Monday, March 20, 2006

Drilling Ducks with Dick

Mud clings to my knees and elbows as I crawl on my belly  towards a duck blind on a frigid Texas morning.  I would  have made it here earlier, but the Secret Service detail insisted on making me wear forty five pounds of body armor underneath my bright orange vest for my hunting trip with the vice president.  

Blam –blam, two shots ring out just above my head and as I look up I hear the quack of a wounded duck as it plops onto the pond in front of the blind.

“That’s number 65 for the day Mr. Vice President and it’s not even seven in the morning yet,”

I recognize the voice of my friend Karl.  Ever since Karl was forced to an underground bunker at the White House, it seems that I’ve been getting less work from my favorite client for my freelance writing, the Vast Right Wing Conspiracy (VRWC).  It was Karl who got me out duck hunting for this first time in my adult life.  They set up this hunt with the vice president six months ago as a simultaneous fundraiser and serious policy discussion opportunity.  The idea had worked spectacularly with the energy taskforce several years ago who got to enjoy the thrill of killing hundreds of animals in a single afternoon with both the vice president and Justice Scalia joking about how they were making fossil fuel for future generations.  This year, however, a number of the people who had given money to hunt with Dick Cheney abruptly backed out about a month ago.  

“I told them to think of it as killing several dozen birds with one stone,” the deputy chief of staff joked, “But even that didn’t work.”

In any case, Karl figured it might embarrass the administration if they had to cancel the junket so he offered to pay me double my normal rate to go and write it up in such a way that it might improve the vice president’s current 19% approval rating, which is just ten percent below Hitler’s at the close of World War 2 but slightly higher than Andrea Yates’s.  Consider the fact that the vice-president has killed a lot more children than Andrea Yates did, the 19% is really pretty promising.

Half a dozen more shots ring out, before I hear the vice president speak for the first time, “Damn, I love the smell of dead fowl in the morning.”

Karl nods., “You’re up to seventy seven now Dick and it’s just three minutes past seven AM.”

DC:  Wow, Karl, never seen anyone who could count better than you.  My count had 45, but you must be counting the ones I shot on the ground and those little ducklings too.

DC:  Hardly seems fair to count the ducklings though.  I can off like four or five of them with just a single shot, particularly when they’re scrunched up next to their mother in the water like that.

CL:  Sorry guys, didn’t mean to throw up all over your duck blind here.  I just haven’t seen this many dead birds since Hillary gave me a tour of Tyson chicken…

Silence…followed by the sound of a shotgun being cocked.

There's a boom skyward as a mallard falls out of the air.

KR: Sorry CL, but that's one angry woman. We don't like to talk about her, especially when we're hunting. Puts the veep into a little bit of a frenzy.

CL: Look over there, isn't that the nest of the mother duck you just shot?

The vice president immediately pulls his gun away from the spot.

DC: Phew, that was a close one, nearly shot eggs.

CL: If you can shoot the mother and all the ducklings, what difference does it make if you hit a few eggs?

KR: CL do I have to remind you that this administration is pro life. We protect the rights of the unborn.

DC:  I know it looks a little disgusting, me sitting here killing all these birds like this, but you ought to know that they don’t go to waste.  The owners take the carcasses down to the local soup kitchen afterwards.  

CL:  They have a soup kitchen out here.

DC:  You bet. You know how the media never runs the positive stories.  Since this administration started, there are half again as many soup kitchens as there were in Clinton’s time.  Under Clinton, they were actually closing the things.  Now, they even have them out here in rural Texas.  How’s that for compassionate conservatism?  

CL:  You’d think at least someone like George Will would pick up on something like that.  Geez, maybe even Molly Ivins might do a column.

A dozen shots fire skywards in rapid succession followed by a hail of curse words.

CL: So, the local soup kitchen winds up with several hundred servings of birdshot pate and duck a l’orange tonight?


