George and Dick: A Worthy Vice
George closed the heavy oaken door of his office and turned to face his ever faithful friend and business partner, Richard.
"Dick, things'z lookin' pretty rough right now, I don't think Congress is none too pleased with us." George slowly, with arms slumped, shuffled across the room like a man thirty years older…almost like a broken version of his father.
"Georgey," Dick softly intoned, lips curled into his characteristic half-sneer, "We can make it through this, don't worry. We have a sizable minority left, now don't forget that. Besides, the surveillance program has given us quite a bit of precious dirt on some of our fiercest foes in the Senate…" he paused, looking thoughtful yet stern, "George, remember, how do you make a tiger blink?"
George slumped into his chair, gripped his head with tense hands, and emitted a few groaning, suppressed sobs.
"Dick I am not in the mood fer one of yer Chinese riddles right now!"
"George…calm down." A wrinkled, leathery, yet firm and warm hand pressed down insistently upon George's. The President looked up with a smile.
"You make a tiger blink by throwing sand in its eyes."
"That's right. Good boy, you're finally learning. A tiger can appear unstoppable, but don't forget you can throw it off and save your hide by throwing some dirt in the cat's face as it charges you…or you can distract it with a sacrificial lamb…"
The two old friends eyed each other with a laughing smirk. "RUMSFELD!" they cried out in jubilation, moments before their lips locked in a tight presidential seal of approval.
