“You can’t come in he- urk!”
“I am a United States Senator, and I can go anywhere I want to, junior!” bellowed Senator Ninja at the young secret service agent he held by the neck about six inches above the ground. The agent was taken aback, suddenly realizing his folly as the martial arts master/congressman cut off the circulation to his brain.
Also, he ninja-slapped him for good measure.
“Of- of course... Senator Ninja! I... urgh... I’m sorry for the inconvenience, sir!”
Senator Ninja threw the agent against the adjoining wall, knocking over a glass case of children’s popsicle stick houses.
“Don’t let it happen again, or I might get angry,” he sneered. “and when I get angry I eat. Do you want the most prominent senator in the United States Senate to get fat, boy?”
“No sir!” barked the agent weakly as he rubbed his throat.
“Good. Because I’m very self-conscious about my weight problem, citizen.” Senator Ninja’s eyes started to tear up. “You have no idea how hard it is to keep in shape when you’re my age and you have a job that requires you to be inside all the time. I’m a ninja, man! A ninja! I crave excitement!”
Most ninjas have weight problems due to their love of fried chicken.
And with that, the door to the senate chamber burst open. Vice President Dick Cheney stepped out, wearing a fez and carrying a tire under his left arm.
“Senator Ninja! The office of the Vice President has need of your services once again!” he screeched in his Wyoming drawl. Wyoming is such a nice place, Senator Ninja thought to himself. Then he suddenly had an epiphany.
“Dick,” he started, his eyes beginning to swell once more. “Dick, I’m a senator, right?”
“Yaaaarrrr! Ye be a senator,” said the Vice President in a mock pirate timbre.
“Then... who am I representing here?! What state- what- where am I from?!”
“Who am I?!”
When Dick Cheney heard this, he whipped his head around to the injured secret agent who was still stroking his neck.
And with that, the young man jumped up and used his government sanctioned rocket boots to exit via the ceiling. “Oowwwwww...” he cried as he flew off into the night.
“Why’d you go and do that?” cried Senator Ninja. “That... was—sniff—my best friend! I was finally—sniff—connecting with another human being!”
“Enough of your theatrics,” belted out Cheney as he tore the glasses from his face in a dramatic manner. “You were right. Sadly, the scones have indeed returned.” He paused a moment to let that sink in. Senator Ninja stood there crestfallen, then looked up at the gaping hole in the ceiling.
“Yup. That’s a gaping hole, all right.”
“Who’s paying for that hole?”
“What hole? I see no hole.”
“The taxpayers, Senator Ninja.”
Cheney pulled out a small envelope from his right front pocket. It had a sick rubbery look to it, and was a pale mauve. He handed it to Senator Ninja.
“Here are the directions to our outpost in northern Canada. May the force, like, totally be with you, dude.” said Cheney in a faux California valley girl voice. “Ch-yeah!”
“I won’t miss that,” said Senator Ninja under his breath as he tore open the letter. He pulled out a single piece of paper; there was nothing written on it. It was completely blank.
“Hey Cheney, this- Cheney?”
The hallway was empty. The only evidence Cheney had ever been there was a lingering aroma of cheap cologne and bird shot.
“I’ll say this for him; the man knows how to make an exit,” came a voice from the far end of the hall. Senator Ninja swiveled a full 180 degrees, bringing himself face to face with the source of the vocalization.
Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean someone isn’t out to get you.
“Hello there... Tom DeLay.”