Dick Cheney's Secret Boot Camp, Volume 2


Having lost all track of time, John Edwards was sitting in his bunker, admiring his youthful hair and writing to his wife. Granted he had only been in Washington for one day, but he missed her so much he cried in the shower… all three minutes of it. Al Gore was right: conservation wasn’t all it’s cracked up to be! If people like Ann Heche wanted to take military showers and give up a second or third home to “do their part,” they can go right ahead, but that lifestyle was certainly not for statesmen, senators and young lawyers.

Edwards re-read his letter aloud like a speech:

“Dearest Elizabeth, I miss you so. Do you miss me? I am here, hoping to gain the necessary credentials to secure the presidency. It used to be that we had to win over Iowa or New Hampshire, but in this day and age, everyone just wants to know if you’ve graduated from Dick Cheney’s boot camp or not. Anyway, enough about me. Are you enjoying the pints of ice cream my new sponsors Ben and Jerry sent over? You’re not getting fat, are you? I mean, if you are, I’ll still love you and all. We just might need a fill-in for the public appearances. I am not perfect, Elizabeth, but I don’t have to be. The American people will accept me if I tell them the truth. They do, however, expect you to be perfect. As you know, Elizabeth Kucinich and Michelle Obama are smoking hot very attractive young women. I’m getting off topic here. Basically what I wanted to say to you, is that I love you and miss you and deeply care about the hardships you’re facing at home with those nasty prank phone calls from Ann Coulter…”

Suddenly Giuliani appeared in the doorway, sopping wet, covered in brown muck, his chest heaving and his eyes rolling around in his head. “You… have to… re… report… for… duty now,” he panted, hunched over.

“Oh drats! What time is it?” Edwards hopped up, dropped his paper and pen, his eyes frantically searching for his fatigues.

“You… always sit… around… in your… comic book… boxers…?” Rudy asked, still catching his breath, anxiously looking out the window to see if Cheney was heading his way. “What ARE those stupid things anyway?”

“Rudy, Thundercats are not stupid,” Edwards protested, hopping up and down to squeeze into his pants. “My kids happen to love that show. And the dangerous world created by Mumm-Ra and the mutants very much parallels the terrorist threats we face today. Of course you wouldn’t see that, since you’re essentially Bush on steroids, all part of the faulty view that’s hurting our country. The administration has never taken comic books seriously. Perhaps if they did, they’d learn to stop taking money from agents of evil…”

Another loud crack of thunder shook the room, as a quick flash of purple lightning streaked across the sky.


The two presidential candidates ran across the grounds to where Cheney was lecturing Clinton, Obama, Romney and McCain… holding a gun.

“Oh no!” Edwards sighed, catching sight of it.

“Scared?” Giuliani remarked. “You lousy Democrats want to take away all our gun rights.”

“WHO WILL VOLUNTEER FOR A DEMONSTRATION?” Cheney was shouting, totally disregarding the two new soldiers who joined the ranks -- huffing, puffing and sweating, half from nerves, half from actual exertion.

“I will! I will!” McCain cried cheerfully. “Pick me! Oh please, pick me!”

Cheney rolled his eyes. He reached into a duffle back and pulled out a heap of feathers. Time seemed to stretch on forever as he gathered bunches and bunches of white out of his bag.

“Dick, what’d you do… kill an entire flock?” laughed Obama.

“That wasn’t very funny, Osama Bin Laden… I mean, Barack Obama,” Mitt Romney frowned.

Cheney held the heap of feathers out to McCain. “Here, put this on.” McCain’s stomach dropped when he realized: it was a costume!

“There’s nowhere for your purple hearts there!” Giuliani jested.

“Put it on and run towards those trees.” Cheney instructed.

McCain reluctantly slipped into the bird suit and started running.

“Flap your wings a little, would ya!?” Giuliani chuckled.

“At least he wasn’t dressed as a woman,” Hillary reminded.

Cheney lifted his rifle, aimed and fired.

“Good God!” Edwards cried.

“Great Joe Smith Junior!” Romney shouted.

“What the hell, Dick?” Hillary yelled.


“He’s fine,” Cheney said, staring ahead. “This is all part of the lesson. As Vice President, you’ll need to know how to do damage control on situations like this. When you shoot one of your own comrades, instead of the ducks you were aiming for – it’s an honest mistake really – but in the event that you do, you will need to make this whole situation disappear. God forbid you should shoot the person in the face, but if you do… I recommend publicly apologizing on television… and paying off the family several million dollars to keep their yappers shut.”

“And how long do you propose we wait before doing so?” Obama asked, looking around with a smug grin. No one else smelled what he was cooking – but rather, stared ahead at where McCain lay in a feathery heap.

“Are you sure he’s alright?” Edwards asked. “I mean, you really got him!”

“If you can hear me and you’re alright, wave your arms above your head!” Cheney shouted, clutching onto his rifle.

“He can never do that…because of his injuries in Viet Nam,” reminded Obama.

“Oh. Right. JUST STAY THERE!” Cheney hollered. “Does anyone know first aid here?” All five candidates shook their heads. “Ok, if you don’t know first aid, the next best thing you can do is get in your limo and get the hell out of there! Sometimes if you’re hit in the head, you can’t really remember anything anyway.”

“Um, that’s if you get bludgeoned in the back of the head, Dick,” Obama corrected.

“Well we can’t just leave him there,” Hillary protested. “If we were on the Clinton Healthcare Plan, John would be 100% covered for this. We take very good care of our veterans.”

Cheney rolled his eyes. “This is going to be a LONG couple of months… I can see it now. All of you go back to your bunkers and prepare a speech to spin this story. Whoever has the worst speech has cleaning duty…”

It was going to take a surprise guest to break these people, Cheney thought, and he knew just the person.

TO BE CONTINUED…