by Richard Meese

Created on: July 13, 2008

President Schmook looked down at the dozens of photos littering his desk and rubbed the back of his neck. Secretary of Defense Bluevane had warned him they would be bad, but these were far worse than he ever imagined.
Silence heightened the tension in the Oval office for the gathering of Cabinet members and the four star general that stood silently at attention. Finally, the President's abnormally long and crooked index finger indicated an 8 x 10 glossy tantalizingly close to the Presidential seal on his Ipod. "This guy looks familiar."

"William Kristol," hastily supplied Secretary of State Hiney, daring to breathe again, her ample bosom straining the limits of a navy blue blazer. "Registered neocon. Indicted for crimes against the state, inciting violence, espionage..."
The Presidential waved her off before she could continue, "I'm aware of his record."
Cowed by his curt tone, she lowered her head and stared for the hundredth time at the compromising images of neocon detainees Kristol, David Horowitz, Charles Krauthammer and Paul Wolfowitz, stripped naked except for their yarmulkes, lying atop one another in a naked dog pile, surrounding by smiling Special Forces troops.
The President looked heavenwards in askance at the cartoon image of a bald Eagle with arrows in his claws glaring back at him. "Why leave the yarmulkes on?"
On cue, General Schfantz smartly stepped forward, bald head and polished stars gleaming under the reflected light of the overhead dome. "That was my decision, Mr. President. Neocons have a remarkable capacity to blend in with the general population when it suits their purpose. We wanted to be absolutely certain we could identify them at all times."
"You mean the sickly white skin and the small organs weren't enough of a giveaway?" snorted the President, sarcastically.
The guttural sound of the General clearing his bullfrog throat reverberated throughout the room. "As I stated earlier, sir, photography was not approved by the chain of command."
"Well, somebody approved it." The President's eyes darted around the Oval office, daring someone in his row of trusted advisors to step forward.
Defense Secretary Bluevane finally complied. "Chain of command breakdown," he offered in his confident baritone. Overzealous bastards in the CIA."
"CIA or CYA?"
Wounded, Bluevane blinked madly behind narrow spectacles while Secretary Hiney pursed her lips to smother the glee at seeing someone else feel the barb of the President's famous wit for a change.

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