(This is the second installment of this satire. Part 1 can be found HERE!)
The beanstalk was growing before his eyes. Its trunk was so large he couldn't reach his arms around it. A grin etched his lips and he slapped his muddy thigh. " I just had a tiffany, by golly," he exclaimed as he ran for the house. It was the first and last epiphanous moment he would ever have, despite the fact he couldn't pronounce the word.
....He would have ran headlong through the sliding door entrance had it been in fact open! Someday, somewhere, someone would get the idea to act out the scene in a commercial for a window cleaning product. Nearby on telephone wire, a pair of ravens seemed to be laughing in hysteria.
....He shook off the stars circling his head and admired for a moment the curious silhouette of himself which had been painted in mud upon the glass from the force of his impact with the sliding door. He extended a finger and casually drew a smilie face on the silhouettes head.
His Terminator fanny pack secured around his waist, he began to climb the still growing beanstalk. Suddenly his ascent was halted. He scurried back down to the ground and hurried back to the house to put on some clothes! He realized that an emissary from Texas should be properly dressed when meeting whomever might be up there to greet him atop that beanstalk.
....He looked down at the bathroom floor at the muddied clothing and soiled towels he'd strewn all about. He shrugged his shoulders, "What the hell, momma's already pissed at me for trading the limousine for a bag of string beans ... might as well leave them there."
....Shortly he was once again climbing the beanstalk. It wasn't long before he began to tire. It seemed like he'd been climbing for an hour or more. He decided to look down to see how high he was above the earth. He was stunned! He was scarcely six feet above the ground! He noticed that his fanny pack had been entangled in some of the stalk's tendrils.
The earth below him had become a quilt-like patchwork of ochre and verdure. He could no longer see the base of the beanstalk. Above he could not see its top either as it disappeared into the cottony firmament. It wasn't long before he couldn't see a thing as his climb found him inside those very clouds.
At long last there was an opening in the layer of clouds and he could see a clear sky. To his amazement he could make out in the distance what appeared to be the towers and walls of a castle!
....He could climb no further, he had reached the highest vines and branches of the beanstalk. He extended his leg into the edge of the cloud. His foot sank only about an inch - there was actually firm footing there. He shrugged and stepped off the vine onto the cloud. If these clouds could support a castle, he thought, it stood to reason that it would hold him too.
He started off toward the looming castle. He froze as a voice called out to him.
...."I wouldn't go there if I was you,lad," echoed the voice.
...."Who's there?" the nervous Bush responded. There was no reply, but a gnome-like character appeared from behind a clump of cloud. His knees knocking, Dubya asked, "Who are you?"
...."I cannot give you my name. I thought everyone knew my schtick by now. You have to guess my name," said the grumpy figure. "Sorry, but it's in the Fairy Tale contract I signed last year."
...."How can I possibly know your name? I've never seen you before."
....The mysterious man eyed him curiously for a moment and then said, "Aha! You must be a Bush! Only a Bush could live a life of fantasy and not know any Fairy Tales."
....Dubya scratched his head as he was wont to do from time to time, being clueless and all. Then his eyes widened and he smiled. "I know you! I'm supposed to guess your name, aren't I?"
...."Whew! You Bush males catch on fast."
...."You are ... uh ... Rumpole of the Bailey?" Dubya said proudly.
....The man looked stunned but gathered himself, "You know the works of Sir John Mortimer? ... And yet you know nothing about Fairy Tales? Methinks you've been watching too much PBS on television."
...."I heard about Rumpole from some cousins of my father's friend," Dubya said. "It was one of Rumsfeld's kin."
...."That's it!" cried the man. Then he launched himself into a lousy Groucho impersonation, "You said the secret woid! You win $200!"
....Ever the slow one, Bush stared stupidly at the man, "Huh? What did I say?"
...."Rumsfeldskin! That's my name!" The man began to dance around. "Now I can help you on your quest!"
Suddenly there was a thunderous roar laying siege upon their ears. A dark shadow spread across the cloud and it was moving toward them.
...."Run! Run!" screeched Rumsfeldskin. "The giant is coming!"
...."G-giant? You mean all this time I've been in the land of the New York Giants?" Dubya queried nervously.
...."No, not New York!" answered the man over his shoulder. "We're out west remember? It's a San Francisco Giant!"
"FEE-FI-FO-FAN! I SMELL THE BLOOD OF A TEX-AN!"
(To be continued... HERE. )
This satire started out as a short piece. Then I realized that an EPIC tale such as this could not be contained in one post.
Next I realized that its scope was too much for two posts.
This post is wonderful and I don't care how many posts it will take to finish it! =)
Three posts (or more)!!!???
Please, I can't take anymore...
I don't care how many it takes, either. Just finish it! I love it.
This is a hilarious idea! Good job!
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