Count Sucku;a couldn't help but wonder what the Wicked Witch of the West and The Unpronounceable One were up to. But however he would find this out, he knew it would be dangerous. So, like anyone else looking for free weapons and financial support, he went to see Dubya.
"Hawdy childern," Dubya said as Sucku;a entered the Whitehouse, "what yall need?"
"Oh," the Count began, "I'm looking for something three to six inches long, with roughly enough power to reduce a concrete barrier to rubble in four to six shots."
"Kinda vague," Dubya commented, "but I'll see what I've got." Sucku;a followed Dubya to a large vault filled with every weapon imaginable. Dubya took down a bazooka and began to explain it. "This here's the WAT004, 2000 rounds, capable of taking down a medium sized fortress or small citadel. Over here we got the DER-8U, firing 200 rounds and one content edit a second. And this one here's mah lucky pistol - I personally shot Saddam with this one."
"What's this?" Sucku;a asked, picking up a thin board against the wall, "a yardstick?"
"Actually, she's a meterstick," Dubya corrected.
Sucku;a looked over the 100cm plank. "How many shots does it have?" he questioned.
"I suppose as many as you want it to," Dubya replied.
"Excellent," the Count said evilly, "I'll take four."

Dubya had graciously let Sucku;a use his Air Force One jet to move a little faster. The Count had no idea where he was going, so he had stared into the sun until it had had left an imprint on his eye obvious enough to follow. After a long flight, lasting nearly eight minutes, they landed in the forest.
As soon as Sucku;a and Dubya disembarked the jet, they found a small house. Since nobody seemed to be inside, they loaded their weapons and entered. They looked around until they found seven small beds.
"Squishy, Flaky, Axmurdery, Smokey, BOB_ALLENy, Crunchy, and Plaguey," Sucku;a read off the beds, "what blissfully disturbing names." Before he could say another word, the door creaked open, and Dubya emptied 20 rounds into the first four short little men that entered.
The one clearly known as Flaky gasped. "You killed Squishy, Axmurdery, Smokey, and Crunchy!" Sucku;a cracked him over the head with a meterstick to avoid any more confusion.
BOB_ALLENy began to introduce himself "HELLO FACES. I AM BOB_ALLENY. THIS IS MY COLLEAUGE PLAGUEY," He gestured towards the diseased man being carried by a legion of rats. The man seemed to have control over the rats.
"Hello, gentlemen," Sucku;a began," would either of you happen to know anything about the Wicked Witch of the West, or her partner-in-crime, The Unpronounceable One?"'
BOB_ALLENy thought for a moment, "NO, I CAN'T SAY THAT I HAVE. SORRY, FACES."
The Count turned to Plaguey. "Your friend seems to be quite talented in the art of controlling lesser beings," he commented, "do you mind if we recruit him into our RPG style party?"
So, after a bit of trading, Plaguey joined Sucku;a and Dubya in their quest to find the Wicked Witch and that other guy with the long name. However, when they left the house, the found the Air Force One jet torn to shreds!
"This is the work of the Wicked Witch!" Sucku;a said certainly. Indeed, it must've been, as nobody else would write "I AM THE WICKED WITCH U SUX" on a plane they had just destroyed. Burning with rage, Sucku;a left to go get a waffle to snack on before they continued their mighty quest.