Marshmallow
Predator Press
[LOBO]
Admit it ... the first thing that rang through our little minds was, "Was it a Democrat?"
Look, he's the Vice President of the United States for Chrissake ... aren't even the quail screened by the Secret Service in this kind of situation? Isn't there a Secret Service guy out there with a sniper rifle to take out the quail in case the VP misses?
Predator Press has the exclusive story.
Cheney came to the hunt in the Winter Camouflage Ensemble, sporting all the accessories from the M-16 all the way down to the sparkly Nucular [sic] Football.
Whittington showed up wearing the same outfit.
Words were exchanged, pine cones were thrown.
"Boom!" Harry cried. "Pine cones are grenades!"
Cheney balked. "Not until you tag the grill! You are out of bounds until you tag the grill!"
Alarmed into action by the use of grills and pine cone grenades, the quail sprung a retreat which prompted the secret service into action: gunfire inevitably erupted followed by surface-to-air missile launching which accidentally took out the Predator Press News Chopper [That's my story to the insurance company, and I'm sticking to it].
When we arrived on the scene the bus driver refused to continue on and gave us a hard time about giving us transfers. The forest was already ablaze: a smoky molten mass of hot lead, screaming quail and roasted marshmallows. Whittington reportedly "objected" to all bullets fired, but the Supreme court had already ruled that guns were fun and Whittington was basically a jerk anyways.
Then Tom Delay, covered in bush, camouflage and war paint climbed out of a pool of mud. He had several envelopes stuck on the tip of his bayonet. "Dick!" he cried. "Look! I got two gas bills, pizza coupons, and I think I won the Irish Sweepstakes!"
"I said we were hunting quail you moron," growled Cheney.
Tom, Dick and Harry all declined comment. Well, Harry would, but all we could make out was "OWEEEOWEEEOWEEEEE ...!" The President, however, was jubilant. "When Dick finds out Harry is only suffering from woundification, there's gonna be Hell to pay" Bush chuckled. He then whispered, "I told Cheney that Whittington was on the wiretap case."
Unfortunately, none of this sits well in the quail community; their homeland utterly destroyed. Even more unfortunate is the fact that none of us speaks quail, but we'll imagine what the quails would tell us in our effort to bring you the absolute journalistic Truth of the matter.
"America was our friend," the Quail Leader would squawk. "When they came in they said all they wanted was to crush all those evil deer. And maybe take out a lawyer or two. Now they are gone! Look at what they have done!"
The White House, seeking to choose a military leader with some experience in these sensitive political matters, has deployed a "peacekeeping" force: the entire Twelfth Armored Brigade under the leadership of one Colonel Sanders.
"I love the smell of napalm in the morning," declared the wily Colonel. "Smells like ... extra crispy."
[LOBO]
Admit it ... the first thing that rang through our little minds was, "Was it a Democrat?"Look, he's the Vice President of the United States for Chrissake ... aren't even the quail screened by the Secret Service in this kind of situation? Isn't there a Secret Service guy out there with a sniper rifle to take out the quail in case the VP misses?
Predator Press has the exclusive story.
Cheney came to the hunt in the Winter Camouflage Ensemble, sporting all the accessories from the M-16 all the way down to the sparkly Nucular [sic] Football.
Whittington showed up wearing the same outfit.
Words were exchanged, pine cones were thrown.
"Boom!" Harry cried. "Pine cones are grenades!"
Cheney balked. "Not until you tag the grill! You are out of bounds until you tag the grill!"
Alarmed into action by the use of grills and pine cone grenades, the quail sprung a retreat which prompted the secret service into action: gunfire inevitably erupted followed by surface-to-air missile launching which accidentally took out the Predator Press News Chopper [That's my story to the insurance company, and I'm sticking to it].
When we arrived on the scene the bus driver refused to continue on and gave us a hard time about giving us transfers. The forest was already ablaze: a smoky molten mass of hot lead, screaming quail and roasted marshmallows. Whittington reportedly "objected" to all bullets fired, but the Supreme court had already ruled that guns were fun and Whittington was basically a jerk anyways.
Then Tom Delay, covered in bush, camouflage and war paint climbed out of a pool of mud. He had several envelopes stuck on the tip of his bayonet. "Dick!" he cried. "Look! I got two gas bills, pizza coupons, and I think I won the Irish Sweepstakes!"
"I said we were hunting quail you moron," growled Cheney.
Tom, Dick and Harry all declined comment. Well, Harry would, but all we could make out was "OWEEEOWEEEOWEEEEE ...!" The President, however, was jubilant. "When Dick finds out Harry is only suffering from woundification, there's gonna be Hell to pay" Bush chuckled. He then whispered, "I told Cheney that Whittington was on the wiretap case."
Unfortunately, none of this sits well in the quail community; their homeland utterly destroyed. Even more unfortunate is the fact that none of us speaks quail, but we'll imagine what the quails would tell us in our effort to bring you the absolute journalistic Truth of the matter.
"America was our friend," the Quail Leader would squawk. "When they came in they said all they wanted was to crush all those evil deer. And maybe take out a lawyer or two. Now they are gone! Look at what they have done!"
The White House, seeking to choose a military leader with some experience in these sensitive political matters, has deployed a "peacekeeping" force: the entire Twelfth Armored Brigade under the leadership of one Colonel Sanders.
"I love the smell of napalm in the morning," declared the wily Colonel. "Smells like ... extra crispy."
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