Dubya Dubya Dubya Dot Com

Updated Sunday 15 May, 2011 12:18 PM

Dubya Dubya Dubya Dot Com

Return of the Brothers

By David Atwell

Prologue

Your thoughts betray you, Father.

I feel the good in you… the conflict.

You could not bring yourself to kill me before -

and you won’t destroy me now.

Luke Skywalker

We Have Lift Off

From the Kennedy Space Centre the Delta IV rocket was about to launch. On top of the rocket, the payload sat waiting to be sent into orbit. Although it was not operational yet, KH-21 would shortly become the most advanced spy satellite ever to look down upon the Earth. It had everything imaginable aboard in the way of spy equipment. Even its computer was the most advanced ever to be put in space. It was also worth billions of dollars. Thus the NSA had a lot riding on a successful launch.

The NSA was not the only one interested in the launch of KH-21. As the Delta IV took off for the heavens, cameras tracked it as it rose from Florida. Soon the first stage gave way successfully and the second stage took over. Such sights over Florida were always awe inspiring, regardless of how many launches one had seen. Finally, the last stage of the rocket took over, and KH-21 was heading for its place among the stars.

NASA mission control at Houston was satisfied that everything was going ahead as planed. With everything thus green, they transferred control over to the NSA. After all it belonged to the NSA and it is not that the National Security Agency did not have the expertise in satellite control. The transfer went as easily as the launch, the supervisor thought. It would be soon time to turn KH-21 on.

The first thing that the NSA activated was the local radar. Like everything else, it was the latest radar available. In fact it was so advanced, even the F-22 Stealth Fighter’s radar was obsolete compared to the one in KH-21. The NSA wanted to ensure that their new spy satellite did not crash into anything whilst they were finalising its flight path. The radar signal, however, behaved as a homing beacon for other interested parties.

“I’ve got something on the scope boss” an anxious flight controller said.

“What is it?” ask the supervisor

“I don’t know, but it’s pretty big” the flight controller replied.

Turning to the system’s controller, the supervisor ordered “Quick, turn on all scanning systems now. There’s no time to lose”.

“All systems coming online” the system’s controller said.

“Well?” asked an anxious supervisor.

“It’ll take a minute to warm-up boss” the system’s controller replied

A very long minute later: “There’s a problem with the ultraviolet and infrared cameras, but we have ordinary vision available” the system’s controller announced.

“Well let’s use what we have then. Main viewer.” A second later the huge screen in the control room flickered to display space. It appeared empty except for a small dot in the middle of the screen.

“Zoom in on that dot. Quick. Maximum zoom!” the supervisor spat out.

The picture soon resembled a large space ship heading quickly towards KH-21. “Oh not those little green bastards again!” the surprised supervisor stated.

There were various questions about the ship and what was going on from the others in the room. The supervisor ignored them all whilst running straight to his desk. He took a key out of his pocket and placed it in a keyhole next to a large button. Upon turning the key, the button began to flash red.

“You’re not getting my satellite this time you green punks!” the supervisor said looking up at the large screen. He saw that the ship had already stopped and two humanoids were floating towards KH-21. One of them appeared to be giving the finger towards the satellite’s camera.

“OK, get a load of this little finger man!” the supervisor said as he pushed the flashing red button. “Uncle Sam says ‘Greetings from planet Earth’ you assholes!”

Island Drifter

A huge explosion could be seen in the sky over the Atlantic Ocean. Few could have missed it. Even an intoxicated beach bum in Jamaica saw the bright new star in the heavens. “It’s a sign” the beach bum said to himself. “It’s a sign!” he shouted jubilantly this time.

“Shut up Dubya, you drunk. I’m trying to sleep” another beach bum yelled out from the darkness of the night.

“Kisser my ass, Henry. Get it Kissinger? Kisser my ass? You should learn some English dude” Dubya advised.

“Piss off” an angry Henry called back.

“Oh I will. As soon as it’s morning Henry, as soon as it’s morning.”

Dubya laid back down to get some sleep as he continued to watch the bright new star in the heavens above. As he listened to the rhythm of the waves in the background, it was truly an ideal night in Jamaica. Dubya began to remember his past. Both the high and low moments. He had had one crazy adventure so far. What would the future hold he wondered. Still thinking such thoughts, Dubya soon drifted off to sleep.