KR:  A few months ago, Dick had a night hunting trip around here and they got to have Canard au Phosphor Blanc?

CL:  I’m sorry, I don’t know what that is.

I’m finally standing, though I stay as close as possible to the vice president so I can track his shotgun.

KR:  That’s duck done in White Phosphorous sauce, it’s one of Dick’s creations.

DC:  Yep, you load up a couple shotgun shells with white phosphorous and you see every feathered critter in the night sky.  It’s too bad that nosy Italian paper ruined it.  Now, you can’t find white phosphorous shotgun shells anywhere in the US.  Can you imagine a duck prepared so fresh that it cooks itself before it even hits the ground?  I still might have  a couple shells left over, talk about a lunchtime treat!

CL:  Maybe another time Mr. Vice President.  I’m still feeling a little sick.

KR:  Now you might think the vice president is just shooting these birds out of pure blood lust, but what you can't see is that some of these fowl have terrorist ties.

CL: Terrorist game birds?

KR: That's right, we have reports that many of these birds right here have ties to Al Quacka.

DC: You've heard of avian flu haven't you?

CL: I've never heard of a wild duck with avian flu just chickens.

KR: Several of these ducks were tied to repeated attempts to bomb the vice president's limousine with bird dung. Fortunately we intercepted their communications and stopped it. We just never told the liberal media about it.

CL: But covering a car with bird dung is not even close to spreading avian flu.

DC: We have the evidence. The hunting dogs in this county welcomed me as a liberator.

I turn to Karl.

CL: You know I've never said this before, but this guy is nuts.

KR: It's statements like that that come perilously close to helping the enemy. It's bad enough that you have friends in PETA and adopted cats from the SPCA. I can't always protect you CL.

The vice president blows on a whistle and a dozen undocumented workers come out to pick up the dead ducks.  In the meantime, he keeps firing as more undocumented workers seem to be releasing dozens of more birds from cages just across the marshy end of the pond

KR: It's really unfortunate that America never gets to see this side of the vice presidsent, how he's a dedicated environmentalist who cleans up even after his hunting expeditions.

At one point, stray shot hits one of the workers in the arm.

W:  Sorry senor vice presidente.  I didn’t mean to embarrass you further.

DC:  Quite all right.  Apology accepted.  Sure hope you have health insurance.

W:  Well, actually no.  

DC:  Shame.  You see what a great country we have.  They don’t have health insurance in his country.

CL:  Dick.  I think he lives in our country.

He fires off several more shots as the undocumented workers scatter into the brush.

DC:  Well, you want to talk some policy.  That’s why you paid the RNC to come on this hunting trip didn’t you?

CL:  Well, actually sir, Karl’s pay….

Before I could say “Paying me” to be here, Karl had kicked me in the shin and shaken his head at me.

CL:  Well sir, why don’t you talk about whatever policy you feel like.

DC:  You know days like this I like to think about our peace plans.

CL: As in Iraq?

DC: Right.

The vice president takes a hand grenade out of his shirt and throws it at a group of ducks circling a pool of bread crumbs floating in the water.  The explosion sends up a small geyser that splashes us in the duck pond as the air fills with feathers.

KR:  I guess the folks at the soup kitchen won’t be able to eat those.

DC points his shotgun at KR’s chest.

DC:  You making fun of me Karl?

KR:  No, never. wouldn’t think of it.

DC:  You don’t think I could pull this trigger right now?  

CL: Uh, were't we talking about your peace plan for Iraq?

DC turns his gun away from Karl and shoots  more ducks.  I look down to see a pronounced wet spot in Karl’s pants as he collapses against the back of the duck blind.

DC:  Well now that the insurgency’s in its last throes.

CL:  So you don’t think it’s turning into a civil war?

DC:  Of course, it’s not a civil war.  That’s a gross exagerration, this is at least 140 years from being a Civil War.  Do you see a Gettysburg or a Shiloh,  a Monitor and Merrimack?  How can this be a civil war?

