The
Journey of George Bush
A fictional account...
Author: Stephen
DeVoy
George
Bush found himself, disoriented, in a misty place. Harp music could be
heard in the distance. As he walked along, trying to get his bearings,
occasionally distracted by the desire for a cold beer or a snort of cocaine, he
saw a light in the distance distorted by the passing mist. He walked
towards the light, step by step, wondering where he was and how he got
there. With each step forward, the light seemed to move back a step.
It was taking him much longer to reach the light than he thought it would.
He looked down and saw that he was naked.
"Condi!" he yelled. "Condi! I need someone to
put my pants on, for God's sake!" "Damn it, where is
everyone?" he thought.
George Bush continued, walking towards the light. Along the way
there was a sign. He looked at the sign and tried to sound out the words,
but he made no progress. "Karl," he said. "Karl, do
you hear me, I need some help here?" There was no reply. He
reached behind his back and the receiving device was not there.
"Shit!" he yelled. "Now I'm really lost."
He had been walking for what seemed like hours when he began to feel
hungry. Thoughts of pretzels danced in his head. He began to
salivate, imagining a very, very big pretzel. "Laura?" he called
out. "Laura, could you bring me a pretzel, honey? Honey?
Are you there?" Once again, there was no answer. George Bush
was walking there, alone in the mist, naked.
He looked up at the light again, but it seemed to be just as far away as
it was a while back. He thought to himself, "I bet Kerry would just
stop, think for a while, and try to figure this out. What a girly
man!"
Steadfast, unswerving, he continued walking towards the light, which
continued to recede at an equal pace. He walked, and walked, and walked,
and walked and it seemed it would never end when a voice behind him said,
"George. Excuse me, George, but you're walking in the wrong
direction."
Bush stopped for a moment but did not turn around. "Who the
fuck are you?" he asked. "Don't you know who you're fucking
talking to?"
Bush raised his head, proud and steadfast and without turning around he
continued walking in the direction of the light. This time the light
seemed to be getting a little closer. George Bush felt more confident,
more steadfast and continued walking.
"George, turn around George!" commanded the voice.
"Fuck you!" said George Bush. "I'm the President of
the United States of America. I don't have to listen to you."
He
looked forward at the light and noticed that it was much closer than
before. He smiled.
An angel, watching from afar, watched as George Bush drifted ever faster
towards the light, feet moving as if walking, floating through the misty void.
Finally, George Bush reached the light and a spiritual being held out his
hand to him.
"God, I'm happy to see you," said George Bush. "I've
been walking for days. Why did you make me walk so far?"
The spiritual being looked at George Bush and smiled. "You
haven't been walking, my son," he said. "You've been drifting
towards me. You did not need to move your legs for your legs played no
role in reaching my abode. And by the way, Mr. President, I'm not
God. He's been following you for some time trying to get you to turn
around. I'm Satan and this is hell."
George Bush became pale. He turned around to see God, but God was no
longer there.
"There is no turning back now, Mr. President. You have
arrived. God has given up on you. Honestly, I'm glad you made the
choice you did. It gets lonely here in hell. Conversations with
Hitler, Mussolini, Stalin, and the rest have grown stale and I need a new
companion to keep me entertained while I roast them over the spit. Here's
your orange jump suit. Here's your cage. Let's roll!"