“You must go home Dubya” a ghostly Jeb said. “Home awaits.”

“Jeb, is that you?” Dubya asked

“You must voyage home” Jeb said as he faded away.

“No. Don’t go. Don’t go” Dubya cried out as his hands reached out towards the fading ghost in a vain effort to hold onto Jeb. Suddenly Dubya awoke to a far more terrifying sight before him.

“Holy Crap!” a half asleep Dubya screamed.

“You were having a nightmare” a half naked Henry said.

“Either that or I just entered one” Dubya mumbled.

“It’s way past dawn too, but you slept in as usual” stated Henry. “So are you leaving or what?”

“Leaving? Oh I almost forgot. Yes, leaving. Thanks for reminding me Henry. Well, see you around Kisser” Dubya said. They shock hands. Dubya then took his first steps on his journey home .

The next day, Dubya had sought free passage on a freighter bound for the United States. It was a rust bucket which was registered in Lybia. As ridiculous as international laws were, the United States could bomb the nation of Lybia as much as it wanted to, but it could not do much against Lybian owned freighters such as this one. Only two exceptions applied: either the US declared war on Lybia or the President ordered all Lybian assets seized. Yet even then it is not all that simple.

To Dubya, though, none of that mattered. Besides a new President was in office and it was highly unlikely that the new President would want to take on Lybia just yet. For Dubya, he was simply grateful to be heading home for free, provided he did some duties around the ship: not that it appeared anybody bothered with their duties. For outside of Lybian ship regulations, the freighter would have been scrapped years ago by any other country.

A Day At The Office

The USS Dallas, a Los Angeles class submarine captained by Bart Simpson, had just entered its military exercise area to the north of Peurto Rico. Although the local Peurto Ricans complained about the military presence, the US Armed Forces had exercised in the region for decades. More often than not, these exercises involved live ammunition. As a result, many old surplus ships had been sent to the bottom of the sea. One study, conducted by the Environmental Protection Agency, concluded there were more sea wreaks in this one region of sea than all of the American shipping lost during World War II.

“This is the captain” announced Simpson over the boat’s intercom, “we’re in the Zone. Go to battle stations.”

Contrary to many films on submarine warfare, there were no alarms and the like. Only the lights changed colour for combat conditions. As the change took place, Simpson stayed at the conn. “Any sign of our target Mr Thompson?”

Thompson, who was standing at the door to the sonar room next to the bridge, relayed the question to the two sonar men. “Aye sir” said leading sonar man Jones. “One target baring 45 degrees”, which Thompson relayed back to Simpson.

“Very well. Helm, raise the boat to periscope depth” the captain ordered.

“Periscope depth, aye sir” the helmsman replied.

“I want a visual just in case it’s not our target” Simpson said to Thomson and those on the bridge. “You know how some of these freighter captains are like around here.”

At around the same time the engines of the Lybian freighter gave up. Losing all power, not only did she not have any propulsion, but all her lights went black as well: not that it mattered considering it was broad daylight. More to the point, the Lybian freighter appeared dead and deserted to any onlooker.

The periscope broke the surface of the water. “There she is” Simpson observed. “Looks like our target all right. Well, someone has got a sense of humour in the Navy after all.”

“And who might that be skipper?” asked Chief of the Boat.

“I don’t know, but they’ve put a Lybian flag on our target. We better get this right people” Simpson warned. “I don’t want any stuff up like last time”.

“It was rather funny though Captain” the Chief pointed out.

“Well I don’t think making a new bunker, on Peurto Rico’s only golf course, was all that funny for the players at the time Chief” replied Simpson. Turning to the weapon’s station, Simpson added “Weaps, I want a solution on our target. Make it two ADCAPs”.

“Aye sir, already done”.

“Good work Weaps” Simpson congratulated his officer. “Fire!”

After two quiet thuds, “Torpedoes away skipper”, the weapons officer announced.

Damn The Torpedos

“What’s wrong with the engines this time?” Dubya asked another crew mate.

“I don’t know. Same thing as last time I guess”.

“How often does this happen?” inquired Dubya.

