Once there was a Vice-President who was the darling of rightwing religious organizations. No one else took him quite seriously, but to them, he was a hero. So, naturally, he tried to help them promote their policies.
One thing the fundamentalists hated was genetic engineering. They felt that the entire science was a sacrilegious interference in an area best left to God. They begged the Vice-President to do everything in his power to hinder the development of the, to them, evil field, and he agreed to try.
At first, the President was reluctant, but after months and months of nagging, he finally gave in. And so, all federal funding was removed.
This enraged a very famous scientist named Dr. Malevplotz. He was head of an important research facility, called the Institute for Genetic Mutability, and he vowed to get revenge.
One night, as the full moon glowed bright in the sky, Dr. Malevplotz snuck into the Vice-President's bedroom, and took out a syringe full of frog-DNA molecules and tranquilizers. Chuckling evilly to himself, he rolled up the right sleeve of the Vice-President's polka-dotted pajama top, and injected the needle into his victim's arm. The Vice-President awoke with a start and had just enough time to recognize the grinning figure of Dr. Malevplotz, before the tranquilizers took effect and he fell back unconscious.
The mischievous biologist watched silently for a few minutes longer, and then smiled even wider as he noticed the sleeping man's skin turning a distinct shade of green.
The next morning, when the maid came in to tidy up, she clucked sadly when she saw the unmade bed and the pile of pajamas sprawled under the sheets. "How many times will I have to tell that boy to clean up after himself?" she complained. She became even more upset when she noticed a very confused and slimy frog croaking desperately on the pillow. "Oh, dear," she said, "now he's bringing pets home again. We can't have that, we can't have that!" Not being squeamish, she picked the frog up, opened the window, and tossed him out into the yard. Fortunately, the room was on the first floor and the frog landed safely on the grass. "No, no, no," she said, as she began to dust, "we can't have that. After all, what would the press think?"
The frog hopped back up to the window and waited sadly for several hours, hoping someone would let him back in. Eventually, as the afternoon sun grew hot, and hunger sprung up inside his amphibian stomach, he croaked sadly, wistful for his stolen life (for he was, of course, actually the Vice-President), and turned and made his way into the wide world, being sure to keep watch for flies.
Several weeks went by before anyone noticed that the Vice-President had disappeared. He had never had a lot to do, and had never said all that much, so his absence barely registered on the busy capital. Eventually, when the maid finally pointed out that he hadn't been seen for a month, everyone assumed that he had flown off on some junket, to attend a foreign leader's funeral, or something. Then everyone forgot him completely.
The poor frog, meanwhile, hopped about, in search of adventures, until, one day, he was captured by a company that sold experimental animals. They put him up for sale, and he was eventually purchased by the Biology Department of a certain university. There he was very well fed, and completely cared for. At last, he felt, he had achieved a measure of contentment. He probably would have been less sanguine, however, if he realized that he was scheduled for dissection by a freshmen anatomy class.
Several months went by, until, one day, the President, in the middle of playing tennis with the Prime Minister of Uruguay, suddenly had a heart attack and died. The nation was stunned and for a few days life came to a halt. Then, as the initial shock began to wear off, one thought planted itself into the minds of the mournful citizens: Where is the Vice-President?
The Vice-President was trapped, terrified, in the tight grip of a co-ed named Cindy Soridson. The professor ordered the class to begin the dissection and she picked up a horrifyingly sharp knife and brought it closer to the frog. The tiny creature said his prayers and prepared to meet his maker. Cindy pressed the blade against his trembling stomach and...
Threw the knife back to her desk. "I can't do it, I can't do it!" she sobbed, running out of the classroom, carrying the relieved Vice-President with her. "I can't kill this poor, helpless animal!" She pushed open the door and ran into the hallway. Then she stopped and looked at the small creature she had generously rescued. "No," she repeated, "I can't kill you." He croaked cheerfully up at her, and began to dream of a happy life as her pet. Then he noticed that an evil grin was spreading over her lips. "I can't kill you when you'd make such a fitting subject for experiments in my radiation lab!"
Meanwhile, the FBI was conducting an exhaustive search for the Vice-President. They interviewed his golf partners, who couldn't help them. They questioned his media-handlers, but they hadn't a clue. They even grilled his hair stylists, who were completely at a loss.
Alas, they didn't think to search in Cindy Soridson's lab, in the physics building of the university. And even if they had, they probably wouldn't have looked twice at the poor frog who was bound tightly by elastic straps, directly in front of the nozzle of a bizarre looking gun. "At last!" cried Cindy. "A chance to test my theory! If this works, they'll never be able to turn down my thesis."
The excited girl stepped over to a complicated looking control panel, filled with flashing lights and dials. "I'm certain that concentrated cotrinatronium rays will bring out latent features hidden in DNA. Now I'll finally find out." She brought her hand to the panel. "O.K., frog, let's see what a level seven dosage does to you." The frog croaked in terror and Cindy pushed in a black button.
Suddenly, the machine started humming, and a strange, purple ray flashed out of the nozzle, and shot directly into the frog's body. It continued for several seconds, and then, Cindy's eyes grew wide because, there, strapped tightly to the table, was the nude, helpless form of the vice-president.
Cindy, who was always into kinky sex, was thrilled, and determined right there to marry him. She approached his bound body and...
But lets leave them to their fun, and jump forward in time two weeks. The erstwhile Vice-President has been sworn in and has taken up his duties as the new chief executive. Only one loose end remains to be cleared up.
The FBI agents escorted Dr. Malevplotz into the Oval Office.
"So, Doctor," said the president, "you had your chance for revenge. Now it's my turn." The scientist stared sullenly at the ground. "I have prepared for you," continued the former frog, "a fate worse then death. A fate that will strip you of all dignity, that will rob you of the last shreds of responsibility, that will doom you to total obscurity. You will be the butt of countless jokes and the object of endless derision. It will be a living hell, and I can think of no one who deserves it more than you. Yes, Doctor, I am making you... the new Vice-President!"
Dr. Malevplotz screamed in terror, and the FBI agents laughed. No one noticed the President thrust out his tongue and swallow a fly.
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