Sleeping with the Enema

Sleeping with the Enema


The President of the United States, the Leader of the Free World, or the Antichrist as some people affectionately called him, really didn't think it was a good idea to visit Florida in the middle of a Hurricane. I mean, come on, he thought. It's not like I can do anything! And Jeb's here anyway.

It wouldn't be so bad, but he had to take the helicopter and the reception in there sucked. Thank God he had all of the episodes of Punk'd on tape. He put on his favorite trucker hat and opened a bag of pork rinds, as he settled into his seat. There was something about Ashton Kutchner, something that just made the commander in chief want to strip him naked, bend him over a desk and give the boy a good whippin' until he was begging for...

"Sir?" One of the Secret Service Guys asked snapping him out of his fantasy. The tall, somberly dressed agent had been sitting up front with the pilot and the rest of the security contingent. He looked worried. Even though George though of himself as a people person, he could never remember anyone's names, so he called all of his security detail either Larry, Curly, or Moe depending on the mood.
"What is it Larry?"
The agent looked a little disconcerted. "Uh, I thought I was Moe sir."
"Moe? Now that's crazy talk. You're obviously Larry."
"Yes. Obviously." The agent stared at him for a moment, shook his head, and continued. "Anyway, it looks like the hurricane is going to hit so we will have to land. There's a secret bunker left over from the cold war, and should be adequate to weather out the storm."
"Does it have a television?"
Unfortunately, it didn't have television so he had to settle for his second favorite pastime: sleeping. While the pilot and his 3 Secret Service agents explored the facility, the president stretched out in one of the bedrooms and got some much-needed shuteye.

He woke up to voices. He recognized Larry (or was it Curly...he could never tell), but there was a snooty voice answering him. It was vaguely familiar, so he got up and walked out of the room to see what all of the fuss was about.
Standing right across from his door was his starched rival John Kerry flanked by his own Larry, Curly, and Moe's. Wait, he also had a Shem! The uppity bastard!
"What the hell are you doin' here?" The President asked.
"Same thing as you. Trying to wait out the storm." They glared at each other for a moment, trying to figure which one would back down. The President finally broke eye contact; partly because he forgot to keep looking, and partly because he thought his nemegis had beautiful eyes.
"Hell, I'm hungry. What have we got to eat around here?" Bush asked weakly.

There was a kitchen, of course, and the man who would be president and the man who was president, sat down across from each other at the table while the secret service agents ran for cover. They ate spam, Vienna sausage, and polished off a bag of pork rinds the president brought from the helicopter. Their conversation started out polite enough, but it degenerated rather quickly.
"You know, I thought I would never eat spam again after doing two terms of duty in Vietnam. We ate it all of the time on the boat...but I guess you wouldn't know anything about that." John Kerry smirked.
"I am sick and tired of you throwing that in my face. Plenty of folks served their country in the guard."
"'Served?' Showing up once or twice between coke binges isn't what I would call serving."
"At least I didn't fake a purple heart just so I could run for office!" Bush's whole face was red, including the tips of his ears.
"Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? I took a bullet for one of my men. What would you know about that."
I know that if I had gone I would have stuck to my guns, and stayed the course until there were no more evildoers. You, on the other hand, are an enema of of the state. All you ever do is pancake."
" Enema? What the... Do you mean enemy? And I think the term is waffle, you half-wit!"
"I'll waffle you!" He lunged at the Senator from Massachusetts, and it took all of the 7 stooges to pull them apart.


After the fight, they retreated to their seperate corners in opposite sides of the bunker. Senator John Kerry tried to get some sleep, but he was too riled up. He sat on the bed and looked around the small concrete room. The walls were grey, and the only other furniture besides the bed was a metal military cabinet with a mirror. He stood up and looked at his reflection, trying to remember when exactly he got old. An impressive face had become an ancient one, and the election was taking in its toll with puffy eyes and new wrinkles around the mouth. If he became president, he would probably look like Methuselah after four years. Which just pissed him off more.
It shouldn't even be an "if." The current president was an idiot. English was Bush' second language: the first, gibberish. But he was still leading in the polls. Even though he knew he was a masterful "closer" (just ask that little shit Howard Dean) he still he felt out of sorts.
There was something about the president though, something that you made you want to trust him. Maybe it was because he was so stupid. It was kind of attractive, and he thought vaguely of how the president looked at him earlier.
Filled with nervous energy, he rifled through the cabinet, and found a few bottles of tequila. Obviously, one of the officers figured if it was the end of the world, he might as well get fucked up. He was sure the tee-totaling president wouldn't indulge, but he figured what the hell...just one more way to get on Bush's nerves.
He left his room and went to the kitchen where he found the Secret Service men playing cards.
"Let's get drunk."