“Every now and then. Don’t worry about it. They’ll fix it. They always do” the crew mate said.

Dubya just shock his head, then looked out to sea. “Swell. It’ll be a decade before I reach America”. Then Dubya saw something in the water. “Oh look, two dolphins are swimming towards us.”

“Where?” asked the crew mate.

“There. At three o’clock or whatever you guys say” answered Dubya.

“Oh shit! They aren’t dolphins. They’re torpedoes” the man yelled as he ran for the alarm. A few seconds later the alarm sounded.

The captain quickly called out “What’s happening?”

“Torpedos in the water at 90 degrees starboard”.

“Hell, they’ve found us. Damned American buckaroos” the Russian captain said. Grabbing the microphone for the ship’s intercom he first said something in Russian. Then he reverted to English “Abandon ship, repeat, abandon ship. Torpedoes in the water. All hands abandon ship.”

The Russian captain did not announce it a second time. Instead he ran to his cabin, took out a gun, and fired several shots into very sophisticated looking communications gear. After emptying the bullets of his gun into the equipment, he too took off for the lifeboats like everyone else.

Simpson watched through the periscope. Something looked wrong. Puzzled, Simpson walked over to the weapon’s monitor station and turned on the camera atop the periscope.

“What’s wrong skipper?” the monitor officer asked.

“I don’t know. Zoom the camera in on that ship”

“Aye sir”

“What’s that just there?” the skipper asked whilst pointing at the monitor.

“A man diving. And there sir, there’s a lifeboat with people aboard” the assistant monitor, a midshipman, observed.

“Aye Carumba!" Simpson called out. “Quick, self destruct on torpedos one and two”.

“Too late skipper, they’re too close. They’ve already armed themselves and are independent” the weapon’s officer announced. “Both have acquired the target and are about twenty seconds away from impact.”

“Get off the ship guys. Quick” Simpson prayed to himself. “Helm, surface the boat and head for the target. Full speed.”

“Rising to the surface; heading for target; full speed; aye sir” announced the helmsman.

Before the torpedos hit, all the seamen of the Lybian freighter had evacuated the ship. Although far from total safety, when the two torpedos hit, all the crew nonetheless survived the explosions. The survivors, however, were far from happy.

“Well that was a close call. The Cubans must be annoyed about something” Dubya said.

“Who knows. Could be the Americans” a crewman with a Russian accent replied.

“So who might you be sailor?” asked Dubya.

“Captain Putin”

“Shouldn’t a captain have a ship?”

“I did until recently” Putin replied wondering if this American was for real.

“What happened to it?”

“It just got sunk or haven’t you been keeping up with events lately?” stated Putin more than asked.

“You mean that old bucket of bolts?” inquired Dubya.

“Da! That old bucket of bolts you capitalist pig” snorted an annoyed Russian captain.

Just then the Dallas sailed up to where the lifeboats were. Rescue teams were at the ready to collect the sailors of the sunken ship. Soon they were safe and sound albeit in shock. Once the last rescued sailer was aboard, the Dallas headed for the nearest American mainland port in Florida.

Rise of the Dot Coms

News quickly spread about the dramatic rescue by the Dallas. And the news was everywhere. Thankfully for Captain Simpson, no one had yet asked about how the Lybian freighter had been sunk. The media was far more interested in the fact that the freighter was probably a Russian spy ship eavesdropping on the Navy’s exercises around Peurto Rico.

The FBI initially kept Dubya with the rest of the crew of spies. But they soon released him to a waiting media. All the FBI said was that they had cleared Dubya of any suspicious activity. The final report, which was not released, concluded that:

The suspect, Dubya, is far too stupid to be a lair. I thus view his testimony to be true. After further investigation into this suspect, I can only find limited circumstantial evidence against him, which, in itself, amounts too nothing. There is, however, some evidence about drug related issues, but this has nothing to do with this investigation. I did, however, look into this drug issue, but again there is nothing firm. On the allegation, though, that he is involved with espionage against the United States, all available evidence points towards his innocence. I recommend his release, unfortunately.

