The Fancy Dress Party

Anyone who knows my story knows what a hassle I have not getting George W. Bush to follow me and screw up my life everywhere I go. This time, however, I thought I was in the clear. I got invited to a ceremonial costume ball in Australia, and I knew W. was busy at home dealing with the Ports scandal, wiretapping innocents, chaos in Iraq, all time low popularity, etc. He just couldn't have time to fly half-way around the world for a silly party. Feeling confident, I had my tailor make me up this ceremonial, indigenous Australian jacket. I don't what it's supposed to represent, but it looked good in a travel magazine so I said hey, let's go for it.
So I get there and you can imagine my shock and disappointment to see W. wearing the same exact outfit. He comes rushing over to me, smiling yet obviously indignant. Fortunately, I happened to have my digital voice recorder switched on for our conversation.
"Steve, what the hell yeh doin' here in mah outfit?"
"Your outfit?"
"That's what Sid said when he made it fer me. He guaranteed me I'd be the only one wearin' it, that everybody else'd be wearin' red. Which is true... except fer yerself."
"Sid fed me the same line of crap -- that SOB will do anything to make a sale. But hey, the bigger question, George, is what the hell are you doing at a costume party Down Under when you're administration is totally falling apart?"
"I beg to differ on that assessment, son. As a matter of fact I just spoke to my Vice President on the mo-bile, and he's tellin' me everything is going A-OK."
"He did, huh? And what about the polls?"
"The polls? The only polls I believe live somewhere near Romania. Heh heh. Get it?"
"Yeah I get it. Very funny. And clever, too."
"Yeah I thought so."
"But George, even the radical right is losing faith in you. What are you going to do when even those people fail to get behind you?"
"Oh don't you worry 'bout them. All I gotta do is make a speech and throw in a few hosannas and name-call a few evolutionists, and they'll fall back in line. Not the brightest bulbs in the room, them people."
"That may be true, but they're you're hardcore constituents."
"Hey, just because they vote for me don't me I gotta invite 'em over for a turkey shoot, if you know what I mean."
"I guess..."
"Speakin' of which, didja happen to spot the boo-fay?
"Over by the tent."
"Good. Flying Air Force One half-way around the world works up a hella of an appetite. And don't tell anyone I said so, but dang they show the worst movies. Heck, even I can watch Top Gun just so many times."
W. paused. He rubbed his wrist loosely, scanning the crowd idly before speaking.
"So when are you changing yer outfit?"
"I'm not."
"Well then, I guess my Secret Service boys will be seein' you out."
"You always do this."
"I know."
"It isn't fair."
"I know."
"I have my rights."
"I know. But you know what?"
"What?"
"It's good to be the king! You take care now."
And so the next thing I know I'm on a flight back to the States. This has happened so many times that I can't even get upset anymore. One day that guy's not going to be President, and then we'll see who's wearing the cat's pajamas. †