In contrast with the Hamzters' space suits in need for a trip to the laundry, President Bush looked neat in his dark blue suit and light blue tie. He wrinkled his nose as he approached the Hamzters eating roses in his garden. "Howdy Hamzters," he said in his studied folksy way.

    "Ah, Your Presidency," Chief Space Hamzter, clicked his heels and gave Bush a Nazi salute. "What can we do for you?"

    "Hamzters, I hate to say this, but I need your help."

    Chief Hamzter scratched his arm pit. "Like what, oh Great Chief of State."

    "State is somewhere down the street." Bush tried to remember who was chief of State and if State was part of Homeland Security or what. There was also this mess about his State of the Union speech. And the state of affairs in the state of California. The word State was bothersome. A light came on in his brain and he remembered Colin Powell. Assuming a statesman-like pose, he said. "I want you to share my heavy burden in Iraq."

    "What's in it for us?"

    What was wrong with people, or in this case Hamzters? Didn't they understand that they should unquestionably follow the leader of the free world? Well, maybe international politics were similar to domestic. One had to bribe one's way to success. "Oh you get to be Paul Bremmer's official pets, like the Poles."

    "Polish jokes are no longer considered in good taste, Mr. Prez."

    "I need three panzer, I mean Hamzter divisions." Damn zees confused him.

    Military Hamzter finished eating a yellow rose then rose to his feet. "I could spare the 25th. Light Skateboard Division."

    "Not so quick, soldier," Chief Hamzter growled. "We want a share of oil revenues."

    "That's reserved for Chenney's buddies."

    "So you want us to be targets for the sport of it?"

    "Actually I was keeping your reward for later, but if you insist--"

    "We insist."

    This damn Hamzter would, he looked like a Champagne swilling degenerate, furry European. "I will share the great American dream with you."

    "Share your dreams with fat baseball-hatted guys in pickup trucks. We want real stuff."

    These were tough negotiators. But razzmatazz worked before, and it could work again, especially with these stupid old galaxy Hamsters. "Umm," he said, trying to convey insider knowledge. "You can have Sadam's hoard of peanut butter."

    Military Hamzter said, "Yum, yum."

    Bush gave him the approving smile he reserved for new Europeans.

    Chief Hamzter nudged Military Hamzter with his elbow. "Oh Great Wise One--where is this peanut butter hoard?"

    "Same place as Sadam's nuclear arsenal. You have to go in and find it."

    Diplomatic Hamzter stepped in. "We need to consult with our government on Planet Z and other world leaders on Terra."

    Leaving a trail of rose petals, the Hamzters scurried into their space ship.

#

    A day after President Bush made his famous peanut butter in Iraq speech, and Prime Minister Blair supported it by his statement that Iraqis could produce peanut butter within 45 minutes, the Hamzters wearing top hats, morning coats and striped trousers marched into the Elysee Palace.

    President Chirac asked. "What did Le Bouche offer for your assistance?

    "Nothing for something," Chief Hamzter said, as he accepted a glass of Champagne. "He's brilliant, the only man on earth who can create a quagmire out of a sand pit."

    "Les poor Americains," Chirac said to Chancellor Shroeder who had dropped in for a glass of wine. "What can we do to help them?"

    "I don't recommend sending pretzels."