Agent Fox Mulder

The reporters swarmed around Dubya like angry bees as he walked down the steps of the FBI office in Florida. News had gotten out that Dubya had saved the crew of the spy ship. Not knowing the full story, though, the reporters wanted to be the first one to break the news.

“Are you a spy?” one report asked.

“Nope” answered Dubya.

“What were you doing on the spy ship?”

“Trying to get home” replied Dubya.

“Where’s home?” another reporter asked.

“The United States of America” Dubya announced patriotically.

“Did you save the crew?” a different reporter asked getting to the point.

“Oh I don’t know. I merely saw something heading for the ship which ended up sinking it. But before it hit, I told others what I saw and we abandoned ship” Dubya reported

“So you’re a hero then?” another reporter questioned

“I wouldn’t say so. I just saw what I saw” Dubya explained.

“Would you say a humble hero?” the same reported asked

Dubya liked the sound of that: “Maybe”.

At that point the FOX News reporter pulled away to her camera: “And there you have it Rod. A humble American hero, saving these spies from their sinking ship, so they could be arrested by the Navy. It’s a proud day to be an American. It’s a remarkable story, Rod.”

Small businessman Ari Fleischer was watching the TV like many others that evening. It was a strange story, but very popular. In fact a lot of people had been calling into radio talk stations and the like praising the actions of this new American hero. Because of his name, Dubya, Fleischer thought it would be a great advertising gimmick to use Dubya as the name of his website hosting company.

Within a day, Dubya had signed up with Fleischer. Licensing his name, Dubya would not only make a good steady income from the royalties, but his fame would continue to spread across America. Indeed his name would even spread around the globe when ‘Dubya Dubya Dubya Dot Com’ listed on the NASDQ to instant record results. Fleischer became a billionaire literally overnight. Many other characters soon jumped on the internet Dot Com band wagon as well. Soon hundreds of these asset less internet companies were everywhere. And they were all worth billions of dollars based on nothing.

Fleischer was not the only one to take notice of the TV news that evening. Poppa saw the same news report as did Fleischer and 270 million other Americans. “Is that who I think it is mother?” Poppa asked his wife.

“I think it’s our boy Poppa” Mom said excitedly. “He’s come home and, what’s more, he’s a national hero!”

“National hero my butt” Poppa stated. “That little SOB cost me my job. These days I can’t even serve humble pie at McDonald’s thanks to your son.”

“His your son too you know”

“Have you got DNA proof on that?” Poppa asked as he reached for a phone.

“Who else did he get that head from then?” answered Mom Bush.

The Return of Dubya

It was 11pm when the phone rang in Dubya’s apparent overlooking Miami. Miami was an interesting city to say the least. But tonight a thunderstorm was raging. In a strange kind of way, it made for a tranquil sight with the flash of lightning here and there.

“Yello?” Dubya said.

“This is Poppa”

“Who?”

“Poppa.”

“Quit mucking around Ari” said Dubya.

“Who’s Ari?” the voice asked

“You are” Dubya replied

“I’m not Ari you idiot, I’m Poppa” the voice said again.

“Poppa? Poppa!” Dubya inquired starting to feel concerned.

“Yes, him. Remember me you little crap?” Poppa said.

“I’m not crap Poppa. Say Hi to Mom” Dubya requested.

“Listen here you moron…”

Dubya cut in “I want to say Hi to Mom.”

“He wants to speak to you” Poppa said as he handed over the phone.

“Hi son”.

“Hi Mom, how’s things?” Dubya asked.

“Good. And you?” asked Dubya’s mother.

“Oh things are swell. Did you see me on the TV, Mom?”

“Give me the phone back would you” Poppa butted in grabbing the phone.

“Mom?” Dubya asked

“It’s Poppa”

“Where’s Mom?”

“Never mind. What did you do to Jeb?” Poppa demanded to know.

At that point there was an horrific clap of thunder just outside of Dubya’s apartment. Lightning had struck the phone box down on the street below. At the speed of light, 300 000km/s, an enormous amount of electricity ran through the local phone lines. Before Dubya could do or say a thing, a bolt of electricity jumped out of the phone he was holding and into his ear. Dubya was thrown across the room falling unconscious in the doggy bed.