CL:  Well, I have seen a Bull Run or two in this war.

DC: Now that the insurgency’s in it s last throes.  

CL:  Is that the reason that there are now seven hundred more US troops there than there were last month and is that the reason they had that airborne assault north of Baghdad.  

DC:  They’ve captured almost forty insurgents in that campaign even though seventeen of them turned out not to be insurgents. They also captured a stash of 300 different weapons.  It’s been a major success.

KR:  Liberal media never shares the really good news about Iraq.

CL:  Isn’t the Pentagon now predicting a five to six year campaign to stabilize Iraq?

DC:  Exactly, they’re in the last throes.

CL:  Excuse me?

DC:  That’s an end date isn’t it?  You realize that the Iraqi government has met all its deadlines in the last year.

CL:  I know they met last week for thirty minutes then indefinitely postponed their next session.

DC:  That’s thirty minutes more than our Congress met during St. Patrick’s Day week.  

CL: You have a point there.

A flock of geese fly in a V overhead.  The vice president pulls out a machine gun and kills so many of them that the birds lay in stacks on the ground.

KR:  Dick, you are truly a great sportsman.

DC:  Always wanted to be on that show with Curt Gowdy.  Too bad he’s passed.Talk about your great reality tv.

KR: You know Dick, if America could just see you like this today, they’d see how serious you are about peace in Iraq and our precious freedoms under the second amendment.

DC takes a break from shooting and reaches into an ice chest on the other side of the duck blind and brings out a seventy two ounce can of beer.

DC:  Thought I’d start on my one beer at lunch a little early today Chancelucky: The Schrodinger Presidency.  All this hunting made me a little thirsty.

CL:  For beer or blood?

Both men look at me quizzically and the VP offers Karl and me cans of our own.

KR:  Maybe a quarter can for me.  I’m very careful not to drink more than that when I hunt.  You think 237 ducks in one morning is enough?

DC:  Time to knock off for lunch. Hey Chancelucky, you think that John Kerry would ever have the guts to shoot 237 ducks in a single morning?  
I shake my head.
KR: NRA member my ass.
They giggle.

DC: Enough for me today,my trigger finger’s a little sore, got to keep it fresh in case they have to give me the football again.

As I head out of the duck blind I almost bump my head on the opening to the outside.

CL:  Mr. Vice-President be sure to duck on your way out.

I’ve never been shot in the butt before and I suppose it was my fault.  After watching the vice president hunt this morning, I should have known about his quick reflexes and clear judgment when it comes to firearms.  I hope he visits me in the hospital a few days from now and I’m already writing my letter of apology to him for the media.  It truly was an honor to spend the morning learning how you can be pro gun and pro life all at the same time. I still remember Dick's last words to me that morning.

DC: Please CL, we don't have to tell the President about this or the press.

I have to say that he sounded awfully "Desperate".



At 3/26/2006 02:47:00 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Ye cartoon gawds, cl, you have outdone yourself! This is certainly the funniest piece you have ever penned & my favorite of the Darth Dick post-2/11 pieces anywhere.

Now that we're in a post-2/11 world, satyrizing Dick and co-bird-killer & beer swiller Pamela Willeford, rich Ambassadress to Switzerland where no doubt Icky Dicky keeps his vast Halliburton fortunes overflow is the only note you missed in a symphony of much better-aim-than-Dick shots at the creepy Veep.

Hurray indeed!

At 3/26/2006 07:09:00 PM, Blogger Chancelucky said...

Mr. Pogblog,
many thanks for your kind comments. I'd used some of your horror about Dick's pheasant massacres as a take off point for this so I'm glad that you read it and liked it.

One thing about blogging is that you don't have direct contact with any of your readers, so you often don't know if they found anything funny, interesting, etc.

I still have no idea, for instance, if anyone's ever read my script for Rambo 4 though it gets a lot of hits.

Rambo 4 Secret Script


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