A Rove-ian Faerie Tale...In Woodward-&-Bernstein Land


A White House sits upon a shining hill, shocked at the happenings surrounding the facade. A large wall, pressed on display so lovingly just this week has the townsfolk asking...Why? What seemed so obvious only weeks ago as ridiculous has suddenly morphed once again into "inoperative".

The Prince of the White House, some like to call him the Brain, is bitterly involved in an argument that he seemingly started and decided to fight. Some of the townsfolk are already using words like treason.

The Ambassador spoke out of turn, perhaps his first mistake. The Prince and his boss, President Chicken Little, were out beating the war drums with so much vigor that they didn't quite understand that there were actually people in the town asking questions about the explosive statements they were making. Questions that, still to this day, had not been answered.
The Ambassador wasn't afraid to tell the townsfolk what he did not find abroad, contrary to what Chicken Little said he heard was there. In an attempt to quiet the heavy handed drum beatings, the Ambassador wrote to his local Newspaper.

"How shall I discredit the Ambassador?" thought the Prince. He may have spoken this out loud, as of yet we do not know. Ironically, there is no statement of "Mr. President, we need to make sure this is factual" anywhere in the record.
He already knew the answer to the first question that ran through his mind though, having easily succeeded at trashing earlier foes with the same strategy.
"The Maiden will be my prey".

The Ambassador's Lady would be the target. She who at one time had been a spy for her nation, a mission more noble than being a "Brain". There has been some whispering. perhaps still was a spying, in some capacity. We don't quite know.
"She did this. We will focus on his wife." said the Prince.

For two years the struggle has ensued. The Prince and the Ambassador locked in a battle over sixteen words and a slap to the face of American Morality. This was until the Master Barrister decided to create a Damsel-in-Distress.

The Damsel-in Distress is locked away in a high tower, not as an innocent victim...No, No. She knows to much. She states her loyalty to the Prince, for she is well known for spreading gossip friendly to Princely Causes.
The Prince had already helped Chicken Little start a war and the Damsel-in-Distress told story, after story, after story to the townsfolk of heinous weapons that the overseas dictator possessed. Now all known to be false.

But, this is Woodward-&-Bernstein Land. In this strange universe, there is only one deep fear....
The strange creature named Deep Throat.
It had been 33 Years since he last awoke, although his name still produced many giggles amongst the male townsfolk. What the people knew about him was that the mere mention of his name produced fear in people like the Prince.

Then...All of a sudden...Out of a fog of dementia, Deep Throat emerged. A weary soul, revered among most and some calling him a hero.
Meager as he seemed now, his power was still great. His secrets, now well known to every town member and taught in school, had brought down the infamous Tricky-Dicky. Tricky-Dicky is the smallest part of the story, but contains the largest moral.
Sadly for the Prince his good luck had run out of time.

Now Woodward & Bernstein were talking on the heels of the masked man Deep Throat's stunning admission to being just Mark Felt.
Of course the Prince's mentor was none other than the Tricky-Dicky protégé, famous collegian saboteur Segretti. The Prince had his own experience with Deep Throat.
Not in this way though. Never did he dare realize that the now old man could invite the same type of questions that were asked those many years ago. Never would he have realized that some unknown enemy was just lurking around the corner waiting to make Woodward and Bernstein talk again...and again, and again.
And talk they have, and believe that the parallels are now being seen amongst the townfolk. When Tricky-Dicky's old lawyer was out there saying that some of Chicken Little's secrets could be worse than from his old boss... the townsfolk listened. They remembered the gruesome double-chin.

The White House hasn't quite yet learn the lesson from Tricky-Dicky.


Written With All Apologies to the Grimm's.