Thought Theater

'Twas The Night Before Fitzmas? genre: Polispeak & Rhyme-N-Reason & Tongue-In-Cheek

‘Twas the night before Fitzmas, and all through D.C.
The Senate stood empty, just waiting to see.
The Grand Jury listened to Fitz with much care,
He hoped that the votes all would be there.

Ken Mehlman and Rover all snug in their beds,
While visions of November danced in their heads,
And Dick in his bunker, as “W" did sip,
A drink from the flask he poured through his lips.

When out at the Post arose such a clatter,
They sprung from their cubes to see what was the matter.
Away to the phones they flew like a flash,
Called up their sources who asked for some cash.

The Times of New York had the lights all aglow,
As they savored the scuttle they knew soon would flow.
When, what to their wondering eyes should appear,
But a signature sheet with twelve names written so clear.

With Old Crow in his throat, George W then spits,
He knew in an instant it must be the Fitz.
More rapid he guzzled, his Party might lose,
So he bristled and shouted while chugging his booze.

Now Karl! First Libby!
Damn Fitz you vixen!
Lost Browny then Scotty!
Who else are you fixin’
To topple from power!
We’re takin’ a lickin!
Now damn Fitzy, damn you!
Damn you this hour!

If not for those levees and Katrina’s wrath,
Dear God, why all these obstacles, who chose her path?
You live in the big house, but the White House is blue,
What else can go wrong, will Dick Cheney go too?

And then in a tantrum, he ran to the roof,
The stomping and kicking of each little hoof.
As he pulled out his hair and was turning around,
Up through the hatch big Barbara came with a bound.

In blue robe with white dots, from her head to her toes,
Yes her clothes were old fashioned, but everyone knows.
A bag of buckshot she held in her hand,
Then she told him that Karl could not take the stand.

His jaw how it twitched, his chin to and fro,
His cheeks were like roses, his nose white from blow!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
She pulled on his ear…you’re back on the snow!
The shaft of a pen he held tight in his fist,
And the smoke it encircled, man was he pissed.
He made a mad face, then reached for the lead,
He shook it and scowled, I wish he were dead.

Righteous and pompous, a nasty old soul,
She slapped him and said, pull Cheney from the hole.
A wink of his eye and a grin on his face,
Soon Fitz he would show that he should stay in his place.

He spoke not a word but went straight to his work,
And filled all the shotguns, then turned with a jerk,
And with shaking fingers, he dialed the phone,
Dick Cheney I need you, he said with a groan.

Dick called for his chopper, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim as he flew out of sight,

Happy Fitzmas to all and we’ll get him tonight!