Dreamland

“Dubya. Dubya!” a ghostly Jeb called

“What? Oh it’s you Jeb. I’d thought you had left me forever” Dubya said

“It’s not time for that yet” Jeb replied

“Poppa called” stated Dubya

“Called you did he?” a ghostly Oliver North asked as he faded into view.

“Yes” replied Dubya

“Why?” asked Jeb

“He wanted to know what happened, especially to you” Dubya reported

“Unexpected this is” North observed.

“Indeed” Jeb agreed

“Why is it unexpected?” Dubya inquired

“Clouded is the Dark side. Hard to see it is” North explained.

“Have you tried glasses?” asked Dubya

“I don’t need glasses”

“Well if you can’t see I’d say you need glasses” Dubya suggested.

“Shut-up idiot” North said now irritated. “I’m a ghost you moron, where am I going to get glasses from?”

“I don’t know, some ghost obtrition” answered Dubya.

“Obtrition? What the hell is an obtrition?” North wanted to know.

“He means an optometrist Oli” Jeb explained.

“Yeah, that’s it, optomo, whatever” agreed Dubya.

“There is nothing like that for us ghosts. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation. I swear we’re all doomed!” North cried.

“What?” a confused Dubya asked.

“Doomed you jerk. You do know what doomed means don’t you?” demanded North.

“Of course I do” defended Dubya.

“Damn, is that the time already?” Jeb butted in.

“Just be ready to accept your fate young Dubya. We’re all depending on you” North said as he faded away.

“Use the Force Dubya” Jeb said as he likewise faded away.

Wanted Dead Or Alive

“I’ve had an interesting request from the previous President this morning. It seems that there’s some character running around claiming to be his son. The previous President has asked me if we can capture this character called Dubya for questioning” the recently elected President of the United States Bill Clinton announced. “So who can I use to grab this Dubya?”

“The NSA sir” answered the National Security Adviser Anthony Lake

“OK, but how do we keep an eye on the NSA in this affair? I don’t want it getting into the media” said Clinton

“We can use the CIA” answered his Attorney General Janet Reno, “but they can’t act domestically.”

“Congress watches over them anyway. Needless to say, Poppa and I don’t want them to find out about this business. If Congress finds out about it you can bet it’ll be on CNN five minutes later” Clinton observed.

“Well Congress doesn’t really matter anyway Mr President” Reno informed Clinton.

“It doesn’t?”

“Not on this matter. You see the CIA never tells them what it’s really doing. Far more importantly, it’s the FBI who keeps track of the CIA” said Reno

“And the FBI answers to me?” inquired Clinton.

“Not really sir, although the US Marshall’s Office usually keeps an eye on the activities of the FBI” Reno answered back.

“And I gather you keep the Marshall’s in line Janet?”

“Ah no sir. The Secret Service mostly does that” offered Lake.

“Well they’re my bodyguards so I finally control something!” Clinton said with some frustration in his voice.

“No sir”, cut in Lake, “the Secret Service works for the Treasury.”

“So who keeps an eye on the Treasury?” a depressed Clinton asked.

“Well, in reality, no one Mr President” Reno hesitantly answered.

“Are you telling me that no one is in control of the various security agencies of the United States?” demanded Clinton

“There’s always military intelligence”, Lake offered, “but we are talking the Pentagon here.”

“And the Pentagon leaks like sieves” added Reno.

“Meanwhile, the NSA spies on the lot of them including us” a nonplussed Chief of Staff said whilst shaking his head.

“Swell” Clinton concluded. After a few seconds of thought: “The NSA it is then.”

On the Run Again

Dubya awoke to having his face being licked. Dubya had bought ‘Mutt the Terrier’ the day he had been let out of the FBI office. Not really understanding why he wanted a dog, he had gotten one anyway. Mutt was real friendly. Too friendly at times Dubya thought. Nonetheless Mutt liked Dubya, although Fleischer did not like Dubya bringing Mutt to the office. Mutt, however, did not like Fleischer and would bark at him whenever Fleischer was around.

