dead. I live. There are no ghosts or little green aliens."
"Dubya, pay attention" Jeb said like a scalding mother.
Dubya, however, continued to ignore him: "You donít exist. Iíve had the best doctors say so."
"OK, if you want to play hard to get" upon which Jeb swung a guitar around, which he was carrying, and hit Dubya over the head with it.
"OUCH! You jerk. That hurt!" Dubya screamed.
"Now that Iíve got youíre attention bro, itís time to go visiting" Jeb announced. "And did youíre expert doctors say that imaginary ghosts couldnít hit your sorry excuse for a head?"
"Something like that" Dubya said as he rubbed the bruise on his head.
"By the way, hereís some advise, get youíre money back from those amateur quacks" Jeb suggested as they disappeared into a heavy thick mist. "And before I forget, Merry Christmas."
"Bah Humbug!" declared Dubya. "Itís July. Even I know Christmas is in December."
"Well today, for you, itís Christmas bro. Besides, why wait six months?" reasoned Jeb.
"Damn, something just bit me" an annoyed Dubya said hidden in the mist.
"Be glad it isnít an alligator bro" Jeb warned whilst being hidden by the mist.
"Yeah, one of those would take a chunk out of your ass" laughed Dubya, but then he got worried, so he had to ask "Do they have those here?"
"No. This way. Over here" said Jeb.
"Where? I canít see you" replied Dubya.
"Follow the direction my voice" advised Jeb
"Well say something" said Dubya
"Dubya is an idiot! Dubya is an idiot! Dubya is an idiot! Howís that? Good enough for you? Know where youíre going now moron?" Jeb asked
"Shut-up. Well, donít shut-up. Where are you now?"
"Same place as before" Jeb answered
"Oh, there you are. You know your hair looks funny" observed Dubya.
"I donít get to wash it any more thanks to you" said Jeb
"Well, where to now?" asked Dubya
"Take one more step this way and we are here" announced Jeb. And with that both Jeb and Dubya stepped out from the mist.
Jeb and Dubya had stepped into a white room. Although it had walls, you could not really make them out. Nor could you make out when the walls became the ceiling or the floor. A man dressed in combat gear stood in the middle of the room.
"Oli! Am I glad to see you dude" Dubya said upon seeing his old friend.
"Why did you bring him here?" Oliver North asked Jeb
"Because youíre first" Jeb replied
"I thought the past came first" pointed out Oli.
"Well heís already in the present so it seemed like the place to start. Besides, it saves time" argued Jeb.
"Well Iím not ready. Youíll have to bring him back later" requested Oli.
"Canít do Oli. Besides, he needs to be reminded where things are now. Then we can go to the past" explained Jeb.
"Sensible enough I guess. Did you get me what I asked for?"
"No not yet Oli. Besides they stoped making them a few years ago. Theyíre hard to find" answered Jeb.
"I am here you know" Dubya announced.
"Who cares" observed Oli.
"I thought this is my whatever it is?" asked Dubya.
"It all depends on what is is" said Oli.
"Eh?" a confused Dubya said.
"Never mind. I guess weíd better get on with it then." Oli snapped his fingers. In an instant, they were back at Dubyaís apartment.
Dubya saw himself laying unconscious on the ground. Above him, Mutt II was waging his tail whilst licking his face. "Now this is freaky" announced Dubya.
"Oh it gets better bro" said Jeb.
The three of them then started to fly to another location. This time they arrived at the White House. Flying through the building, they finally entered the Presidential bedroom where Bill and Hilary were arguing over some Monica woman.
"But honey, nothing happened. I never had any sexual relations with that woman. Honest" Bill Clinton was pleading.
"Nothing happened? Really! Then whatís that stain then eh?" Hilary screamed whilst holding a baseball bat.
"Well try to remember" Hilary said as she hit the President on the head with the bat.
"Damn! Ouch. Thatís gotta hurt. Go sis" Dubya added laughing.
"Yeah, you should know. Howís that head of yours bro?" Jeb replied.
