SCENE: The Oval Office. GW Bush hunched over the enormous desk,
glasses on, pen in hand, brow wrinkled in concentration; seemingly
dealing with Affairs of State of huge importance....
ENTER CONDOLEEEZZA RICE, without knocking:

:CRurgently: Meessa Presidonk! Meessa Presidonk Suh!! De Rushians! De..

INCONGRUOUSLY, Bush's face goes beet-red as he looks up, a furtive and
anguished expression of panic fleets across his wily, rat-like eyes..
then (just as quickly) he seizes up a document for close inspection,
thus covering his face..

GW(behind the paper): What is it Condi? Don't you knock? What is it?
What?

:CR: MEESSA PRESIDONK! MEESSA PRESIDONK!!

GW: don't call me that

:But SUH! MEESSSA PRESIDONK!! DE RUSH..

GW: don't call me that!

:Yessuh sorree suh. Sorreeee..

A *THUD* IS HEARD, AND, FROM UNDER THE DESK, SOMEONE LOUDLY UTTERS THE
EPITHET: "Damn!"

:CR: "HAI! AI!! WHATTI!! WHATTI??"

HUGELY COMPOSED, THE URBANE Richard Perle emerges from under the desk,
brushing at his lapel.

RP: I dropped my pen what of it? What of it, eh? Condi?

:CR: No no no no i jiz sked! you sked me Massa Pell! I sked! De Presidonk..

GW(still behind the document): don't call me that.

Bewildered, CR finds herself staring at the paper behind which the
President is ensconced. She stares blankly at a procession of crudely
drawn, clumsy stick-figures and rude, awkward letters denoting their
identities. Suddenly she sees a roughly drawn oval with a circle as
head and four sticks projecting underneath..

:CR: Spottie! Is Spottie Meesa Presidonk? Spottie!

RP: Don't call him that. I say, Condi, did you know, when you raise your head like that, I can see your brain?

GW giggles at the joke, squirming deliciously in the chair (that
showed her!); then lowering the paper and turning it around...

GW:excited: Yes, it's spotty and there's dada, an' mommeee, an'

RP: Shut up George!

GW: Right! (I knew that)

:CR: BUT MEESSA PRESIDONK!! DE RUSHIA..

RP: SHUT UP CONDI!!!

:CR: yessuh massah Pell suh. I sorree. I so sorreeeeee