MAXIMUM R

How's it going with Jambi, boys? You manage to soften the little blue boy up any? I sure could have used some wishes this weekend...

He turned down the offer to be Secretary of Wishes, as you well know. That was kind of a stunner. I mean, who in their right mind turns down Secretary of Wishes... He said it sounded like a made up position...

Well, it was, Karl. But we could have made it happen. Surely the congress would have supported me on that.

I don't know, Sir. Maybe, maybe... But we would have had to explain all about Jambi, and that's not the way this administration works. It's a National Security issue. Before you know it, everybody would have wanted wishes of their own. And I'll be dead and in hell before I ever let Hillary Clinton get a wish out of our Genie.

He's not our Genie yet, Karl. First he's got to agree to work with us. Any luck with the weekend at Gitmo, Dick?

Negatori, George. This SOB seems impervious to pain. Nothing worked. We'd threaten him with dogs, and he would turn himself into a hydrant. Weird, kinky stuff like that. We tried waterboarding and he turned himself into an oil slick. Really obscure magic that you wouldn't dream of in a million years.

Did you try the panties on the head trick?

Of course we did, George. What do you think we are, a bunch of rank amateurs? The panties on the head trick almost always works. But not with Jambi. He just started to... I'm sorry. I'm not going to describe this in front of Ms Witherspoon.

Thank you for not sharing.

Oh, like I ever get that sort of consideration.

But you're one of the boys, Condi. You just have bigger, uh... responsibilities.

That's not the worst of it, boss. Now Jambi is refusing to even look like a Genie until we work out a deal with him. He's even lost his blue glow. He's starting to look a lot like Ed Platt.

Help me out, Karl

The chief, chief. From 'Get Smart'.

The chief chief? I don't need your insults, Turd Blossom. I guess you don't remember who brought you to this dance.

Your daddy?

All right, Rummy. Get your pistol. I've had about enough from four-eyes here.

No, George, no. We can still squeeze a little usefulness out of the Rovester's ass yet. I feel that Jambi is nearly ready to bargain with us.

OK, Rummy. Bring him on.

Oh, Jambi, master of the mysteries of magic, appear unto me now.

What is it, Max?

Whoa. Whoa. I got it. I got it. Reese, Reese, help me out, sweetheart. I mean, honey- pie... no, no no no, I'm all confused. What is the proper salutation in a predicament like this?

Sweetheart will be fine, Mister President. I think that you need to ask Jambi what he would require in order to work with you. Did you ever think of that?

No.

Fuck Jambi.

A weird, yet enticing concept, Miss Witherspoon. Just what do you suggest?

I suggest that the president and Jambi get beneath the Cone of Silence immediately. My goodness, what could be more valuable in the war on terror than a wish every day? Except for Friday, Saturday and Sunday. And government holidays. And of course vacation days. And sick days.

Oops. Do I sound like a Jambi surrogate? Sorry.

Okay, Karl. Lower the cone of silence.

Show me your powers, Jambi!

Not yet. First you must prove to me that you will deal with me as an equal.

And first you gotta show me that you really were blue.

You don't believe me?

Fraid not.

Done.

Whoa!

And now we must mind meld, my little president.

No way. Uh uh. Get outta here, peckerwood. Ow, Jayzus, my brain hurt's bad. Groomph. Groomph. Anybody here got a pen knife? Ouch. My cerebellum. It's on fire.

Mwahahahaha. You have the plastic food bowl on your head, and I have the Ruby of Hermideeze on mine!

Gosh. I sure wish I could hear what's going on in that Cone of Silence.

I can get your security clearance upgraded by tomorrow afternoon, Miss Witherspoon.

Thank you.

Shut up, Rove. Can't you see that your president is having his brains literally sucked out of his head while we are speaking?

Yiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii.

Correcto mondi, Vice President Cheney...I was just thinking... calling you by your title, you know, it seems like an extraordinarily awkward way to address you. I mean, why don't I just call you Dick? I see you every day.

Because I hate every fiber of your essence, you blubbering ninny.

Aaaiiiyyyyeeeeeeeeeeehhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!

(to be continued)