"Come on, I want to get this over with" said Oli. They were off flying again back down south. After a few seconds they landed near Miami Beach.
"Oh look. Thereís Mutt the Terrier. And he has a girl. And a family. How cool" a happy Dubya pointed out.
Mutt the Terrier never saw the car which hit him. One second he was walking across the road with that dayís shopping, smiling all the while at Dixie and their pups, and the next he was gone save for a pile of food. All that Mutt could do was give a short yelp as the mean evil car dragged him down the street to oblivion.
"Holy Crap! What happened to Mutt?" Dubya asked in shock.
"He has left the living" Oli said.
"Well bring him back!" Dubya demanded
"We canít do that Dubya" said Jeb.
"But thatís not fair! Mutt had a loving family. Whoís going to look after them now"?
"No one. And itís all your doing Dubya" Oli said he faded away with Jeb. Dubya was left standing there alone whilst the mist crept in to eventually swallow him whole.
"Hey, where are you two going? Come back!" Dubyaís voice echoed out. There was no reply.
The next thing Dubya noticed was a pungent smell coming from somewhere within the mist. "If thatís an alligator Iíve got a real big mother of a gun here" a worried Dubya called out bluffing.
A few seconds later, the mist parted to reveal a playground. Dubya suddenly noticed that a man was standing next to him appearing rather unwell.
"You all right there old fellow?" Dubya asked.
"I am the Ghost of Christmas Past and Iím not that old" claimed the ghost.
"I would never have guessed" said Dubya. "Do I know you? You look kind of familiar."
"I was Donald Rumsfeld."
"You mean the Clown?"
"No, not Ronald McDonald, fool. Donald Rumsfeld! The only clown I can think of is you."
"Is that right?" challenged Dubya
"Yes it is" declared Rumsfeld.
"Well I know something you donít."
"That I find hard to believe. Is this about your sister?" asked Rumsfeld.
"Hilary? No. Itís about you."
"Well what is it? Or am I supposed to die whilst waiting for your revelation" an irritated Rumsfeld said.
"You need a bath. Talk about weapons of mass destruction! You stink a lot, dude" Dubya said whilst holding his nose.
"Is that so? Well Iím dead moron and guess who got me killed!" whereupon Rumsfeld threw a right hook at Dubyaís jaw, which hit real good, swinging Dubya around. "Welcome to your past boyo."
Dubya, now turned around, saw a few children playing in a sandpit. "Hey, thatís me! Thatís Jeb. Thereís the Governorís kid."
Whilst they watched on, the Governorís son threw some sand into the young Dubyaís face. "I remember that" said Dubya. "Then I say Ďdo it again Johnny and see what happensí. Then he did. Look!"
The young Dubya reacted immediately. Taking hold of a baseball bat, Dubya hit Johnny several times with it.
"I see using baseball bats to hit people runs in the family" observed Rumsfeld.
"Hey, I was only eight at the time. What else could have I used?" reasoned Dubya.
"How about your brain?" replied Rumsfeld.
"That wouldnít have hurt the little jerk. He started it anyway!" protested Duyba.
"But you put him in hospital for three weeks you idiot! Remember?" Rumsfeld reminded Dubya.
Dubya said nothing, but looked away ignoring the situation.
The location soon changed to the Bush household in Maine. Outside, a large angry crowd had gathered. A few were throwing stones at the windows of the house.
"They donít look very happy Poppa" a young Dubya observed.
"No thanks to you, you little crap" Poppa replied.
"Now Poppa, donít blame the boy. Heís only eight" Mom Bush said.
"Well the way heís going he ainít going to make nine" observed Poppa.
The conversation was interrupted by a window breaking. "Keep it up and Iíll hit all of your heads off" shouted a young Dubya.
The angry crowd only became more incensed. A few second later, a garbage can came crashing through another window. "Hey Poppa," called out a young Jeb, "thereís some dude whoís got a bazooka! Cool!"
