NIGHT OF THE LIVING CHENEY!

"I'm the Vice President and you're not"
Mr. Cheneys voice rumbled ominously, echoing down the corridor as his
minions scurried to escape his wrath. He had been acting rather erratically in the last few weeks, drinking a bit more than normal, mocking the little weiner, George.
"Harumph, little sissy can't hold his liquor, HAH!" he poured himself another
shot of Chivas and gulped it down, shivered for a second as it burned a familiar passage into his gut. He suddenly felt flushed and cold at the same time and
a vague wave of damp discomfort hit him. He opened his desk drawer and
took out a plastic vial and popped a few capsules into his mouth. It was twice the
recommended dosage, but hell, he was Dick Cheney and he could take it!
He poured another shot and sat back in his plush heat massage recliner desk
chair and felt satisfied. His plans were going just as he dreamed they would.
Well, the original plan hadn't quite gone as smooth as it was supposed to. He was still trying to figure out how to get the Kurds out of the oil picture. Perhaps if he
could get the Turks to launch an attack. How to tailor the information so they would feel threatened enough to strike? Hmm, better put that one on the back burner for now. If he could get the Iranians to launch a first strike, hmm, kill two birds with
one ...uh, he started to laugh at the thought. "Yes, that's the ticket! The Iranians attack the Kurds, we say we are protecting the Kurds from Iran and launch the big one!
One, two, three! Oh Cheney, you are a genius!" He grinned like a well fed cat for a few moments, then grimaced as the clammy tightness started again. He took another
capsule and was going to take another and thought maybe he should cool it. He had another shot instead and started to go through the wiretapped conversations and intercepted emails that Gonzalez had dropped by earlier. "Nothing really prosecutable in here," Al had noted,"but some pretty racy stuff I thought you might get a kick out of! Some of this stuff is Hot!" He didn't elaborate and had to run. Something about
a new loophole in the Constitution he was trying to figure out how to exploit.
"The Constitution!" Thought Dick. "What the hell did they know back in 1776 when they were writing that piece of poetry? Sure all this Democracy stuff looked good on
paper, but what good was it when you were trying to take over a planet?"
"Now where was I?" he stared into space for a few moments, realizing he had lost his train of thought. "Sunnis? Shiites? Geezz...who the hell cares!"
The powerful drugs he had taken began to interact with the Chivas and soon Dick
was nodding off dreaming of his new Iraq with shiny new shopping malls and happy
refinery workers driving brand new 1967 Cadillacs and Lincoln Continentals.