George W. Bush Knows my Mechanic

They're pals, they go drinking and driving; they gulp down apple martinis in that sleazy bar around the corner from my place. George W. Bush and my mechanic get alone very well and they don't try to hide it. I saw a few days ago Air Force One parked behind a tree trying not to catch too much attention, while they were out on a drinking spree.

My mechanic's name is Bill, so Bill and George W. Bush go out with their pockets full of cash and their jeans. While Bill smokes his "Marlboro Ultra Light 100s", G.W. Bush chews tobacco spiting all over the flowers that grow beside the sidewalk. One day I thought that a stain on the floor was the result of a very fucking sick dog, but once I got closer, I noticed it was a tobacco spit, Texas Style.

One of them said that the problem with my car was the gasoline filter, and that once replaced things were gona be fine. The other one said something about Saddam Hussein and that once he was replaced everything was gona be fine (or was it something related to WMD?).

It turned out they're both full of shit! Partners in crime these two rats. . .