King Arthur consulted Merlin one day when he was feeling a bit insecure. He said, "Will my name live on? Will I be remembered by posterity?"

Merlin rolled his eyes, scrunched up his face, groaned dramatically, and dropped some kind of vile-smelling potion into a flaming brazier. He gazed intently into the roiling clouds of blue smoke that burst forth.

"Yea and nay," he said at length.

King Arthur looked puzzled. "Could you elaborate on that?" he queried.

"Many, many people will remember your name for a thousand years and more," quoth Merlin gravely, "but...."

"But?"

There will be a cynical knave in the...let me see....the 20th to early 21st centuries...about 1500 years from now...and this aforesaid knave will not believe that you even existed! He will, of course, have heard of you, I might add. No one, however ignorant and witless, will not have heard of you." Merlin wiped his hands off on his robe with a look of disgust and dismissal.

"What?" Arthur burst out. "Not believe I ever existed? Why, that...that detestable, that insentient, shambling, chuckleheaded, unbelieving varlet! Why, if he were here I would strike his head off this instant, disembowel him, and cast his stinking remains to the carrion birds." He paced back and forth in a royal fury, his face dark with anger.

"Yes," agreed Merlin, "So should I. It is very insulting. Unforgivable, really. Still, the fellow is beyond our reach."

"What is this scum-sucker's name?" raged Arthur.

Merlin rolled his eyes back again, sighed deeply...

"Bill Dee," he said.

"Bill Dee????? What sort of stupid peasant's name is that? Why, I know what I'll do! I'll find all the people with the family name 'Dee', and I'll have them put to the sword! I will finish this disrespectful bastard 1,000 years before his rightful time. He shall never be born!"

Arthur rushed off and summoned his knights and his army. They were quite busy for the next couple of months, riding all around the realm, and it was a very, very bad time for anyone with the surname 'Dee' ...which, oddly enough, means "die" in the Scots dialect. How appropriate!

Arthur returned in September, having to the best of his knowledge exterminated all the Dees, far and wide. Not a Dee that had not died hideously. Several score 'Deas' had died as well, along with some unfortunate fellow named 'Willy Die', and all was well in the kingdom.

Again he consulted Merlin. Again the spell was cast. When it was over, Merlin looked very grim.

"You missed him somehow," he said, shaking his head. "He's still there. I mean, he will be. And he hasn't changed his unbelief a whit. I mean, he won't then, if you follow me."

Arthur flew into a raving fit, and yelled and screamed for a while. Merlin waited it out. Then he said, "No doubt the varlet is descended from a family of Dees in some distant land, far beyond our realm. This could be harder than tracking down the Holy Grail. It could waste the strength of the Round Table and make us a laughing stock if we fail."

"What do you recommend?" snarled Arthur, grinding his teeth in impotent fury.

"We can't get him now," said Merlin, "but what about the future?"

"What about it, then?" said Arthur. "We can do nothing about it that I can see, if we can't find his forefathers now."

"Oh, yes we can," said Merlin, his eyes flashing. "I have a spell most profound and terrible, but it can only be worked after your death."

"What good does that do me?" protested Arthur petulantly. "A fine wizard you are! I should find another, I'm thinking."

Merlin smiled cunningly. "You don't follow my meaning. Everyone dies, yes? Well, someday you shall, and all shall mourn, but ON THAT DAY........!"

"On that day?"

"On that day I shall work a dread and terrible spell. Are you aware that men's souls are born again? And again? In new bodies? And some women too...I think....possibly...at any rate, I shall arrange by dark magic to steer your soul unerringly into a new life in the time of Bill Dee. When the time is right, you shall suddenly become aware of who you truly are...ARTHUR...LORD OF CAMELOT...MASTER OF DEADLY WEAPONS! You shall procure said weapons, sword and shield, dagger and spear, throttling string and head-crushing mace...and you shall go forth like an arrow to its mark, find this wretch, Bill Dee, and expunge him brutally and finally from the fair face of the globe. Then you shall restore Camelot on the throne of a great new land, called "Theeyewessay". You shall fly a banner of war named "Old Gory" and strike fear and trembling into heathens and unbelievers all across the entire world! Thus shall the glory of Arthur live on and be greater than before!"

Arthur's eyes blazed. "How will I know when the time is right?"