"Weíve got to get out of here" declared Poppa. "Quick, get ready to run for the car" Poppa ordered as he headed for the kitchen. There he found the automatic water sprinkler system and turned it on. Within a second all the sprinklers around the house commenced spraying water onto the mod of people outside. Many ran away trying to avoid getting wet.
"To the car now!" Poppa shouted as the Bush family ran out the side door towards the car. The crowd did not see the fleeing Bush family until it was too late. Putting the peddle to the metal, the Bush family drove off at great speed into the distance heading for Texas. As the car did so, Dubya was surrounded in dust and disappeared from view.
As the dust began to settle, Dubya noticed that his location had once again changed. In fact it appeared that he was floating in space orbiting the Earth.
"Hello Dave" KH-21 and green aliens said.
"Holy Crap!" said a stunned Dubya. "Who the hell are you? You green ones I know from somewhere"
"Weíre the Ghost of Christmas Future, Dave" they replied.
"Iím not Dave, youíve got the wrong dude" claimed Dubya.
"Who are you then?"
"Iím Dubya. I have no idea who Dave is. Now clear off tinman and take your little green friends with you."
"Iím afraid I canít do that, Dave."
"Itís Dubya, not Dave!"
"Whatever. Dubya, Dave, you all look alike to us, so who cares?" protested KH-21 and the aliens.
"I do. And lots of other people" Dubya demanded.
"Lots of people? Name one?"
"Well, thereís um, and thereís thingy, and thereísÖ OUCH! Why did you kick me in the nuts for you little bastard?"
"To teach you a lesson, Dave" answered KH-21 and the aliens.
"Iíve already told you itís Dubya! And stop that one giving me the finger."
"Yes we heard your name. He says we are not here to listen to your crap. You are to come with us" ordered the Ghosts.
"Swell. Where to this time?" Dubya inquired.
They all floated away into some cloud which had suddenly appeared. This time it only took a few seconds before they remerged in a graveyard. A small group of people were just finishing a small quiet ceremony. Among them were Poppa and Mom Bush. Off to one side was standing Jeb. Dubya, KH-21 and the aliens walked over to Jeb.
"Now where are we?" asked Dubya.
"Weíre at your funeral" KH-21 and the aliens informed Dubya.
"Not many here" observed Dubya.
"Thatís what weíre trying to tell you bro" answered Jeb.
"Hey, thereís Ari Fleisher. Whatís he doing here?" demanded Dubya.
"He probably wants to make sure that youíre dead bro" answered Jeb
"Well he owes me money. All of his cheques have bounced lately, the little asshole" Dubya reported. "Hit him Jeb."
"Please" pleaded Dubya.
"Well give me the guitar and Iíll hit him then" said Dubya as he and Jeb began to wrestle with the guitar.
"Leave the guitar alone bro. Iíll hit you again with it in a second" warned Jeb.
"Great, youíll hit me with it but not Ari, the little vulture" claimed Dubya.
"Will you two settle down. Knock it off!" ordered KH-21 and the aliens.
Suddenly they were all transported in a beam of red light to Dubyaís wake. Again only a few people were there.
"He was such a good boy" Mom Bush said sadly.
"He was not Mother!" countered Poppa, "He was a down right little crap. Lost me my job he did. Letterman doesnít even crack jokes about me any more."
Mom Bush simply burst into tears. Fleischer moved away somewhat embarrassed by the scene. Sitting down at a piano he started to play something. Soon he began playing a Christmas Carol called ĎSilent Nightí.
"Heís a hundred times better at that piano than you ever were bro" Jeb pointed out.
"Is that right? Weíll soon see how good he really is" Dubya said whilst moving invisibly over to the piano. "Try playing your jingle with broken fingers Ari" whereupon Dubya slammed the cover of the piano down on Fleischerís fingers.
"What did you do that for idiot?" Jeb asked Dubya.
"Because you wouldnít hit him earlier."
KH-21had had enough. From the spy satellite an antenna motored out towards Dubya. It looked like a cattle prod.