Dubya finally got up out of the doggy bed. His hair was sticking up from his head, but he did not notice. Stumbling around, Dubya headed for the kitchen to get a glass of water. “I suppose I’d better get you something to eat there little fellow”

Mutt waged his tail and gave a bark in the affirmative. Five minutes later, both dog and master were eating breakfast when there was a knock on the door. Mutt started barking with a wry tone. “What’s up little fellow?” Dubya asked as he walked to the door. Mutt kept barking.

Dubya called out “If it’s the barking, that you’ve come to complain about, he only barks a little.”

“It’s not about the dog, sir” a deep and threatening voice answered. “I’m from the NSA. I’d like to ask you a few questions”

“About what?” Dubya asked through the door.

“About a certain phone call made to you sir. I think you know what I mean” came the threatening reply.

“Holy Crap Mutt. We’re in deep shit. It’s Poppa. Run!” Dubya cried.

Dubya and Mutt ran for the balcony door to the sounds of something being beaten behind them. Looking around, Dubya saw the fire escape and headed for it grabbing Mutt in the process. Dubya quickly descended down the ladder and made it to the ground as two NSA agents began to use the fire escape themselves. Dropping Mutt to the ground, Dubya took off up the street and ran away from the apartment block.

“Use the Force, Dubya, use the Force” an invisible Jeb whispered.

“Who is that?” Dubya asked.

“Run, Dubya, run. Go!” Jeb answered.

“Look, whoever you are, I’m kind of busy” replied Dubya. “Go pester someone else”.

“Use the Force, Dubya.”

Dubya had had enough of this voice. He stoped running from his pursuers to tell the voice “Look, I don’t know who you are but I’ve had enough already. Keep up this whispering stuff and I’ll…” It was a most inappropriate time to stop running. Just as Dubya nearly finished his sentence he felt a sharp stabbing pain in his backside.

“OUCH! What the hell was that?” said Dubya as he felt around his body.

“I’m shot in the butt, Mutt!” Dubya shouted when he discovered something foreign.

It only took a few seconds for the drug to hit Dubya’s system. The last thing he remembered, before he passed out, was pulling the NSA tranquilliser dart from his buttocks. “And I thought Mexican mosquitoes were big.”

Mutt disappeared in fright.

The Cell

“He is our last hope” a ghostly Jeb said with conviction.

“No. There is another” a ghostly North replied using a similar vocal tone.

“Who?” asked Jeb

“A sister” North answered as he faded away followed by Jeb.

Dubya slowly awoke in a large cell. As he did, he began to mutter to himself a few times “I have a sister?”

“The answer to your question is Hilary Clinton” a strange but friendly voice said in the room.

“Who?” asked a groggy Dubya

“Hilary Clinton” the voice answered

“How‘d you know that?” questioned Dubya.

“I’m telepathic, among other things.”

“You’re a telephone?” a half woken Dubya asked

“Telepathic, not telephone. You Earthlings!” a small green humanoid snorted with some disgust. “It’s the ability to read people’s minds”

“Oh I see, I think. So who might you be?” a somewhat awaken Dubya inquired.

“I’m what you people call an alien”

“An Australian?” Dubya asked thinking he had misheard his cell mate.

“No, not Australian. Alien. I’m from another planet”

“Mars?” questioned a sceptical Dubya.

“No. Andromeda Prime” corrected the alien.

“Never heard of it. Where is it?”

“About 100 light years that way” said the alien as he pointed towards the ceiling.

“Sounds like you’re a long way from home there little green fellow” Dubya observed.

“Not for long” suggested the alien smiling.

“Well I hope they’re treating you OK here.”

“Not really” replied the alien

“That’s not nice of them. You should call your lawyer and get that fixed at least” Dubya said. “It’s in the, ah, something or other”

“Oh I’ve already made a call. It won’t be long now before I’m free” announced the alien.

Before Dubya could say anything else, there was a clunk at the door. A second later it opened to reveal two guards. Behind them there was Poppa looking hardly friendly. The three visitors entered, upon which, the door seemed to close all by itself.

Face Off

“Hi Poppa. Come to get me out?” Dubya inquired hopefully.

“Shut-up and sit down” replied Poppa.

“Have you met my little green friend here?” Dubya asked

“No and I don’t want to.”

“You’re an unfriendly Earthling” the alien observed.

“Well, no thanks to him” Poppa said pointing at Dubya.

