“According to this leaked memo,” the anchorwoman announced, “Rumsfeld is about to purchase a quart of milk, bananas, and a gallon of whiskey.”
“That’s my shopping list!” Rumsfeld screamed as he picked up the T.V. and smashed it on the ground. Chomps, the world’s angriest dog, then eagerly attacked the broken pieces. “Who is leaking my memos?”
Rumsfeld thought for a moment. “I have two options to end the leaks: find the leaker, or murder all reporters.”
“Grrrrah!” Chomps growled, snapping at the air angrily.
“No,” Rumsfeld answered, “Killing all reporters will take too long. We’ll need to find that leaker and kill anyone who stands in our way. To the Buick!”

Senator Daschle went flying out the front door of the Capitol building with Chomps running to fetch him. Rumsfeld then emerged holding up Senator Leahy by the neck.
“I don’t know anything! I swear!” Leahy cried, “I’m a member of Congress, for Christ’s sake; I couldn’t find my ass with two hands and a flashlight!”
“Who is the leaker?” Rumsfeld demanded.
“I don’t know! All I know is that I’m supposed to keep minorities from becoming judges! That’s it!”
Rumsfeld dropped Leahy to the ground. “If I ever find out any different, I’ll be back… and I’ll kill you and all your constituency!”
The press then swarmed around Rumsfeld. “According to a recent leaked memo,” said one reporter, “Are you now admitting the war on terror is a failure?”
“I will answer that by strangling you to death,” Rumsfeld responded, “Rarr!” He then grabbed the reporter by the neck. After a while, he dropped the reporter. “Any follow up questions?”
The reporter didn’t move.
Rumsfeld smiled smugly. “That’s what I thought.”
“Melinda Hawkish, Fox News,” Melinda announced herself, “People are now concerned that we won’t be waging the war on terror with the violence it deserves. Can you assuage their fears?”
Rumsfeld stared into the camera. “The terrorists will die! And who is leaking the memo will die! And whoever stands in my way will die! Murder, death, kill… remember those words!”
Rumsfeld then noticed a reporter holding a piece of paper and quickly snatched it. “That the short story I wrote about a girl coming of age,” he exclaimed, “That was personal!” He gave it to Chomps to smell. “Find and kill who’s touched it!”
Chomps immediately started savagely attacking the reporter. “I already know he handled it,” Rumsfeld said, rolling his eyes.

Bush watched as his office door was ripped off and then chewed to pieces.
“Hey!” Bush complained, “Your dog done ate my door!”
“We traced the leaks of my memos back to the Whitehouse,” Rumsfeld responded as Chomps finished consuming the door.
“Well I didn’t have anything to do with it,” Bush said, “I never even see your memos. I have some aides summarize all memos sent to me. Then I have another aide summarize all those summaries together. And then I don’t read that.”
“So where does my memos go?”
“Over there.” Bush pointed to a wastebasket. It was clearly labeled “Dispose of internal Rumsfeld memos here. DO NOT RAID”.
Rumsfeld checked inside to find it empty. “Looks like it’s been raided.”
“Maybe we need to make the sign bigger,” Bush suggested.
“Rarr!” Rumsfeld yelled as he kicked the wastebasket. Chomps then tore it apart.
“You need to learn to chill like me, Rummy,” Bush said.
A voice then came over his speakerphone. “We have a situation that could lead to nuclear war! Mr. President, you need to…”
“I’ll get to it later,” Bush answered, “I’m busy now.” He went back to playing his Gameboy.
“The leaker is near,” Rumsfeld told Chomps, his hands tensing in preparation for a strangling, “I can feel it.”
As they left the office, Chomps’s ears perked up. “You hear something, boy?” Rumsfeld followed Chomps until he could hear it too.
“Rumsfeld memos! Get your internal Rumsfeld memos!”
Rumsfeld and Chomps made their way outside until they spotted a booth labeled “Rumsfeld Memos” manned by Bush’s two daughters, Barbara and Jenna.
“I’ll take a memo,” said a reporter, walking up to the booth.
“It now comes with a free bullet,” Rumsfeld said, pulling out his luger and shooting the reporter.
“Uh-oh!” Barbara and Jenna exclaimed upon seeing Rumsfeld and his dog.
“You two have some ‘slpanin to do,” Rumsfeld said menacingly.
“Uh, we just felt like sitting down and thus sat at this booth,” Jenna stated innocently, “Why? What does it say?”
“It says, ‘Rumsfeld’s internal memos – five for a dollar’,” Rumsfeld answered, seething with anger.
“It was all Jenna’s idea!” Barbara exclaimed.
“Hey!”
Laura Bush then came walking by. “What’s happening here?”
“Your two villainous daughters are selling my memos to the press,” Rumsfeld told her, “and I’m going to strangle them.”
“We’re just trying to raise beer money… I mean money for school supplies,” Jenna said.
“Well you better give those memos back to Donald and apologize,” Laura declared sternly.
They handed the box of memos to Rumsfeld. “Sorry, Mr. Rumsfeld.”
Laura then led the two of them away. “Now you’re going to get such a talking to you’ll wish you were strangled, by golly!”
Rumsfeld stood there holding his memos as Chomps tore apart the booth. “Aw shucks; I wanted to murder someone. I know! Let’s go to a local university and strangle some liberation protestors!”
“Grrrawerg!” Chomps growled in approval and anger.

“The Rumsfeld strangler has struck college universities in the D.C. area,” the anchorman announced, “leaving numerous hippies dead. Police do not plan to investigate too much, because we all hate stupid, smelly hippies. Now keep tuned in to Fox News for more fair and balanced coverage.”