P.C. Man: "Ah'll need ta borrow the tahm machine this evening, son.''
Gore Man: "But, Dad... I mean, Mr. President..."
P.C. Man: "Don't call me that when we're in costume; it's mah secret identity!"
Gore Man: "Sorry, P.C."
P.C. Man: "That's better."
Gore Man: "Anyway, I planned to use it myself. I need to go back and change a few things in Tennessee to make sure I win the 2000 election."
P.C. Man: "Well, you'll have to do it later. Right now I have a date with some Native Americans."
Gore Man: "Um, I trust you mean a meeting, not an actual, er, date?"
P.C. Man: "Why, Gore Man, whatever do you mean?"
Gore Man: "None of them are named Monica, I trust?"
P.C. Man: "Oh, ha ha. No, Ah've learned mah lesson, son. The last thing Ah need is a lawsuit before Ah'm even born!"
Gore Man: "OK, here are the keys. Remember the round one runs it and the square one opens the trunk."
P.C. Man: "Kind of backwards to what Ah'm used to with a Ford."
Gore Man: "I thought I had a better idea."
P.C. Man: "OK. Ah'll have it back by midnight."
Narrator: And with a shimmering effect disquietingly like a thousand points of light, the machine with the costumed leader of the free world disappears. Gore Man stares thoughtfully at the spot, shrugs, sits down at the President's desk, and lights a cigar.
Gore Man: "Ptui! Man this thing stinks. Now I remember why I don't smoke!"
Narrator: Gore Man tosses the cigar into a trash can, leans back in the President's chair, puts his feet up on the desk, and goes to sleep. Meanwhile, in the first of a series of peace talks, P. C. Man has gone far into the nation's history to treat with the Native Americans.
P.C. Man: "And so, to sum up, the white man will be coming through here with guns and industry and iron horses and computers and stuff no matter what you do, so you maht as well sign this peace treaty and move onto this other piece of land."
Chief: "We have been told white man speak with forked tongue. How we know you keep promises, Great White Chief?"
P.C. Man: "Normally Ah'd swear on a stack of Bibles, or a box of Lewinsky enhanced cigars, but Ah know that don't mean a thing to you folks. What's your most sacred vow?"
Chief: "We become blood brothers."
P.C. Man: "Ah'm not sure all mah shots are up to date. That could be pretty rough on you, Chief. What's your second most sacred vow?"
Chief: "We smoke peace pipe."
P.C. Man: "No cigars?"
Chief: "Ugh. Those stink. I give up smoking, first."
P.C. Man: "You just need to get one of your sweet, young ladies to roll 'em around under her armpits first."
Chief: "You make fun of maidens?"
P.C. Man: "Nevermind. Let's smoke that pipe, then sahn this treaty. Ah got some other nations to visit tonight."
P.C. Man: "How."
Chief: "No, I mean how you do that? Time machine move in time, not in space."
P.C. Man: "Oh, when the inventor wasn't looking, Ah had the army..."
Chief: "Watch your language."
P.C. Man: "...Sorry. Ah had some military advisors and a couple of technical experts beef it up. Now it has the capabililty ta skeedaddle across the landscape faster than a scared rabbit."
NArrator: And so, P. C. Man and the various Chiefs of the various tribal nations siged treaties and smoked peace pipes for days on end, until every last tribe had its own, completely safe reservation, guaranteed to be left alone by the white man. His mission accomplished, P. C. Man set the controls of the time machine to "return to origin", and dropped right into the midst of mayhem in the Oval Office. In a hail of bullets, amidst a cloud of smoke, he immediately slapped the emergency unreturn lever, and was back in the Black Hills in the 1800s. The natives were already riding away, so he made some minor adjustments and returned an hour later to his office.
P.C. Man: "Gore Man! Wake up!"
Gore Man: "I am awake. What a nightmare. I kept seeing a thousand points of light when the time machine appeared."
P.C. Man: "What happened an hour ago? What's that smokey smell?"
Gore Man: "Oh, um, someone started a fire in your wastebasket with a cigar. While the Secret Service and the Fire department were in here, you tried to drop back in. The Service, of course, doesn't know about the time machine, thought you were an invader, and opend fire. That's why I decided to sleep here til you got back, to make sure there was no more, um, monkey business."
P.C. Man: "Well, Ah appreciate it. Here, look at these." (sounds of rustling parchment)
Gore Man: "Ah. The treaties. I invented these, you know. Hmmm. Yada yada yada, hey! Wait a minute! These all promise the tribes that they would have their reservations in perpetuity, that they'd get only the best lands, and that they'd be unmolested by the white man. It even says you smoked the peace pipe to seal the vows. But we all know from history that's not the way it worked! They were nearly wiped out, and reduced to land nobody else wanted!"
P.C. Man: "That's right. So?"
Gore Man: "But you performed their second most sacred vow! You smoked the peace pipe with them!"
P.C. Man: "Gore Man, you should know better. I never inhaled..."
Copyright 2001 Miles O'Neal, Austin, TX. All rights reserved. Miles O'Neal <roadkills.r.us@XYZZY.gmail.com> [remove the "XYZZY." to make things work!] c/o RNN / 1705 Oak Forest Dr / Round Rock, TX / 78681-1514