Lord Vetinari, Meet George Dubya
By: Twist
A/n: I promised this a long time ago but alas, I was delayed by writers' block. However, I remembered my promise at lunch today and, lo and behold, sat down and started to type. Hehe, this was just a fun little thing, please review and give me feedback, sequels and improvements are possible. =)
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It was a normal day in the White House. Relatively normal, anyway. The President of the United States was currently standing in front of a mirror cursing himself for ever deciding to eat pretzels. President George W. Bush's normal day was soon to be interrupted, however, by a fanfic author with extraordinary powers. That would be me, people.
It was also a normal day in Ankh-Morpork, or as normal as days ever get there. Lord Vetinari was doing his thing in his office with all of the papers; Gods know what they really are. His day was also about to be interrupted by yours' truly in a most unusual way. So was Captain Carrot's, but that's a very different matter.
George Dubya was sitting in a meeting trying very hard indeed to look interested. The vice president whose name I cannot spell was not there, for some odd reason. He was supposed to be. But all that mattered now was what the football league was up to. And where the next ballistic pretzel would come from. (a/n: I find the pretzel thing hilarious, I'm sorry)
"And so," said one unimportant minion, finally finishing his speech. George was about ready to stand up and do the Presidential handshake, when a swirly and rather pretty blue vortex appeared underneath his seat and sucked him in. As one would imagine, this was blamed on terrorists and chaos ensued, but that's not part of the story yet, is it now?
Lord Vetinari also fell victim to a swirly vortex, though in this case, curiosity killed the cat. Or sucked it in, anyway. Captain Carrot was also sucked into the magical fanfic author vortex while chasing a criminal. While Carrot may have just been walking leisurely and talking happily to the unfortunate victim of his own crime, we shall call it a chase for the sake of the story.
"Ah," said a mysterious voice when Captain Carrot landed on his bottom on the comfortable blue cushions in the Amazing Fanifc Room. "It appears we are all present and accounted for." The speaker was, naturally, me, myself, and Guinea. But Guinea was just standing there, so she really isn't that important.
"Where am I?" asked George. It was incredibly clichéd question, but that was overlooked by Guinea the grammar nut. "And who are these other people?"
"I would ask the same of you," said Vetinari evenly, "if the question were not so overused and was more pressing."
"Who is he?" George asked, rather disturbed by his Lordship.
"Introductions are coming, please show patience. First of all, I am Twist, but I rather think Havelock there knows that. Pixie Stix, anyone?" I asked. "No? Not even Havelock? My, that really must have traumatized you, poor thing. Anywho, this person next to me is Guinea. She is one of my henchwomen, and a rather intelligent one with that. But only in the field of mathematics, or so I wished. But I digress . . ."
"You have a serious personality disorder," Vetinari muttered. "One day you're all hyper and now you're all serious and that's rather disturbing, to tell the truth."
"Silence, mortal!" Guinea exclaimed. She gave Vetinari a death glare. "Else I shall call Lord Voldemort, and the only thing you can do then is bow to him!" All three of the men stared.
"Moving on," I said, looking rather sharply at Guinea. "Your President-ness, this here is Havelock Vetinari, Patrician of Ankh-Morpork and dude you really don't want to screw around with. That there is Captain Carrot Ironfoundersson, Captain in the Ankh-Morpork City watch and temporary vice-prez of the US of A."
"That's Dick Cheny!" Bush exclaimed. "What happened to Dick?"
Dick Cheny was standing in a rather old-fashioned tailor shop in a city he was pretty sure he'd never heard of before. The people spoke an odd language that he'd never heard spoken anywhere before and there were rocks walking around. The tailor was examining his suit and muttering in supposed awe to himself. No one was wearing a suit like Dick's, and the money was made of solid gold. He decided, however to let things go and let the insane little tailor go about his business of learning about the wonders of Armani.