The President woke up with a little gasp. After the fight he returned to his room and went back to bed. He dreamt about Asthon Kutchner at first, but the young star kept changing into a fucking Massachusetts liberal whenever things started to get good. And it wasn't always Teddy.
He liked to think his new orientation stemmed from horniness and fear. When George became president, Laura said she was done with having sex. Well, she didn't actually say it: Sex with her had always been a chore, but the last time he coaxed her into a b.j. she showed him just how much she hated doing her wifely duties. After the stitches came out he decided to keep his willie as far away from her as possible.
When he told his mother about it (not the details) she said some women just aren't into doing it. But he was still horny. Right when they were deciding if they should invade Iraq, Cheney started feeling the president up whenever they were alone. Bush was reluctant to start a war, but he was really sick of Cheney starting hand jobs and not finishing them. As soon as he made the speech announcing they were going into Iraq he got the best blow job of his life! Then it was over: no amount of pleading would get the v.p. back under his desk. And people actually thought the war had something to do with oil!
As these thoughts drifted through his sleep-fogged mind, he realized he was hearing music. He got up and went to the kitchen to see what the commotion was.

"It's gettin' hot in here...so take of all your clothes..." John Kerry was on the table singing at the top of his lungs to the Nelly song...and he was stripping off his dress shirt. The president pinched himself to see if he was dreaming.
"I was like...good gracious ass is bodacious" John Kerry continued as he shook his rump in Moe's face. Moe slapped it encouragingly. Bush couldn't help but shiver a little: it was a bodacious ass.
"What the heck is going on here?" The president shouted once he got himself under control.
"Here sir, have a shot!" Larry said, pouring tequila in the glass and handing it to the President.
"You know I don't drink since I found Jesus." Bush said.
"Funny how you can find a man who's been dead for 2-thousand years, and Bin Laden is still at large!" Kerry roared in laughter, and the 7 stooges and the pilot joined him.
"Shut up. It's not funny." The president said petulantly. Anyway, Bin Laden was in Crawford,Texas so there. Kerry jumped off of the table and went to where George stood in the door.
"Don't be like that, Bushie. Here, have a shot with me. It's not like I'm asking you to fuck me or anything" Where did that come from, Kerry thought.
Bush turned redder than a chili pepper and pinched himself again; just to be sure this wasn't a dream.
"Okay, whatever."
"Let's play a drinking game..." Kerry said with a raised eyebrow. "Called, name the world leader"
"No." Bush said.
"What, are you yella'!" Kerry said.
After Bush drank his 10th shot, Kerry wanted to take pity on the poor man. He even got Tony Blair's name wrong. Their secret service agents and the pilot were passed out under the kitchen table, cuddled up like a bunch of kittens, and it was apparent the President was about to join them.
"I need a drink!" Kerry shouted. There was one shot left in the bottle, along with the worm.
"Mr. President, would you like to do the honors?"
"No you go ahead." Kerry threw back the bottle and suddenly the commander in chief was kissing him full on the lips! Shocked, he gave up the worm to the president who promptly swallowed.
"On second thought, I think I need some luck right about now" Bush said with a leer Kerry felt the heat of his gaze, and blushed a little.
"Well that was the last of the tequila so we can't play anymore anyway." Kerry said when he could finally speak. "But let's play a new game...name the state governors."
"What happens if I can't?" Bush asked with a sexy smirk.
"Hmm...I'll think of something."

Bush woke up to a pounding skull. He smelled tequila, and realized he had been drinking. And there seemed to be something lying across his chest. It was an arm. That woke him up a little more: he hoped it wasn't Laura back to finish the job. But after a few strokes, he realized it had too much hair to be Laura's. He followed it from wrist to elbow, to shoulder, and finally chest. Yup. Definitely a man, he thought. He touched the hair, and it seemed familiar. He heard a cultured, New England voice in his mind saying some incredibly raunchy things.
"Fuck!" He sat upright and tried to ignore the pain in his head...and in other places as well.
"Wha'" Kerry mumbled.
The president let out a high-pitched scream of terror. Kerry turned over and saw his naked nemesis and joined him in the primal howl. The two Larrys, the two Curlys, the two Moes, and Shem rushed in guns blazing just as it was winding down, and screamed themselves when they saw the president and the senator in bed together, surrounded by condom wrappers. It went on in a constant loop until the Pilot arrived.
"Uh, you guys!" He shouted. Luckily, the agents were blocking the door, so he couldn't see inside or else they may have never gotten out of the bunker. "The hurricane is over. We can leave." He shouted over the din. The agents backed out and closed the door.
"What the fuck guys?" The pilot asked after everyone stopped weeping and whimpering, "my eyes, my eyes!"
"You don't want to know.' Larry said.
"Yeah, I wish there was a way to get it out of mind" Curly said on the verge of hysteria again.
"I'm gay, and the thought of of that...I might never have sex again" Moe said, and shuddered.


Kerry pulled himself together a little quicker than the president and smiled to himself smugly as he prepared to leave the bunker. He'd thoroughly enjoyed having the president at his mercy. No matter what happened during the election, he would always remember asking the bent over and spread open president "Whose your daddy?" and Bush replying, "You are! You are!" Ahh...life is good.

As for The scourge of evildoers, the prophet of democracy, the commander in chief, he was walking a bit stiffly when he got to the helicopter. He hoped there were pillows onboard. The terror was gone, and he couldn't get this lazy smile off of his face as he remembered the events of the previous evening. Kerry was so masterful...4 times over. Who knew losing could be so sweet.