Part I

“Damn for’ners hiding in religious sites,” Buck the Marine grumbled. He then stuck his head up from his cover. “Have respect for your own religion!”
He ducked at the response.
“Permission to attack the mosque with extreme prejudice, sir” Buck said into his radio.
“Permission denied,” his commanding officer answered.
“How about moderate prejudice, sir?”
“No. I don’t want to get yelled at again. Hold position and try not to get shot.”
Suddenly a UFO flew overhead and destroyed the mosque with a laser. Reporter soon flocked around the area with cameras.
“Wasn’t me!” Buck called out, “Honest!”

“I will continue to destroy symbols of the American President’s religion in vengeance for his subterfuge against me,” Xanax announced angrily on T.V., “That is, until he meets with me personally to negotiate earth’s surrender. Muh ha ha ha!”
“So you told him you are Muslim?” Condi asked Bush.
“Yeah, aliens are stupid,” Bush said. He then picked up a copy of New York Times. “I can’t believe with an impending alien attack they’re still leading with Abu Grahib. At least we finally found some WMD’s in Iraq; maybe that will help me in the polls… if humanity isn’t destroyed, I mean. So, any new plans to attack the aliens?”
“Well, we were going to attack the mothership with nuclear missiles,” Condi answered, “but then we saw a big sign on the side that says, ‘Invulnerable to Nuclear Missiles’.”
“Dammit!” Bush yelled. “So, Rumsfeld, do you have any ideas.”
Rumsfeld snored.
“Dammit times two!” Bush exclaimed, “He’s taking his afternoon nap. You know how cranky he’ll be if we try and wake him.”
“We need more time to form a plan,” Condi said.
“Well, maybe we can fool Xanax again to stall him,” Bush mused, “but how…”
Chomps then walked up to Bush holding out a gun in his mouth and wagging his tail.
“Aww, isn’t that cute,” Bush said, “Chomps wants to play ‘Murder the Hippies’.” A thought then struck Bush like a baseball bat to a jack-o-lantern. He turned to Condi. “Do we have any three-piece suits… in rottweiler size?”

“So where are we?” Jacques Chirac asked his aide.
“We are in a place the stupid Americans call ‘Arizona’,” the aide answered.
“But we must get to New York to surrender humanity before those vile Americans have a chance to save it!” Chirac declared.
“But how will we get there in time?” the aide asked.
“To the surrender mobile!”

“Finally, I get to meet the earth’s angriest president face to face,” Xanax laughed, but then looked at the president more closely. “But why does this human walk on four legs unlike the others? And why is his entire face covered in dark follicles of hair unlike other humans? And he seems much angrier than other humans.” Xanax then stared at the president even more closely. “Very much angrier.”

“The president will pay for this!” Xanax swore as the cell door closed on Scott McClellan and Chomps.
Scott looked to Chomps. “I guess we’ll have to get out of this one together.”
Chomps turned to Scott and started growling.

“Help! Help!” came a scream over the radio in the war room.
“Who is this?” Bush demanded.
“It’s Scott!”
“You’re still around?” Bush chuckled, “I thought the aliens would have vaporized you by now.”
“I’m stuck in a cell with Chomps and he’s trying to kill me!” Scott yelled.
“Well, there’s nothing else in the room for him to kill,” Bush answered, “What do you expect?”
“Please help me!”
“Fine,” Bush grumbled and then hit a switch to talk to Chomps’s hidden communicator. “Calm down, doggie. Nice doggie.” Bush heard even more ferocious snarling in response. Bush switched back to Scott’s communicator. “Apparently hearing voices in his head makes Chomps even angrier.”
“You have to help me! I don’t know how much long…”
Bush turned off the communication system. “So what’s next, Condi?”
“I think Xanax is going to be really mad after how Chomps nearly tore him apart,” she said.
Bush thought for a moment. “Don’t worry. I have a new plan so great that there is no way it could fail– No way at all– Even though I thought of it.”

“What’s that I hear?” Zatoichi asked, “sounds like a tubby man hanging from a light fixture and squealing while a ferocious dog in a tuxedo tries to bite him.”
“Close, old chap,” Tony Blair answered, “The dog is actually in a three-piece suit.”
“Why are you guys here?” Scott asked as he took a momentary break from squealing.
“Well, your president had this plan,” Blair answered, “and, needless to say, it didn’t quite work – no reason to go into the details – so here we are, the Prime Minister of Britain and a blind samurai. Cheerio.”
“Can you help stop Chomps from trying to kill me?” Scott asked.
Blair looked at the snarling dog for a moment. “Afraid I’m going to have to say no to that one.”
“Ha ha! Dog so want to bite chubby man!” Ichi laughed.
“That is pretty funny,” Blair chuckled, “Anyway, we need to put our heads together to stop these aliens. I’m sure between my British wit, Ichi’s samurai skills, Chomps’s anger, and Scott’s… uh… tubbiness, we can find a way out of this cell and show these nasty invaders what for!” Blair checked his watch. He then walked to the little window to the cell’s door and called out, “I don’t know if you hideous alien guards are aware of the Geneva Convention, but it’s tea time.”

“Enough tricks!” Xanax shouted, once again having taken over the airwaves. “The American President will meet with me personally or, instead of enslaving you puny humans, I will destroy your pitiful planet! Muh ha ha ha!”
“I really am getting annoyed at this guy interrupting my favorite T.V. shows,” Bush declared, “It’s time for drastic action. But, do we having anything we can fight aliens with?”
“We might have something,” Condi answered.
“What?”
Condi leaned forward towards Bush, placing her palms on the war room table and staring Bush right in the eyes. “The Republican Attack Machine!”
TO BE CONCLUDED…