16 - The Tragedy of Bushius Caesar Act 5 Scene 2

                               
                     Alarum. Enter Cheneyus and Scooterus

Cheneyus:          Ride, ride, o Scootie, ride, and take this bill
                         Unto our legions gathered on the Hill, 
                         That they prepare and ready our defence,
                         And not sit growing fat in indolence.
                         O, Scooterus, ride on like Paul Revere!
                       
                                                             Exit Scooterus
                                         
                               Alarums, excursions, sennet. Enter Caesar

Caesar:              It’s me again! The Bushie Caesar’s here.

Cheneyus:          ‘Oh my God! They killed Kenny! You bastards!’
                          He's back again, as welcome as are cows’ turds
                          He doth fore’er return, as Rummie said
                          To rain on my parade, back from the dead.

Will S.:               The Bushie Frankenstein once more kidnaps
                          Act 5, scene 2, the theme, the plot. Perhaps
                          As he doth sow destruction, havoc, mayhem,
                          They say if you can't beat them then just join 'em,
                          Perhaps, O Coach, let us out-Frankenstein
                          The Bushie Frankenstein, let us define
                          With lines anew the text that he's hijacked,
                          Give to his role the form that it has lacked
                          Since he returns unbidden to the stage
                          On auto-pilot. Here, take this new page.

                                             He hands a sheaf of papers to Caesar 

Caesar:              O good! Officially I'm reinstated
                          To play my part, my smirks and swaggers slated
                          Once more to grace the scene. Now let me read
                          My lines anew highlighted in this screed.
                          Err. Thus thou plott'st to burp me…

Will S.:                                                                   That’s usurp me,
                          Thou mewling scut!

Cheneyus:                                         Kiss my codpiece, bum-bailey!

Caesar:               O Chenie, slut, why evil did’st thou do?

Cheneyus:           To be the President, zounds, in name, too.

Caesar:               I am Swift Boat for Truth, I’ll sink your boat,
                          I’ll tell the Congress that I learned by rote
                          Each lie, each hype on WMDs,
                          From thee, and on mobile laborat’ries,
                          And bull on Saddam-Al Qaeda links,
                          From thee alone. If I smell, then you stinks.

Grammarian:      That’s ‘stink,’ illit’rate whore’s melt!   

Cheneyus:                                                                    Bushie dear,
[twists mouth      You judge me wrong; now come, lend me your ear.
ever more           I’ll get you re-instated as the Pres
slyly]                   If you just come and do all that I says.

Grammarian:      O Gawd, he’s got the Bushies. Save my verbs!

Cheneyus:          But first let’s leave these Washington suburbs
                          And go to Texas on the hunting trail.
                          Hee hee! That you and I go shooting quail.
                         ‘Tis an experience you won’t forget.
                         Just ask old Harry Whittington. I bet
                         He’ll vouch for me; his polka-dotted face
                         Bears witness to my shooting; in first place
                         Came I with multi-buckshot, giving pause
                         To those who doubt the worth of our star wars
                         Missile defences. South of Corpus Christi
                         At Kath'rine Armstrong's ranch he was so pissed, he
                         grabbed at his holed face and groaned a lot.
[aside]               For Bushie I'll use nucular buckshot
                         And end for ever all his foul intrusions
                         With radioactive lead bullet infusions
[to Caesar]        Come, Bushie, you'll have fun, just ask Armstrong!

Caesar:             Thy twisted gob warns not to trust thy song.
                         Now render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s…

Writing C.:          Nay, that verse, Bush, is not the bardic geezer’s.

Will S.:              Indeed. I wrote not that. He doth adlib

Caesar:             Yo Mama is so fat she ...

Will S.:                                                     He doth crib
                         It from the Gospel Matthew twenty-two.
                                                       
Caesar:             Then tell me, smart arse, what would Jesus do?

Cheneyus:         Thou snub’st my offer, then go to perdition!  

Caesar:              I’ll hit you first, then, with extreme rendition,
                         I’ll send you shackled to the Saudis’ lands
                         Where they’ll chop off your head, your ears, your glans.
                                          
                                          Alarums, excursions. Enter sponsor 2

Sponsor 2:         It standeth not? Dysfunction erectile?
                         Viagra’s blues will soon restore thy smile.
                         Thy glans will swell; to stiffest stiff from bland
                         Grow thou thy member for an all-night stand.
     
                                           Exit sponsor 2

Caesar:              I just staged an erection in Eye-rak.

Will S.:              Ye gods preserve us! Stop the play!

Writing C.:                                                              Hold back!
                         The show, it must go on. That is the rule!

Cheneyus:          Think’st thou to stop me now, thou skunk-brained fool?
                          Rank piece of snail’s smegma, feet of clay!

Caesar:              In insults I can beat you any day
                         Yo mama is so fat, her double chins…
                       
                                    Alarums, excursions. Enter sponsor 2

Sponsor 2:        To stay in shape, eat Kotex ultra thins!
                       
                               Alarums, Exursions. Writing coach jumps up and down, breathless

Writing C.:        Nay, nay, o fool, thou errest! That’s Wheat Thins!

Sponsor 2:         O oopslet! Poxlet! Here the page did slip:
                         Use Maxi Pad thins with absorbent strip
                         For feminine protection.

Writing C.:                                            Ah, thou’rt right,
                         The Wheat Thins ad is for tomorrow night.
                       
                                               Exit sponsor 2

Cheneyus:         My obloquy, vile cur, and brickbats shall
                         Foil your illit’rate momas…
                       
                                           Alarums, excursions. Enter sponsor 1

Sponsor 1:                                                    Think ye Hall-
                        -iburton oil, for that’s the name ‘f the game,
                         Both lit’rate and illit’rate, ‘t is the same,
                         At Hal’s we’re letter-blind. It is the dough
                         That we do seek and crave for and love so.

    
                                                        Exit Sponsor 1

Caesar:              Shall foil? Your evil plots I've e'en now foiled,
                          The ambushes you thought were so well-oiled...

                                           Enter Sponsor 1
                         
 Sponsor 1:         Did I hear oil?

Will S.:                                       You've had your say. Get out!
                           You overstay bought ad-time, saucy lout.
                           Enough now! Writing coach, let's give them hell,
                           Or else our play's finale we'll ne'er tell. 
                       
                         Ruckus, screams, shouts. Exeunt omnes
                                                   in whirling scrum of flailing limbs