"You'll know," said Merlin, offhandedly. "Trust me. You just will. And your kingly abilities shall by then have naturally delivered you straight to the throne of leadership, so none shall question your absolute authority to do as you see fit."

"Excellent!" thundered Arthur, striking his fist on the table. "Do it then! When I die!"

And so it was done...

********************************

March 2006: The White House - in the Oval Office -

President George W. Bush, "Dubya" for short, was feeling weary. He had spent a happy hour or two playing "Bush Shoot-out" on Miniclip.com, but the game was beggining to lose its appeal. Kicking ass onscreen just wasn't doing it for him anymore, and Iraq was not going very well either. His popularity rating had never been lower. It was downright discouraging.

George W. sighed, put his head down on his arms and took a little nap. He dreamed he was back in Texas, managing the baseball team. He began to smile...

When suddenly Condi Rice stepped in. "Mr President? George? Mr President?"

George W.'s head jerked up. He looked around for a moment in what appeared to be confusion and astonishment. His icy blue eyes steadied, and fixed on Condi. She stepped back in momentary surprise...there was a steely look in Dubya's eyes that she could not recall ever having seen before.

"Mr President? Is...is something wrong? Did you have a bad dream?"

George W. looked slowly around the room. It was all coming clear. He could see both realities now. He could see the strange weaving of destiny which had taken him from business failures and personal failures to a place beyond failure...and then the mysterious hand of the Lord guiding him past all that to the shining command of a mighty kingdom, a kingdom 1,000 times greater than Camelot at its height, a kingdom with mastery of the Earth, the sea, the sky, and even the heavens!

This dark serpent woman was one he could trust, ruthless, and ambitious. But he could not tell her all he knew. It was too soon for that.

"I need a sword," he said.

"What???" said Condi, her jaw dropping.

"I said I need a sword. A big one. Make it one o' them medee-evil swords like in 'Braveheart'. You know. And get me a shield. And a big mace. And a long dagger with a hilt. And a length of nylon fishing line...20 pound test line."

"The fishing line I can get," said Condi, "but I'm not sure about the other stuff. All they have is those Jedi light sabers at Walmart."

"Hell, get it at the Smithsonian then. I don't care where you get it, just get me the real thing. I got a little job to do on the weekend. And one more thing...."

"Get military intelligence and the IRS on the phone. Have 'em do an Internet Search for a name. 'Bill Dee'. Find this Bill Dee. Track him down. Smoke him out. Then give me the address where he lives."

"Consider it done," said Condi. "How do you spell the name 'Dee'?"

"How the hell should I know? Spell it every way possible. D-E-E, D-E-A, D-E-I, D-I-E, D-E-Y...hell, even try it as just the initial 'D', but find me this man!"

"Don't you worry, George, we'll find him," vowed Condi. "Can you tell me what this is about?"

"Well...let's just say...it's about belief! Belief, Condoleeza. A man is nothin' without belief, and a country is nothin' without belief. Belief is what gives us our strength, and sustains our freedoms, and makes us what we are...Americans! Defenders of the Faith!"

George W./Arthur gazed grimly into the eyes of his Secretary of State, and she felt a thrill shiver down her spine. Those were the icy blue eyes of command, as she had never seen in Dubya before. The shit was definitely going to hit the fan.

"This man, 'Bill Dee', he doesn't believe, Condi. I'm gonna make that sucker believe! Just find him for me. Just find him. And then," he concluded, with a little smirk, "Me and the Sixth Fleet and the 101st Airborne are goin' to the Holy Land, and we are gonna kick some Iranian ASS!"

Condi exited the room with fire in her eyes, and George W. took a slow deep breath of satisfaction. 1500 years! 1500 years his soul had waited for this moment. That sex maniac Kennedy...they had called his term in office "Camelot". That was a joke. Him and that other sex maniac, Clinton. Well, they were both gone now. Gone for good. And the real Camelot was about to be born again. This time it would last a thousand years.

He went back to the presidential desk, sat down, and drew a little stick figure on his scribble pad. He put a smily face on its head, said, "Hi, Bill Dee!" and grinned at it. Then he savagely drew an "X" across the face, crumpled up the piece of paper in his fist, and took it over to the gas fireplace. He half unfolded the paper again, looked at it one more time, and dropped it into the flames. As it caught fire and began to blacken and shrivel he grinned, waved at it, and chirped, "Bye, bye, Bill Dee! Don't ferget to write!"