"Oh the games people play."

Mimicking the president's nightly pre-bedtime war games, the world's mightiest navy, reinforced almost daily by aides sent to Toys-R-Us for more toy warships, grew and grew inside George Bush's Persian Gulf bathtub.

Shortly after his nightly challenging Wheel of Fortune, George announced, "I'm going to early bath, early bed," giving Pickles a good night pat on the top of the head.

After five months, Laura accepted her "wartime president" husband's newest obsession. She had taken to showering in a downstairs bath to avoid disturbing George's Gulf fleet movements.

But tonight's anticipation of infusing this newest carrier group--the third since last September--excited George. His almost orgasmic glee of enlarging his naval build-up in his nightly strategic bathtub war games had been difficult to conceal. It would, no doubt, scare the shit out of the Iranians.

George's baths had been bubbleless for months now, lest they obscure the menacing multiplying warships designed to instill fear.

Easing into the warm waters of his little Persian Gulf, George carefully unwrapped each of the newest toy warships and carefully placed them inside his Strait of Hormuz. In his excitement, George failed to notice the drop of spittle that fell onto the deck of his mini-atomic powered U.S.S. Dwight D. Eisenhower, preventing its little F/A-18F Super Hornets from taking off or landing on its saliva slimed carrier deck.

As his fleet had grown over the past four and a half months, so had the length of Bush's baths. The bathtub was growing increasingly conjested with light cruisers, missile cruisers, battleships, submarines, destroyers, mine sweepers and his favorities, those behemoth aircraft carriers capable of raining down terror from the skies. George knew it would soon be time to put them to good use.

Putin of Russia was getting testy. Threatening even. And the Iranians were craftily avoiding George's provocations for war. Their nuclear program had been dropped as pretext to blow the shit out of the bastards. Even if they were developing nukes, it would be years. George didn't have the attention span nor time for such.

So George had changed plans. He would focus on the bomb materiel being exported to and used in Iraq. Inevitably he would corner the Iranians and provoke them to strike out at the Americans. "It will be a cakewalk," George heard him say gleefully to himself.

But at the same time as Bush was relishing in all his bathing beauty, the Iranian Minister of Defense, somewhere deep within the secret subterranean bowels of Tehran was reassuring his leadership against their increasing nervousness of the naval buildup in the Gulf. Adding little ships to a large bas-relief map of the Gulf, he wondered to himself, "Had his leaders never heard of America's General Custer?"

Raising a miniature model of a Sunburn missile before them he spoke. "Patience. Wait for more American ships to arrive. When they do," he said stroking his mini-missile with erotic like pleasure, "we will close the doors of Hormuz. The Americans will have no escape. Trying hard to conceal his ecstasy, he drooled, "It will be like shooting toy boats in a bathtub!"

Unnoticed went the excited Defense Minister's drop of spittle that fell atop the flight deck of America's little nuclear powered U.S.S. Dwight D. Eisenhower.