[BEGIN TRANSCRIPT]

AHMAD CHALABI: Mr. President.

THE PRESIDENT: Ayep.

AHMAD CHALABI: Thank you for taking the time to see me.

THE PRESIDENT: Well, I have a couple spare minutes...

AHMAD CHALABI: Again, thank you.

THE PRESIDENT: ...and Condi and Dick and everybody is all "Why won't you see him?" "He misses you." And "It's been a long time – maybe he's changed."

AHMAD CHALABI: I have. I do miss you, Mr. President.

THE PRESIDENT: Oh, no! Don't you try and sweet talk me. This Iraqgate stuff is all YOUR fault. You lied to me.

AHMAD CHALABI: Sir? I'm afraid I don't know what you mean.

THE PRESIDENT: Talk to the hand, camel breath. I totally remember that meeting where you made up all that stuff about nukular-anthrax-tipped intercontinental ballistic missiles pointed at Houston and Dollywood. And how American troops would be welcomed with open legs by throngs of super-hot Iraqazoid sluts throwing flowers and panties like they were front row at a Tom Jones gig. That stuff. Ring a bell?

Get the GODLY New Book!

AHMAD CHALABI: I remember the meeting you speak of, sir, but if you'll recall, these things were spoken not by myself, but by Mr. Wolfowitz and Mr. Cheney. I was merely the obsequious cockroach who nodded and said, "Whatever words you speak, my Neocon Puppermasters, I shall happily regurgitate publicly, just so long as you spell my name correctly on the seven-figure treasury checks."

THE PRESIDENT: Are you sure about that? I coulda sworn it was you...

AHMAD CHALABI: Yes sir, I am. And then if you'll recall, you then immediately said something to the effect of, "Good, now that we've got this greasy sand nigger on payroll, I can finally kick off my plot to take my revenge on—"

THE PRESIDENT: "Take my revenge on SADDAM HUSSEIN!!" Oh yeah, now it's all coming back to me. And then I finally got to launch my daddy's boy war. Right?

AHMAD CHALABI: Yes, sir. So you see, Mr. President, anything I did, I did for us. For you. If I had not tweaked a fact here, fluffed a lie there, I would have technically been in breach of contract.

THE PRESIDENT: Well... damn. If that's the case, then I guess I owe you an apology for setting you up as an Iranian spy in retaliation for making me look like a total retard. I guess I really did that to myself, huh?

AHMAD CHALABI: I'm afraid so, Mr. President, sir.

THE PRESIDENT: Well then please believe me when I say I'm real sorry about that. I mean really – speaking straight from the heart as one pathological liar slimeball to another.

AHMAD CHALABI: Thank you, sir. That means a great deal to me. So may I ask of you a favor that will further my monomaniacal quest for power?

THE PRESIDENT: Hell, no! You see, officially, you're still dead to me. Until I need you again, that is.

AHMAD CHALABI: I see. So...

THE PRESIDENT: Uh-huh.

AHMAD CHALABI: Awkward...this is awkward...

THE PRESIDENT: Maybe for you. Not for me. I got my groove back a while ago. Had a make-over and everything – new cowboy boots, little hair frosting, a Brazilian banana wax that the missus L-O-V-E-S. I'm only meeting you right now because I need closure.

AHMAD CHALABI: We can start over, you know?

THE PRESIDENT: I'd rather slather myself with shoe polish and book a long weekend at one of our secret torture chambers, ironically located throughout the old Soviet Union.

AHMAD CHALABI: Very well, sir, though I confess to being saddened, inasmuch as we still have much work to accomplish in Iraq. We are at the start of a new era of FREEDOM^® there, and—

THE PRESIDENT: Ah Christ, Ahmad. Don't lay that FREEDOM^® bullshit on me. I invented it, after all.

You know plenty well that I don't give a damn about any "new era" in Iraq. And neither do you. How long until you siphon enough cash out of that desert cesspool to move your lardass to Miami, anyways? Just never forget that you and me are exactly the same: we want all that filthy, mustachioed A-rab trash perpetually teetering on the verge of anarchy, cuz that's when guys like us start singing "Ka-Ching!

AHMAD CHALABI: You weren't always this... frank.

THE PRESIDENT: Newsflash: election's over, fatboy! I've spent the last five years trying real hard to almost-barely hide my contempt for foreigners. No more.

AHMAD CHALABI: Sigh.

THE PRESIDENT: I have to go, Ahmad.

AHMAD CHALABI: I look forward to having your Administration foot the bill for rebuilding my country.

THE PRESIDENT: Well you're in luck, because that's what Halliburton wants, too.

AHMAD CHALABI: Very well, but know that as my power grows in Iraq, you will one day soon be compelled to once again show me the respect I so pathologically crave.

THE PRESIDENT: Hey Ahmad – do you know how to tell apart a regular ol' car and a car packed with explosives?

AHMAD CHALABI: No. I do not.

THE PRESIDENT: Neither do I. Maybe that could a new hobby for you.

Security! Show my good ex-pal-and-co-conspirator the door.

[END TRANSCRIPT]

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