“Me? What did I do?” Dubya protested

“Yes what did he do?” the alien asked taking Dubya’s side.

“He lost me my job for one thing. I used to be the President!” Poppa announced

“So you’re the asshole who destroyed my ship?” asked the alien

“I said I was the President. That was the next guy” explained Poppa.

“And who’s that?” Dubya inquired

“Bill Clinton” answered Poppa.

“Any relation to Hilary Clinton?” asked Dubya

“She’s his wife you jerk. Don’t you know anything?” Poppa stated more than asked

“More than you do” Dubya said. “Like I still see Jeb and I’ve got a sister”

“Bullshit. Jeb is dead. And you have no sister” Poppa reported.

“Well I see him anyway. And he said I have a sister” Dubya said pointing to the alien.

“How would he know?” asked Poppa.

“He’s telephonic”

“Telepathic!” corrected the alien.

“So who is this sister?” a curious Poppa demanded to know.

Before Dubya could answer, a beam of red light began to encircle the green alien. “Well I must go. Thanks for the chat” the alien said as he gave the finger to Poppa.

“It’s the Force!” Dubya shouted as he jumped toward the beam of red light.

“Dubya, no!” Poppa called out fruitlessly. But it was pointless. As soon as Dubya entered the beam of red light, he and the alien, were gone.

Fall of the Dot Coms

KH-18 had seen them coming. Actually it was more like watching them go considering the speed of the alien battlecruiser. The supervisor at NSA could not believe his eyes. Unlike like the previous ship, this one was at least five times the size and appeared very menacing indeed. There was no telling, however, what its purpose was as it sped past the KH-18 in its deep distance orbit.

“At least they didn’t steal a KH this time” the supervisor said. Then, just to make certain, he asked “Jane, we don’t have anything about to launch do we?”

“No boss. Nothing that I know of. The CIA could have, although I highly doubt it as we’re usually notified as a courtesy. But not us, the Air Force, or NASA” Jane confirmed.

“Well that’s a relief” the supervisor breathed out. As an afterthought he ordered “Keep a track of this ship people. Let’s see what these little green bastards get up to this time.”

Even for powerful ships, such as this green alien one, coming into close Earth orbit was risky. “Damned Earthlings and their junk” the alien pilot said in his own language.

“Lookout, there’s another big piece coming up. 350 degrees mark 40” announced the navigator looking down at his scanner.

“Got it” thanked the pilot.

“Can you believe these aliens?” the first officer said out loud.

“Yes they’re very primitive Number One. I told the higher ups that we should stay away from these Earthlings. How they managed to destroy the scout ship I’ll never know” stated the Captain

“Maybe the scout ship hit something floating around out here” suggested the first officer.

“It wouldn’t surprise me all things considered. And now we’re on a rescue mission” the captain said half complaining.

“There’s nothing on the tactical scanner or computer Captain” the tactical officer announced.

“Good. Keep the ECM up though” replied the Captain.

“Damn, there’s another big piece of junk at 15 degrees mark 300. Correction, it’s their International Space Station” the navigator said.

“Keep well clear of it all the same pilot” ordered the first officer.

“Aye sir” acknowledged the pilot. “I hear they drink some liquid called ‘acid and Pepsi’ on that junk pile. One look at it and I don’t blame them. Anyway, they then see white elephants!”

“Crap” said the Ship’s Chief.

“No, Chief, it’s true. I read an Earthling report, one that the scouts collected from the alien’s NASA last year, which states exactly that” confirmed the tactical officer.

“You believe anything these aliens write or broadcast” the Chief replied with a laugh. “You’re almost as bad as these Earthling assholes. I must admit, though, it is fun giving them the finger every time we pass one of their crude probes.”

“Enough of that Chief. Save it for later” suggested the Captain.

“Aye, sir”

“How long before we’re in range navigator?” the first officer inquired.

“Any time from now Commander”.

“Good. Transporter Room: beam away” the first officer ordered.

There was one major problem using the Transporter. It put out an enormous amount of energy, the effects of which amounted to a large Electro-Magnetic Pulse. Everything electrical, for thousands of kilometres, would be interrupted if not rendered useless unless it was shielded. Nonetheless, it was the only way for the aliens to rescue their fellow citizen who was currently a prisoner at the NSA headquarters.