"Mr. Cheny has been . . . indisposed," I said. "Not hurt or killed, but moved temporarily." Bush stared. "Never mind, sir-ness. Anyway, I believe you have not been introduced. Havelock, Captain, George 'Dubya' Bush, Patrician of Ankh-Morpork." I grinned in a rather evil way.
"One can't help thinking that I have missed something," Vetinari said, eyeing Bush. "Last I checked, and that would be about five minutes ago, I was the Patrician and the US of A did not exist."
"Ah, but see here, that is where your excellence is wrong. I have been put up to the challenge by myself to switch the two of you. I believe the results will be muy comical." A man appeared suddenly, looking rather flustered. "Ah, and here is my history teacher now! Mr. M, would you be so kind as to grant me a favor? I need these two men to be up to date on the history of America in a rather small space of time, say a half of an hour. Can you do it?" I peered at him over the top of my fake glasses, savoring the power.
"I believe so," he said. "Why do they need to know? And how much?"
"The reason they need to know is no business of yours, but they do need to know enough to convince the American people that they are the president and vice-president, respectively."
"Ah. American history and current events, then."
"Whatever floats your boat, sir. If your Lordship and Carrot would kindly go with Mr. M there, I would be much obliged. As for you, George, Guinea and I will fill you in on the history of the wonderful cities of Ankh and Morpork."
Half an hour later we congregated in the middle of the room, Dubya looking nervous and Carrot and Vetinari looking rather shell-shocked. Mr. M was grinning proudly. Guinea and I were trying not to laugh.
"Alright, we will now clothe you appropriately and provide you with the proper equipment. This mission will last for three days. I hope you're up to it."
"Do I have to be married?" Lord Vetinari asked, swaying slightly and looking slightly dazed. Please say no."
"Heh, I believe you will have to pretend to be married to Mrs. Laura Bush for the time period, yes." I raised my voice over the anguished screams. "A little magic will have to be used and we have employed several people to ensure that it is stable while this fanfi- er, mission is under way. Please meet Archancellor Mustrum Ridcully, Madam Esmerelda 'Granny' Weatherwax, Mr. Anthony J. Crowley, and – um – Aziraphale."
"What in the blazes?!" Bush screamed. "Awesome Dude, come help me!" That cute dog from Saturday Night Live appeared in the room.
"Nope, Georgie, I like Awesome Dude more than you. He stays with me," Guinea said.
"Who the hell are these people?!" Bush asked, slightly panicked.
"Well, Ridcully's a wizard and Granny's a witch and Crowley's a demon and 'Zira's an angel. Mustrum and Granny'll be taking care of you and Crowley and 'Zira'll be taking care of his Lordship, newly wed, and Carrot."
"I don't want to be married!" Lord Vetinari protested. He then began beating himself methodically with a cushion.
"Ready?" I asked. "To you positions, men."
"I'm married, dammit! I don't even know the woman! This is a big step for me in my personal life!"
"Shut up."
"What have I ever done to you?!"
"Get off the floor, Havelock, you'll ruin your suit."
"Fine! But I get Awesome Dude!"
"Alright." I forced Guinea to hand over the ridiculously adorable mutt to Havelock. "And from now on, Havelock, your first name is Joseph." As the anguished screams died away, I turned to Guinea and grinned. "Ten bucks on Havelock."
"Fifteen on Dubya."
"You're on."
A/n: And so begins the first chapter. I personally think it could be better, but I'm not the reviewer, now am I? So! *claps hands and grins* To you positions! Please let me know what you think. 5 good reviews = chapter 2. 5 bad reviews = my own website where I can post all of my bad fics! Well, maybe not. Adobe and I can't agree. But I will get my own website one day! Anyway, talk to me people, and I'll give you what you ask for! I only aim to please. =)
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing except for myself and the fanfic room! pTerry/ Neil Gaiman own almost all of the characters, the US Senate owns George and Awesome Dude belongs to SNL or Havelock/ Joe at this point.