Good Vibrations Magazine

An extraordinarily strange thing happened in Washington D.C. on February 25. Lynne Cheney, wife of our Vice-President Dick, awoke with a soft, warm feeling between her legs. She was surprised, but very happy. She pressed her thighs together and reached down to see what was going on inside her bajingo.

Lo and behold if she didn’t find there, in her hand, a circumcised penis.

Not having seen one for years, she yelped and threw it down on the bed. The penis shook its helmeted head and smacked her in the mouth with its testicle. Then it marched to the armoire, put on one of Dick Cheney’s suits, complete with American Flag lapel pin and walked out the door.

“Well,” Lynne said, “at least it was white.”

Around the same time I awoke to find my penis was missing. I checked the living room because sometimes my penis falls asleep on the couch watching porn.
The couch was empty.

I checked myself in the bathroom mirror. There was nothing but a smooth surface where my penis used to be. I was a Ken Doll.
A couple of pubes sat on the edge of the sink. Where ever my penis had gone he had shaved first.

Just then my girlfriend called. Was I watching C-Span?

“Is anyone ever watching C-Span?” I asked.

I turned on the television and was shocked. There was my penis! Testifying! As one of President Bush’s top advisors! Wearing a pastel blue tie!

“Isn’t that your penis?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “That’s a member of the Bush Administration.”

“Right, which member of the Bush Administration?”

“Well, it could be any of them, really.”

My sweetie began sobbing on the other end of the line. “I can’t believe you’re a republican,” she said and hung up.

I sat down to watch the Senate hearing dumbstruck. There was Carl Levin, reading glasses perched on the edge of his nose, asking about torture at Guantanamo Bay. And there was Trent Lott nodding his head as my penis began to answer, gesticulating with its testicles.

I couldn’t listen to anything my penis was saying, too taken by how well coiffed he appeared.

I caught the first plane to DC.

Walking past the White House I couldn’t believe my eyes. President Bush was holding a Press Conference in the Rose Garden, my penis beside him.

“I have every confidence in Biggy Johnson as my new National Security Advisor.” The Bush pointed to the Penis. “I’ve known Chubby for years and always take his council. I’ve always called him Chubby cause he starts out small but you get him riled up and he gets big I can tell ya. I hope you’ll call him Chubby too.”

Without thinking I leapt onto the black wrought iron gates and screamed, “That’s no National Security Advisor. That’s my penis.”

Secret Service ripped me down and tossed me into the gutter. I saw a pair of legs beside me. Someone had come and sat down on the curb. I looked up to find Ralph Nader there.

“Wow, what have you been doing right?” he asked.

“I’ve lost my penis,” I said.

“Have you checked The Justice Department?”

We sat there, Ralph and me, a swell pair. There wasn’t a penis between us, but I could hear Ralph’s brass balls clanking.

“I just don’t understand,” I said.

Ralph gave me a sad expression. “This town is full of beaver cleavers.

“You can’t get near the Supreme Court without an oral argument. Over at the State Department they’ve got Dongaleeza Rice. And there’s always been Dick Cheney.

“D.C.’s a strange town,” he said. “All you need is a good suit and an American Flag and even a penis can go all the way to the top.”

I wandered through our Capitol dejected. I went to The Bull and Feathers to get a drink. After a couple of whiskies I began to hear a lot of girls laughing at the far end of the bar.

I looked over to see my penis holding court. The girls were all over him. He put his testicles over their shoulders. One slipped her number in his suit pocket.

I had never had such luck with the ladies. Who knew all it would take was being more of a cock.

I went over to confront it but my penis refused to acknowledge me. It didn’t matter if it was attached to me or not, my penis did whatever it wanted. I slinked out of the bar.

You never appreciate your penis the way you do once you’ve lost it.

Washington seems to be in quite the state now. Dick Cheney is on the Senate floor decrying that there are 57 penises in the State Department. Dongaleeza Rice vehemently denies it. The Supreme Court is to hear orals next week. And President Bush just announced that on the advice of my penis we must stay in Iraq for the next 50 years. Lynne Cheney has been seen smiling everywhere she goes.

So, my fellow Americans, I warn you. With the help of my penis President Bush is trying to fuck you.