The Day George Bush Met Procrustes

[Lautremont]

One day, George Bush was strolling along a dusty back road in Texas. He was getting very tired, for it was hard work! Far away, a horse whinneyed, and the sound carried across the stone-pitted plain to George Bush. He cried out and looked around fearfully.

But the horse was many leagues distant, and was in any case separated from George Bush by a sturdy crossbar fence. Bush breathed a sigh of relief. "Close one, heh heh," he muttered to himself.

But still he was tired and sleepy, and his legs and buttocks hurt! Up ahead on the right there was a small, spooky house. The door and window frames, eaves and even mullions were made of hideous, fleshy vines, gnarled and twisted. They seemed to be moving, writhing like worms along the edges of the house.

Maybe there would be a bed in there! George Bush smiled his vacuous, dead-eyed smile and said to himself "Whoo-eee! Put out the catch-barrel, mama, 'cause Junior's gone a-streakin'!" He made a bee-line for the little cabin.

When he reached it, he knocked smartly on the door as his mother and father had taught him to do. After a moment he could hear footsteps. They were heavy and scary! The door opened, and Bush looked up from his shoes to see... He gasped! Why, it was Procrustes! "My gosh! Procrustes!" he cried.

Procrustes motioned George Bush to come in. Terrified beyond the capacity for reason, Bush complied. Procrustes stopped in the middle of the room and turned towards the trembling civil servant. "I command you to lie in my bed," boomed the hideous, troll-like Procrustes. He stepped aside, and George Bush, seeing what was revealed, befouled his garments.

It was a bed of great length, and George Bush knew, from his pursuit into the study of ancient Greek myth, that Procrustes was a sadistic wayfarer prone to stretching or, in some cases, shrinking by amputation his guests to fit his special magical bed. And now he, George Bush, was the prisoner of Procrustes and must submit to his unholy will!

The process of stretching began.

The End

[hfojvt]

1. The Greek Gods have issued a statement

"We do not torture."

[Lautremont]

2. Exactly - they farm it out like the Shrub Administration does.

[Hugin]

3. All I can say...

He's lucky it isn't a waterbed.

Ain't it a fact. :rofl:

[Lautremont]

4. Boot for Procrustes. (One only.)