|
 Aaaiiiyyyyeeeeeeeeeeehhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!! |
 Oh
my gosh. |
 Quick!
Lift the cone of silence! Something has gone terribly awry! |
 |
 Mister
President! Mister President! Are you okay? |
 The
president is a-okay. |
 No
I'm not! Karl! Look over here, you bonehead! It's me. And I sure as heck
ain't okay. |
|
President
Jambi. I'm so sure. |
|
Secret
Service! Secret Service! Secret Service! Secret Service! Secret... |
 Did
someone call for help? |
|
Just
a little roughhousing, boys. But thank you so very much for your concern. |
 George...
you sound positively gay. |
|
He's
not George, Rummy! I am. The George is me! |
|
How
droll. Now if you'll pardon us, O Exalted One, I would like to talk to Reese
and my staff about our beloved ally, Sumatra. |
|
But
I... I thought we were talking about how to get Jambi to start granting us
wishes. |
 Grrrrr...
I smell a rat. |
|
I'm
not Jambi! Listen - I'm George Bush and this message was approved by me.
Come on, ask me something. Ask me who my father was. |
|
As
you can see, it's really quite hopeless. I suggest that we send this
particular Genie back to Pee-wee's Playhouse. Preferably C.O.D. |
|
Okay,
I've got an idea. I'm going to ask them both a question. This is for the one
that looks like Jambi. Where is Osama bin Laden hiding? |
|
How
in the blazes am I supposed to know? |
|
Okay.
One who looks like President Bush - same question. |
|
Osama?
He's the same place he's been for the past four years. Zig-zagging across
the Pakistan-Afghanistan border, hiding in the mountains with the local
rebels. Let's see... right now he's in a little town called Chitra, about
37.6 kilometers from the Chinese border. In a hidden apartment, at a
restaurant by the name of al-Kimitra's Kabob Kafe. Trap door is underneath a
purple rug by the cash register. |
|
Good
heavens, do you know what this means? |
|
We've
got a magical president! |
    |
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Uh,
fellas... |
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