The crowd is hush.

On one side of the House sits the Democrats, their black-gloved fists held high in the air and their heads down in protest. Many even sport bandanas blindfolding them, driving their protest home for the fools and idiots watching on CNN and CNBC. Two Democrats whisper as they get into a slapping match, both cowering in fear as Senator Ted Kennedy barrels into them, knocking them both to the floor. Senator John Kerry sits among the other Democrats, reading a Latin instruction book and drinking Vermouth.

On the other side, a few dozen Republicans shoulder their M-16s, flip them, and present. The weapons glisten as NRA Chairman Charleston Heston inspects the Junior Senators in the back, correcting posture and whispering threats that would kill lesser men. In one corner, the glass coffin holding the preserved corpse of Orrin Hatch stands. In another, a shadowy man in a large hat, Jack Abramoff, lights a cigarette. He puts down his suitcase, right next to the waiting Senator John McCain. Abramoff and McCain share a nod.

Vice President Dick Cheney takes off his hunting cap, puts down his rifle, and stands at his podium. “Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States.”

The doors open, and the mob crushes around it. The President’s security team clears the way. The President emerges, wearing his favorite fedora. He walks forward, along the aisle. Nobody can touch him.

Senator Hillary Clinton bumps fists with Senator Barrack Obama and turn away from the podium, their hands grasped together in the air. McCain and Senator Joe Lieberman stand and salute the man as he passes.

President George W Bush smiles, generously, taking off the hat. He stands at the podium, his features flush and healthy, beaming. His face conceals all the secrets we want to know, but he gives away nothing. He begins:

“My fellow Americans. Tonight, I address you with a heavy heart. Since our invasion of Iraq and subsequent planning went so well, I have come here to announce that American soldiers are at this minute beginning a full-forced invasion of Iran. The kingdom of Iran has for too long stood for oppression and hatred against America. Today, that ends. They’re going down.”

The Republicans let loose a hail of gunfire into the air. The smoke clears as the tiny particles fall from above, the groans of a weak and ancient ceiling. Kennedy flips off the President, who ignores the whole ruckus. Kerry looks up from his studying, stuttering through “Give… peace… a chance…” He falls asleep, bored by his own excessive chatter.

Bush continues. “But we’ve got to think beyond Iran. Now that we have the Iraqi oilfields safely under our control, we can pump a little more money into this country.” A few loud boos echo from the back of the House. “No, I hear you,” says the Master, reassuringly. “I’m giving that money back to this country. I’m eliminating taxes entirely. No more taxes, ever!”

The House erupts. “Never!” “Finally!” “Wait, how do I pay for my golf trips?”

“Veto this!” Out of nowhere, Representative Nancy Pelosi grabs Cheney’s gavel and slams it down on the President’s head.

“Oh, doh,” he retorts, eloquently. His eyes go up into the back of his head, and he collapses onto the floor.

A hail of gunfire from the Junior Republicans fly past Pelosi as she dives to the Congress floor, hoping for protection. The coward Democrats all run from their leader, and a few of their heads fall off as they squawk like chickens.

Suddenly, flames leap from the giant flag hanging behind the fallen President. At its base, John Edwards laughs maniacally as he holds up a lighter. Cheney grabs his shotgun, utters a few choice words for mixed company, and shoots Edwards twice in the chest. Seeing this, Kerry raises his hand, as if to say something, but nothing comes out.

The flames on the flag grow higher as the Junior Republicans begin to fire into the ceiling again, pouncing on top of their Democratic rivals and rubbing their faces into the floor.

A giant crack is heard. The burning flag falls to the ground, knocking Cheney on the head. The main door bursts open… The Swiss military marches in, with halberds and full armor.

The Swiss Captain steps forward and stabs the fleeing Abramoff through the stomach with a sword. “I claim this land, in the name of the glorious Republic of Switzerland!”

A large piece of the ceiling falls to the ground, right next to the ailing Abramoff. The sun pierces through, hitting the former lobbyist. He turns to dust in the Swiss Captain’s arms.

The entire ceiling falls on Congress, the Senate, the Representatives, the President, and the Swiss, burying them for all time and eternity.

I wake up. What a good dream.