“Just exactly whom are we going to tattoo with this thing boss?” the minion requested, “there are many deserved gentlemen before us!”
The minion said this as he brandished a cumbersome implement as long as a loaf of French bread; Cheney just glowered at them all.
“The ugly one babbling about ‘changing horses in midstream’, ‘Why do you hate America?’ and 'If you do that, the terrorists will win!” proclaimed the Gray Leader.
The minion, not being as up to date on US politics as the leader was inclined to believe, responded with, “Cut the crap, just point to him - you know much we’d hate to anal probe the wrong guy!”
The Gray Leader zapped his disrespectfull minon with his 1920’s style Death Ray ™ and called upon Minon #2, “Congratulations, promoted you are. The ballheaded guy to probe.”
“Uh, um, sorry, boss, but what’s ‘ballheaded’ mean?” asked the second minion, abjectly quivering in terror.
“Minons getting thin on ground,” commented the Gray Leader as he zapped #2, “Congrats No.3, beeg promotion you get. Probe all hoomans to be sure. No get confused that way, me keep 'em minons.”
“No sweat, boss,” Minion #3 said, “but first could you just explain to me why you’re talking like some kind of Hollywood-stereotyped Native American, or Boss Nass from that gawdawful *Star Wars * prequel?”
The Gypsy drew down on the Grey Leader with the 9mm Glock, “You ain’t probin’ *all *us humans, you little fink!”
The Gray Leader shot the Gypsy with his Paralizing Ray ™ and remarked to Minon #3, “We is Space Aliens, we talks funny, you eediot,” gesturing with the 1920’s Style Death Ray™,“Number four ees looking for beeg promotion, you watch ass.”
Fortunately, the paralyzing ray’s affects only last 1.3 seconds and the Gypsy was able to return fire, emptying the clip in the general direction of the Grey Leader.
“Hey!” chided the Gray Leader as half a dozen slugs ripped through his body, “Be carefull with that thing, you could hurt somebody!”
Meanwhile, the giant squid wiped a few uniform shreds from his beak and began tapping his tentacles on the brightly-colored buttons and blinking lights of the podium until, with a whiny “whoooosh,” an opening appeared in one wall, revealing a long tube-like space beyond, into which the squid slithered, his appetite still not wholly slaked.
As the Grey Leader slumped to the floor with a final gasp, Bert and Ernie scooted up to the carcass mumbling…grey matter…grey matter…and began tearing away at the Leaders limp body.
As they tore further and further into the gooey, gray gelatinous mass and found only more goo, a frustrated Bert cried, “Where’s the beef, dammit?”
Ernie; “Not now, let’s finish off this guy first and then take it back to my place, 'kay?”
Elvis, Timmy and Al Gore looked on, horrified, before bolting for the door.
“God, a red nugget, a fat egg under a dog!” Timmy interjected.
“A man, a plan, a canal - Panama!” chortled Gore and Cheney in palindromic unison, recalling their mutual predecessor in the Vice Presidency.
A loud fart echoed throughout the room.