Annan Powers - International Man of Mediocrity - in "You Only Invade Twice." (Part VI of -6-6

Discuss this on our boards!

Annan Powers - International Man of Mediocrity - in "You Only
Invade Twice." (Part VI of -6-6 - the number of the Beast)
by J. Edward Tremlett, Columnist

October 14, 2002

"Down On the rANT Farm"

J. Edward Tremlett (In our last installment, Dr. George's plans to go after Saddam Hussein for building Weapons of Mass Destruction has UN Chief Annan Powers on the way to Baghdad to deal with it - not to mention double-double agent Rat Bastard. But there's trouble at home, too, as failed candidate Al Bore has been raised from the dead to oppose Dr. George's plans...)

* * *

PART VI: AL Bore's Devilish Dinner!

(Cut to: The opening of Mötley Crüe's "Shout at the Devil" is heard. The camera zooms over the landscape, heading for Al Bore's sprawling, Tennessee mansion. An open window leads to a palatial dining room, where the Bore family has dressed up and assembled for dinner.

(Tripper Bore and the various Disposable Bore Children sit at a long table. At the head sits Al Bore: back from the dead, looking really awful and wearing an AC/DC t-shirt. Placed before him, instead of a plate, is a covered, fast-food bucket. It says "Bucket O' Pooch")

Tripper: Now kids, this is our first real family meal with your dad back, so let's make this a nice evening, okay?

DBC #1: Mom, he's dead.

Tripper: Darling, eat your food.

DBC #2: But he smells bad.

Tripper: That's just the formaldehyde curdling.

Al: (deep, grave-like voice) Actually, it's brimstone. And you mind your manners, young man.

DBC #3: Ahhhhh! It talked!

Al: Yes. It did. And you can all thank your Lord and Master (his left arm shoots up to make the Sign of the Devil) SATAN!!!

(Bulbs burst in the chandelier. A Ming vase implodes)

Tripper: Honey... I thought we agreed not to say His name? We just had the place redecorated.

Al: Oh. Sorry. Ha. Ha. Ha.

Tripper: Now kids... it's the same old Al you all knew and called "dad" in front of the TV cameras. Can't we just pretend it's like old times?

DBC #4: But, like, I just totally got all over him dying in the first place, and now he's, like, back? This is like double major trauma in my young life. How am I supposed to cope?

Tripper: Well, I tell you what... why don't you write down what you really feel like, and I'll put it in a chapter in my next book? Wouldn't that be swell?

DBC #4: I feel like shooting myself, mom.

Tripper: Okay... just be sure to wait until we get closer to 2004. Your dad might get a few percentage points out of it!

(Stark silence, punctuated by the occasional giggle from Tripper.)

(Al takes the cover off the bucket, revealing that it's full of dead puppies. He proceeds to shove them in his mouth, one by one)

DBC #1: Oh. My. God...

Tripper: Your father has special dietary needs, now, dearie.

Al: Grarr... schlorp... blarp... thrahp... munch... munch.... munch... (spits a paw across the table)

DBC #3: But he's eating PUPPIES!!!

Tripper: Now now, honey, let's not be too culturally imperialistic about this. They do the same thing in Korea, you know. (nods)

Al: You know *schlop* there's more than enough to go around *chew* *munch* if you kids want some...?

(Al offers one to the nearest DBC. They all scream in unison and run out of the room.)

Tripper: Heh heh heh. Kids these days.

Al: Ha. Ha. Ha. I say we eat them, next.

Tripper: Oh, don't worry, honey... they'll come around. Besides, if we eat them now we won't get our tax credits.

Al: It'd be worth every penny.

Tripper: And we could throw one of them in front of a car again, in case we start slipping in the polls.

Al: After all this that won't really matter.

Tripper: So - what's the plan?

Al: *coughs* Well. You see -

Tripper: Honey? Short sentences. Small words. Remember?

Al: Oh. Right. Okay. (winks)

Tripper: Goodie (winks back)

Al: (punctuating each word with hand gestures and head movements) I oppose. The war. The liberal press. Eats it up. The American public. Obey. Nothing is done.

Tripper: OoOoOoOooooo. And then?

Al: Saddam waits. For a signal. Then. He uses his. W. M. Ds. On us -

Tripper: On us? Why not Israel?

Al: No one. Would really. Care.

Tripper: Oh, good point!

Al: We attack. Iraq. Then. When they have. More. W. M. Ds. Other arab. States. Attack. Us. Before long. We use. Our. W. M. Ds. The world. Is lit. On fire. And then. Everyone. Dies. Screaming.

Tripper: Sounds great. So how are we going to use that for your campaign?

Al: (blinks. really. slowly) Honey... there isn't going to BE. A campaign. In 2000. And 4. I'm talking. About the end. Of the world.

Tripper: Oh?

Al: Armageddon. Our Lord. And Master - (his left arm shoots up and he grabs it with his right)

Tripper: Yes?

Al: He. Um. Ufh. (struggling) He sent me. Back. To bring. About. The apocalypse.

Tripper: He did?

Al: (finally gets his hand back down) Yes... honey... he did.

Tripper: Oh. Okay. (giggles)

Al: Is that... really okay. With you?

Tripper: Sure! Just let me know about when it's going to happen so I can schedule a last shopping trip.

Al: Ha. Ha. Ha. That's my Tripper.

Tripper: Oh Al (gets up and sits down on his lap) You're such a macho dude.

Al: Yeah... that's what all the guys said.

Tripper: Really?

Al: Yes indeed. They said I was the best go-go dancer they'd had down there since J. Edgar Hoover.

Tripper: Oh... heh heh. Really. Well! I bet they're sorry you're gone.

Al: Don't worry. We'll be back there. Real soon. (puts his arms around her)

Tripper: Are you sure this is going to work? I hear that Annan Powers has gotten involved.

Al: Oh. Well. Don't you worry. He's flying into a little trap. Even now...

(Al grins wider than his face should allow)

***

(To be continued ...)

J. Edward Tremlett is a published author, political thinker and self-described "mean-spirited crank." He lives with his wife and two cats in Dubai, United Arab Emirates.

Photo of J. Edward Tremlett courtesy of staff files
Image courtesy of the author