The Bushiad
Chapter 24: Mission Accomplished

The Idyossey
Chapter 1- Ichor of the Gods
Chapter 2- The Price of Peace
Chapter 3- Empyre
Chapter 4- Woeful Warrior
Chapter 5- Mitzvah
Chapter 6- News Analysis
Chapter 7- Strategic Planner
Chapter 8- Aristea
Chapter 9- Last Supper
Chapter 10- Skullduggery
Chapter 11: Family Reunion
Chapter 12- Black Goddess
Chapter 13- Saboteur
Chapter 14- Glossolalia
Chapter 15- Visitation
Chapter 16- Dead or Alive
Chapter 17- Across the Border
Chapter 18- The Unraveling
Chapter 19- Summer in the City
Chapter 20- Wolf and Jackal
Chapter 21- George Gloats
Chapter 22- Surreality
Chapter 23- Kidnapped
Chapter 24- Denouement

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Iraq overrun, its armies scatter.
Organized warfare, tank columns,
Air Force strikes, grind to a halt.
In just weeks it seems the war is won,
Saddam vanquished, regime crushed.
America’s military might prevails.

“Good job, boys!” Resolute George exalts,
“That was outstanding!” Huddled
In the war room with his coterie of
Rumsfeld, Cheney, Wolfowitz and Rove
His cherished chums. “I’d drink
A toast to victory, but as you know I can’t.”

“I’d say the mission is accomplished,”
Hard-Hearted Cheney offers, “Now
To get that Iraqi oil to the market.”
“Hear, hear,” adds Rummy, "Onward to
Halliburton!” and the gang all laughs,
Except for Karl Rove.

Deep in thought, Karl thinks media,
And already plans a photo-op event.
“Karl…you seem subdued,” asks George,
“I don’t like it when you get
That expression on your face.” Karl
Smiles, “I have plans for you my boy!”

Weeks later on May 1st the carrier
Abe Lincoln idles near San Diego.
Kept offshore for hours to improve
The camera view, the deck canted
To port for the same reason,
The crew awaits a special landing.

Two miles distant, a Navy S-3B Viking
Lumbers along the Pacific coast
Carrying three pilots, two on active duty
And the other now retired: Simple George.
Certified briefly as a pilot in the Texas
National Guard, he’s not flown since ‘69.

“Can I land it?” George asks the pilot,
Cmdr. John Custer of Orlando, Florida.
“Sorry, Sir, not in the plan,
But you can take the stick now
If you’d like.” George grabs the joystick
His hands sweat and tremble.

Like a student driver, George
Never really has full control. John
Can override everything George does
But the illusion George is flying
Is quite real. “Try a turn, sir?”
John wants to please the boss.

“Any ammo in this baby?” George
Sounds excited as they bank left.
“Maybe I can strafe some driftwood,
Abandoned boat or something!”
“No live ammo sir…level off a bit more please,"
Says John.

The Secret Service agent sitting
In the back hears the interchange
And shakes his head. He thinks George
Is a dunce, but his job is to protect him
From bodily harm, not stupidity.
“What a putz,” he thinks.

The straps wrapped round George’s
Crotch are tight. Nervous and excited
He needs to take a piss, and soon.
“How much longer till we land?”
George asks, afraid he might not
Hold it long enough.

“Just ten minutes more, Mr. President,
They want us to make a pass or two.”
“I really need to go sooner than that,”
Says George, “Can we make it in five?”
“Sorry sir, ten’s the best that I can offer.
Mr. Rove has planned the landing.”

His hands placed in his lap, George
Wishes he'd forgone that last
Cup of coffee on Air Force One.
“What’s this button here?” George stabs
A blue button and the aircraft lurches.
“What’s going on?” the backup pilot yells.

Crap, thinks John, this is not cool,
How to reprimand the Commander in Chief?
“Don’t touch that sir, I’m sorry,
Stabilizer override for heavy weather.”
He counteracts the cockpit command
And level flight resumes.

But it’s too late for George,
He’s wet his pants, feels the
Warmness spread around his crotch
And some relief as well. “Two minutes to landing,”
John announces. George thanks God and Karl Rove
For making him wear a Depends diaper.

Later, on deck, clothes changed,
Simple George exclaims, “Combat operations
Have ended; the United States and our allies
Have prevailed.” No longer outcasts, Iraq’s removed
From his rogue’s gallery of evil,
At the cost of only 171 American lives.

He thanks the valiant troops,
“’Preciate it,” he slaps their backs,
“Great job.” Above, flapping in the breeze,
Positioned precisely by Karl for the camera,
A banner, red, white and blue declares
“Mission Accomplished.”
 
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