Although the rescue was successful, the Electro Magnetic Pulse damage done to the east coast of the United States was horrendous. Everything from power stations to televisions to cars to the internet went crashing down. Even the Wall Street Stock Exchange and the NASDQ went off line. Eastern America stoped. It would take well over a month to restore everything back to normal. Alas a lot of companies, especially Dubya Dubya Dubya Dot Com (not to mention most others in the internet industry), went bust. The American economy would shortly follow. Fleischer would lose it all.

Meanwhile, back on the green alien ship, two creatures walked out of the Transporter Chamber.

“Holy Crap! I need a new pair of underpants” a terrified Dubya declared in English.

“Who’s that? And what’s that smell?” the teleport officer asked in the alien’s language.

“Oh the Earthling?” Dubya’s cell mate replied in the same alien tongue.

“Yes, that one” the teleport officer confirmed.

“He’s no-one. Mostly harmless. More stupid than anything. The smell is typical of many Earthlings, although with him it only just started. I’d suggest the standard procedure. Give him an anal probe first, then throw him back as we usually do” the doctor (and only survivor) of the destroyed alien scout ship said.

Dubya did not know what was going on, yet he meekly went along with his new found friends. Drugged for the anal probe, two things took place. Thankfully for Earth, it would save the planet. Firstly, the green aliens concluded that maybe the Earthlings were not as dangerous as first thought based upon the intellectual capacity of Dubya. And secondly, the power absorbed by the probe investigating Dubya extremely limited the power available to the weapons. Hence their weapons could fire no more than a mere whimper. As a result, thus, it was decided to give the Human race a second chance.

“He has saved us all” a ghostly Jeb said.

“Yes. In peace we sleep again for a little while” replied a ghostly North before they both faded away.

Aftermath

Poppa was left standing there in the cell not knowing what had just happened. Later he returned home to an angry wife. Although the two stayed together, Poppa needed a month in hospital to recover from a mean beating. Other than that, Poppa is still unemployed and cannot find a job. He has, however, started to investigate Dubya’s claim that there might be a sister out there. Until this day, Poppa has only discovered circumstantial evidence leading to no particular conclusion.

Hilary Clinton is alive and well in Washington DC totally oblivious to the fact that she is really a Bush. She is still married to Bill Clinton for the moment.

Captain Putin, and the rest of the crew of the spy ship, were eventually released and sent back to Russia as a sign of good will between the USA and Russia. Putin became a hero of the Russian People. He has received many awards and promotions. Eventually he ended up as chairman of the new Russian intelligence agency. After the Russian President Boris Yeltsin finally retired, Putin became the new Russian leader.

Captain Larry Bond was arrested for crimes against the environment after setting the Alaskan oil pipeline on fire. His trial is to take place shortly. Several environmental groups (including Greenpeace), however, want to dispense with the trail and hang him from a tree immediately.

Ari Fleischer is currently serving five years in prison for bankruptcy and fraud. He may, however, be released early for good behaviour.

Chuck Norris is still trying to act.

Tom Clancy, after failing several courses at UCLA, is still studying literacy.

KH-19 is still missing and now considered killed in action.

Mutt the Terrier got together with a stray poodle named Dixie. They have a nice place near Miami Beach with a large loving family of pups.

As a result of the destruction of the alien scout ship and the subsequent rescue, the aliens have decided to postpone all further missions to Earth space. Another method will be needed in order to acquire top secret NASA documents. Reading NASA reports about the Earthling’s International Space Station has become extremely popular. A commission into the scout ship’s demise found that the probable cause was an unexpected collision with some Earthling space junk. The surviving alien doctor, though, disagreed with the finding of the commission and is currently suing for compensation.

The International Space Station is still in operation. Contrary to eyewitness accounts, NASA continually denies that white elephants regularly visit the astronauts.

The NSA is hoping to launch KH-22 sometime in the near future. As part of the security arrangements, the NSA has requested that the US Air Force place a squadron of Peacemaker ICBMs on alert should anything go wrong. The Air Force is still reviewing the request.

No one has seen or heard from Dubya since his alien abduction.

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