Early May 2006: The White House - in the Oval Office - 3 PM

George W. Bush, the reincarnated spirit of King Arthur, now embodied in a lean Texas-tanned frame, had been in a foul mood for weeks. He fumed and paced and snapped at the secret service men when they dared to stick their heads in the Oval Office. His popularity was in the toilet bowl, his attack on Iran had been put on hold again, and Bill Dee had not yet been found!

"Goddamit!" he fumed. "Here I am in the greatest country on Earth, with a modern surveillance system, with Homeland Security, with the FBI, the CIA, Military Intelligence, Spy Satellites, Stealth Bombers, Nukular Weapons comin' out the ying yang, and NOBODY can find one lousy, stinkin', unbelieving son of a bitch named Bill Dee in the whole damn nation!!! I'm so mad I could nuke Massachussetts! How damn hard can it be to find one goddamn son of a bitch who doesn't believe in King Arthur? How hard can it be????"

His ravings were interrupted by Condoleeza Rice, who entered the room silently, clutching a file folder.

"I told you not to come back till you found him..." growled George W., glowering at her. "Don't tell me you haven't found him."

"We have found him," replied Condi, triumphantly. "Take a look at this!"

George W. siezed the file folder eagerly and ripped it open, spreading the papers out on his desk. Here it was at last! The elusive wretch had finally been smoked out, after over a month of fruitless searching through IRS records and every other source of information conceivable.

"He's on an obscure Interent site called...'Mudcat Cafe'," said Condi.

"I see that," said George W., licking his lips like a hungry wolf. "My gosh! That sonovabitch doesn't even have a proper last name, just the initial "D". No wonder he was so damn hard to find."

"It's a nickname of some kind," said Condi, "but get this: that whole site is absolutely full of liberal/radical subversives of the lunatic left...with the exception of a handful of patriots and loyal Americans. You wouldn't believe the hatred that spews forth from these scum against you, against America, against freedom..."

"Oh, I'd believe it, Condi, I'd believe it," said George W. grimly. "There are a lot of sworn enemies of America out there and they're like bad apples...you find one, you find a whole barrelful. Then there are the gay-lovers, the limp-wristed appeasers of evil and those types too, and they hang out together, Condi, and plot evil!"

His eyes lit with a messianic gleam. "I knew it! I knew when we found this here 'Bill D' it would just be the tip of the whole rotten, stinkin' iceberg of dissent that menaces the survival of America! This here Bill D scumbag has led us to the motherlode of traitors who must be dealt with ruthlessly and finally..." he ran his fingers lovingly along the edge of the "terrible swift" sword that he had been practicing with for weeks now in readiness to lop off Bill D's head when he tracked him down.

"I think you should take a good look at this." Condi indicated an aerial photograph of a suburban neighborhood. "This is where he lives."

"I see." George W. gazed intently at the photo. "Where is that neighborhood?"

"We're...still not quite sure...it could be in any one of about...." She hesitated under the icy glare of her commander-in-chief.

"...about 350 different communities somewhere between California and...New Jersey. But," she hastily added, "we're almost dead sure he's in the Midwest somewhere."

"WHATTTTT????" thundered George W. "What are you tellin' me? You call this 'FINDING' a man???? I want to know EXACTLY where he is! And I want to know it by tomorrow! Now get OUT!!!" He took a mighty swing at Condoleeza with the sword, which would have decapitated her if not for a very quick dodge on her part. She fled the office, slamming the door behind her. As it shut it received a hurled battleax from George W. which stood quivering in its center panel. A good thing that door was made of strong stuff!

"Un-be-f*cking-lievable!" roared George W. to the four walls and whoever was unlucky enough to be in earshot. "When I was king in Camelot I executed thousands for less than this! I didn't have to put up with pissant excuses and whiny 'Oh, well, we're not sure just where he is right now...' No! I rode forth and I conquered! I pillaged and burned and no one dared stop me! Bill D! I know you're out there, you unbelieving pig! I know you don't believe in King Arthur and you don't believe in me or the USA either! Well, Mr liberal, atheistic, limp-wristed, traiterous, mouth-breathin' lowlife filth, I am gonna find you, and then, mister, you are gonna bite the 'big one', cross the Great Divide, kiss the ground, kick the bucket, and DIE!"

"6 weeks I have delayed the assault on Eye-ran because of this loser! Six weeks! Oh my, mister Bill D, you are goin' to pay for that. Oh, my, yes, indeedy."

Outside in the hall it was very quiet. In the military intelligence labs not far away they were poring over that grainy photo, taken from the link off that obscure internet forum called Mudcat Cafe. There had to be a way of narrowing the search down to a specific street in a specific town...there just had to be. Time was running out.