George W. was up bright and early the next day, practicing vicious sword swings and ax tosses. He was puzzled by his awkwardness with the flail, however. An unwary swing of that deadly little tool had nearly taken his own head off a couple of times! It was unsettling. He remembered handling the flail beautifully in his previous life as King Arthur, and smashing poor people's brains out with it, but something had changed. Handling the damn thing now was almost as tricky as eating pretzels! Well, it would take time to reacquaint his nervous system with the use of all these handheld weapons, being as he was in a whole new body and all...

The flail and various other cool medieval weapons...

He was all puffed out when Condoleeza Rice knocked and entered. He noted that she had a large handgun tucked in her belt.

"What you packin' the heat for, Condi," he inquired, with a grin. "You expectin' terrrorists or somethin'?"

"I'll be frank, Mr President," she replied cooly. "The next time you swing that damn sword at me I am going to blow your head clean off. We've been working damn hard to find that Bill D character, and I've had about all I can take at this point."

George W. glared at her. Why...the nerve! This was tantamount to open revolution. He gave her "the look". She gave it right back. They stared each other down for about 30 seconds, and George W. blinked. He realized that it was quite possible she meant what she said. Hmmm. Time to backpedal a bit here...

"Why, Condi," he grinned, "I was just foolin' around there with the sword...you know I like to play with weapons. Just a little bit of fun there, huh? So, how goes the search? What have you got for me today?"

"We've narrowed it down to 3 possible locations," said Condoleeza crisply, and she spread out more photos and papers on the presidential desk.

Hmmmm...."Podunk, Iowa." Dubya narrowed his eyes. "I never did like Podunk. It's a crummy little rathole of a place...but those people mostly voted for me, didn't they? Hmmmm. Okay...we got...Lynchville, Kansas. Lynchville? Sounds like another place that would have voted for me too. Shee-it! Wait...we got...Blind River???? Where the hell is Blind River?"

"That's a bit of a problem. It's in Canada. North Ontario, to be more precise."

"No kiddin'? Canada, huh? Well, I'll be damned...lemme look at those photos again." George W. examined the photos and compared them to the original. He scoped it out from every angle.

"It's plain as the backside of a Texas longhorn," he declared at length. "Blind River is the place. That scum-sucking, disbelieving liberal atheist prick is livin' in Blind River, Ontario, Canada!"

"What do we do?" said Condi. "That's outside our official jurisdiction."

George W. laughed out loud. "And when has that ever mattered? Was Eye-rack in our official jurisdiction? Is Eye-ran? Hell, Guantanamo's in Cuba and they can't do squat when we bring people in there and torture 'em without trial. What the hay'll can Canada do? Nothin', that's what. But it'll have to be an undercover job. Actually..." his eyes gleamed, "that's good! Couldn't be better. After all, I can't go loppin' heads off in broad daylight in the good ol' USA...that might lead to subpoenas and Congressional investigations...but I sure as hell can in Canada. The place is a refuge for moose, beavers, and sorry-ass liberals who are soft on socialism. Their armed forces are a joke. They couldn't invade downtown Peoria. They are no threat to anyone. I woulda taken the suckers out years ago, except there isn't even any glory in it. It's not worth the trouble."

"Tell ya what," he went on. "Call up the boys in Special Ops. Have 'em provide me with one o' them black helicopters, one that can carry a live horse and a man in a full set of armour. By Gawd, Bill D, your time is almost up! I'm a'comin' fer ya, now, sucker. You kin run, but you can't hide!" He rubbed his hands gleefully.

Condoleeza took out her cellphone and got right to it.