One Story You Never Heard
By James T. Moore (03/16/07)
The morning was grey and foggy and patches of crystal-like frost covered the dead grass. In a small clearing surrounded by pecan trees a monumental event was about to take place.
Al Gore, getting nervous about what the polls were showing, had challenged George W. Bush to a duel, to decide once and for all, who would be the next president of the United States, and Bush being a true Texan, promptly took the challenge to heart, strapped on his gun belt, and accepted.
Gore wanted swords, like Clinton he was an expert at splitting hairs, and Bush had some hairs that really needed splitting. Bush, on the other hand, had opted for pistols because he had aimed some shots at Gore during the campaign and figured one more to the head might do the trick, In the end, pistols was decided with a coin toss by Ralph Nader, who, green with envy, couldn’t care less about who got killed. Or how.
Gore’s lieutenant, Mr. Lieberman, opened a plush leather box, withdrew an elegantly crafted pistol and handed it to Gore. Bush’s second, Mr. Cheney, with quiet resolve and a smirk, did likewise for his man. No one spoke. This was a defining moment, and the history-making importance of it precluded any trivial talk.
Upon examining their weapons and giving them a heft to feel the balance, the two men stood back to back, pistols raised in the air; a precarious position given the mutual urge of each men to turn around fast and shoot his opponent as quickly as possible.
At a given signal, Bush and Gore took ten paces in opposite directions, then turned and raised their weapons, at which time Gore was heard to mutter, “This one’s for the children”, and got off the first shot, The lobe on Bush’s left ear suddenly disappeared.
As Bush was aiming his pistol, Gore pointed to a nearby tree and exclaimed, “Look at that!” Bush turned, instinctively fired, and a squirrel fell to the ground, dead. This rankled Gore who had a thing for the environment and all the creatures in it. But before he could collect himself, Bush fired again—from the hip this time—and a finger on Gore’s left hand went flying off.
Each nan was to be given three shots at his opponent, and may the most accurate (not necessarily the best) man win. By the time Bush and Gore had exhausted their supply of ammunition, pinging off little bits and pieces of each other’s extremities (both men were expert shots) they were bleeding so badly and hurting so much that a strange and totally unexpected resolution of their fight took place: the men dropped their pistols and walked over to each other,
Bush said, “Look at us, Al. We’re a damned mess.”
Gores nodded and replied, “We sure are. What the hell are we doing this for anyway?”
“Well,” said Bush, “It was your idea, Al. I just went along.”
“I know, Dubya,” Gore said, “you always were sort of a go-along kind of a guy. So what do you say we call it a bloody draw and get the hell out of here?”
“Okay be me,” Bush shot back, “and I don’t even give a damn what my father and brother Jeb have to say about this.”
As they walked away, arm in arm, Bush offered one of his famous bipartisan compromises: “Tell you what, Al, I’ll give you the budget deficit, minimum wage, and the environment, if you’ll give me the illegal aliens, Iraq and Iran, and the New World Order, What do ya say?”
Gore thought it over, and said. “Done.”
As they walked off the dueling field one could not help seeing that each man had a hand behind his back with his figners crossed.
Disgusted with the outcome of the duel, Cheney suddenly turned, slapped Lieberman across the face with a copy of the U.S. Constitution, and announced, “I challenge you to a duel next Saturday, Joe. What’s it going to be, pistols or swords?”
Lieberman shook his head, “Sorry I can’t make it, Dick, We don’t do anything in Saturdays."
James T. Moore
http://jamestmoore.us/
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