(This the third and concluding installment of this satire which begins HERE. )
Dubya opened his eyes only to be nearly blinded by brilliant sunlight. Dazed he looked around at his strange surroundings. Nothing looked familiar, where was he? It must have been that green bean casserole he'd had for supper last night.
...."Damn! What a screwy dream!" He muttered as he sat up, still groggy. He'd woken up many times in the past not knowing where he was, and most of those times he found himself behind bars. Thankfully, there were no bars here, where ever here was.
He heard a curious sound emanating from somewhere nearby. It was a plucking sound, almost musical but slightly off key. He followed the sound to the far corner of what appeared to be a large cavernous chamber.
....He couldn't believe his eyes. It was a musical Golden Harpie ! Bathed in the sunlight, she stopped plucking at her garter belt as she heard the shuffling of approaching foot steps. "Who are you?" she asked of the man before her. "My name is Pickles."
....She was a picture of loveliness as he stared at her sitting at the foot of a giant chair. Giant chair? Only a giant could use a giant chair. That could only mean that he hadn't been dreaming after all. He walked over to the Harpie and unceremoniously pinched her on the butt.
...."Ouch!" she cried before hauling off and slapping him. "What the hell are you doing, you dumb shit!"
....Stuttering he replied, "I-I was always t-told that a p-pinch could tell if y-you are dreaming or n-not."
...."Moron! You're supposed to pinch yourself not somebody else!" she exclaimed. "Are you related to that Bush family?"
....He lowered his head and said, "Why is everyone always picking on me and calling me names?"
"If the shoe fits ... wear it!" The familiar voice came from up above somewhere.
...."Rumsfeldskin! Is that you? I thought the giant got you. I tried to save you ... But I can't remember what happened next. Then I woke up in here."
...."Ha! You tried to save me? You dumb shit, it was I who tried to save you! You fainted. He caught us with a butterfly net while I was dragging your sorry ass to safety! How do think I ended up in this stupid bird cage?"
...."Well, all that matters now is rescuing you and Pickles from this place and getting us back home."
....Rumsfeldskin shook his head, "How do you plan on doing that ... calling in FEMA?"
....Pickles giggled, "I know! You can pass a bill for the Homeland Security Act!"
...."No, I'll run for Pwesident like daddy did!"
...."That'll work," said Rumsfeldskin rolling his eyes.
Suddenly there a fluttering of feathered pinions and a chicken with a strange hairdo flew up to the suspended cage holding Rumsfeldskin. "For crying out loud," squawked the hen. "We'll never get out of here with your inane bantering, Bush. You'd better let me do the planning."
....The chicken pecked at the cage's latch until it sprung open. "Hop on my back, Rumsey. Funny, I've got this feeling I'm going to be carrying all of you on my back soon."
....After crashing against the wall with Rumsfeldskin on her back, she motioned for Dubya and Pickles to hop on also. "By the way my name is Condi the Fowl. Don't worry about him, I think he was knocked out when we hit the wall. Don't worry, he functions better unconscious anyway."
....Pickles began to pluck at her garter and within moments was playing "Dueling Banjos" as the hen began flapping her wings to gain lift.
....She took flight with her motley crew of passengers and flew off in the direction of the large door across the chamber. After smashing into the door twice, she managed to fly through the large keyhole. Shortly, barely able to fly any further, she deposited them at the edge of the clouds next to a branch of the beanstalk.
...."I can't fly anymore. My wings are too weak from carring all of you," she said as lay down in exhaustion.
....There was a rumbling coming from the direction of the castle. "It's the giant!" shouted Dubya. He scooped up the chicken, Rumsfeldskin and Pickles and started to scurry down the beanstalk. "I guess it's my turn to carry youse all." Not so inexplicably he dropped the three of them.
....The trio managed to catch hold of some of the branches and tendrils about ten feet below him. "We're okay," yelled Pickles up at him. "Save yourself. It looks like you are very good at it. We'll manage somehow."
....So fast was his descent that he soon passed them. "What if the giant tries to follow us?" Dubya asked the hen.
...."When you reach the ground, Bush, go find that Dick Cheney fellow," said the hen. "Tell him that we are being chased by a giant pheasant!"
....Dubya gave her a thumbs up sign and soon disappeared from their sight. They continued to climb down the stalk slowly and cautiously.
Finally after what seemed an eternity they were all safe and sound back on terra firma. They ran as far from the beanstalk as possible. From behind the Bush family's pig shed they watched in terror as the giant landed with a terrible ground shaking thud. They tried not to laugh out loud - the giant had landed flat on his ass!
....Suddenly the air was broken by the twin blasts of a double-barreled shotgun. The giant grabbed his chest and keeled over and moved no more. From behind a stand of trees strode Cheney blowing away the smoke from the barrels of his gun.
....Pickles looked puzzled and asked, "How come you instructed Dubya to tell Cheney there was a giant pheasant after us?"
....The hen grinned and ran her feathers through her stiff hair, "Easy. You see the word pheasant is a code that Cheney uses for a lawyer, and he considers them game."
...."Say..." said Pickles looking around, "Where is Dubya anyway?"
...."The Bush lad?" queried Cheney. "He went that-a-way. He yelled 'pheasant' to me and kept on a-running. I reckon that wasn't yellow paint on his back, was it?"
As the sun set on the Texas landscape, they were left wondering if it would ever come back to haunt them that even Dubya had been saved that day! (Little did they know that they would be still be wondering the same thoughts to this very day.)