"Hey, what are you doing with that thing?" asked a concerned Dubya.
KH-21 replied by zapping Dubya with a bolt of electricity.
The next thing he knew, Dubya was standing in a dark room being softly lit by a single light globe.
"I am Death" said the ghost in a low tone of voice whilst standing behind Dubya.
Dubya turned around to see a man dressed in a large black cloak holding an equally large reaper. "No youíre not. Youíre Dick Cheney."
"I was Dick Cheney, but now Iím Death" defended the ghost in a low tone of voice.
"Carp! You were Poppaís Secretary of Defence until you died" said Dubya.
"No thanks to you, you little asshole! I could have been Vice-President by now" complained Cheney.
"I knew who you were! You, Vice-President? Donít make me laugh. So why are you Death?" asked Dubya
"Well Iím dead arenít I, moron! Needless to say, Iíve got plenty of experience thanks to all the heart attacks Iíve had" explained Cheney
"Well none of thatís my fault" demanded Dubya.
"I canít believe I got this gig" Cheney mumbled
"Complain to the union up stairs then" as Dubya pointed upwards.
"Iím not up there: Iím down there. I donít have a choice in the matter. Do you really think Iíd end up in Heaven?" questioned Cheney.
"Well, come to think of it, probably not" was Dubyaís observation.
"Good. Now, listen up you little creep" Cheney said threateningly. "Weíre about to go through your lifeís door. You will return to your time and your life."
"Which door?" asked Dubya seeing two of them.
"The one on the left" Cheney pointed out. "But before we do, I must tell you that you may not like what you see. Remember what you have seen tonight. It might save you" Cheney said with a hollow laugh.
"Sounds about normal" Dubya replied stoically.
Death opened the door to the left. "Hey! Do you mind?" Oli called out whilst sitting on the toilet with his trousers around his ankles.
"Ops. Wrong door" said Cheney.
"Hi Oli. What are you doing here?" asked Dubya
"What do you think Einstein? Close the door!" shouted Oli.
Cheney closed the toilet door and opened the one next to it. "I must do something about the lights in here. Thatís the third time this week Iíve got the wrong one."
Dubya stood at the opened door. Cheney motioned for Dubya to go through it. "Nice to have met you Dick."
"Good bye Dubya" Cheney said as Dubya walked into the next room. But the next room was nothing more than a small cupboard and Dubya soon discovered that he could not move. He could not even turn around to try to get back out. Then Dubya could hear some music followed by what appeared to be weeping. Finally he heard someone unfamiliar say a few words proceeded by what appeared to be dirt hitting the box that he was in.
"Hey! Someone! Iím in here" Dubya called out a few times, but no one answered. Dubya then started to hit and kick the box, but again no one took any notice. Finally he began screaming at the top of his lungs trying to get someoneís attention. Then he realised that he had been buried alive. This made him scream even more.
Still screaming, Dubya finally woke up with a massive headache. Mutt II looked on not knowing what his master was doing. "Damn. That hurt." Looking over at Mutt II, Dubya asked "You OK there little fellow?" Mutt II answered by wagging his tail.
Before Dubya could pat Mutt II on the head, however, the phone rang. Getting up awkwardly, Dubya took a few seconds to get to the phone. "Yello"
"Took you long enough George" a voice said.
"Yeah, I was on the floor" a groggy Dubya answered.
"Was the party that big?" laughed a familiar voice.
"Who is this?" asked Dubya
"Itís your father. Youíve had a big night havenít you?" Poppa asked.
"Poppa? What?" a confused and concerned Dubya inquired.
"Yes, me. And the party. I guess youíre celebrating the big victory" said Poppa.
"Victory?" a still confused Dubya asked.
"Yeah, the election win. My, you have been partying "laughed Poppa. "Thatís why I phoned. Congratulations on becoming the Governor of Texas. Hereís your mother."
It was far too much for Dubyaís brain. He thus fainted accordingly.