Once, many miles away, there lived a young girl named Sarah Palin. An established member of government, Sarah’s lifelong dream was to become the first female President of the United States. However, she faced one major dilemma restraining her from this ambition: she lived in an unfathomably cold, desolate region of Alaska. Though Sarah was an admired governor who did a sufficient job, she longed to leave her snow-covered surroundings for the White House in Washington DC. She would plead: “Somewhere over the ocean snow will melt. Get me out of Alaska, out of this arctic hell.”


One blistering afternoon, Sarah, accompanied by her best friend Joe the Plumber, was out mushing sled dogs when a fierce blizzard entrapped them. The friends took shelter in a crusty wood shed, but it unhitched and spun in a whirlwind. After what seemed like ages, the blizzard abruptly stopped, thrashing the shed to the ground.

Sarah and Joe, to their amazement, wandered out into a land of color and awe. All around them water flowed down a pristine river, reflecting the vibrant colors of large buildings. On the horizon sat a mountain range with a canvas of growing trees, something Sarah had never witnessed.

“Joe,” she declared, “I don’t think we’re in Alaska anymore.”

“No, you’re not,” a lovely woman in a pink gown answered, suddenly appearing just a few paces from Sarah and Joe. She beamed as she pleasantly introduced herself to them. “Welcome to the continental United States. My name is Laura Bush, the First Lady of the South. Are you a good First Lady, or a bad First Lady?”
“Oh, I’m not a First Lady at all,” Sarah correct. “My name is Sarah Palin, and-”
“Sarah Palin!” Laura sonorously repeated. “You shall forever be a hero to this great country’s citizens, for your shed has fallen graciously fallen upon the wicked Nancy Pelosi!” Laura chuckled. “What a fitting ending for a Speaker of the House!”

An explosion abruptly ceased the joyous laughter of the citizens who had gathered around to express their gratitude for Sarah. Near the spot where the shed had landed, a nasty looking woman with sickly green skin appeared. She scowled as she wiped her hands on her evil black pantsuit.

“Who killed my colleague?” the woman inquired, her voice piercing to every ear.

Laura placed her hand on Sarah’s shoulder, cautioning her. “That’s Hillary, the wicked Secretary of State. She’s the only being more terrible than Nancy Pelosi.”

“So no talkers?” Hillary screeched, peering from left to right. “No matter. I shall now claim her ruby pantsuit as my own, making my power stronger than ever!” She towered over Nancy’s remnants, but before her very eyes the pantsuit vanished. Seconds later, it reappeared on Sarah.

Hillary enviously glared at Sarah, knowing she would be cursed if she attacked her in front of Laura. “I’ll get you, my pretty,” she threatened, “and your little Plumber, too!” Another fiery explosion, and Hillary disappeared.

Sarah saw the horrified looks of the citizens around her, so she attempted to relieve the tension with a joke. “You know what the difference is between a wicked old witch and a pit bull?” She paused for consideration. “Lipstick!”
The citizens laughed and returned to their duties. Meanwhile, Sarah turned to speak with Laura. “Do you know how I can get home to Alaska?”
“Why, yes, of course!” Laura smiled. “Just follow the freeway to Washington DC, where the great and powerful Wizard Obama can send you home.”

“Thank you, so much!” Sarah shouted, as she already had begun skipping down the freeway with Joe the Plumber. It was several long miles before Sarah spotted a curious looking scarecrow perched on a conspicuous farmland.

“Do I know you?” she asked, tilting her head sideways to examine the scarecrow.

“Duh,” the man answered humorously. “I’m former President George W. Bush. At least I think I am.” He flailed his arms every which way. “I’m really not sure, because I don’t have a brain.”

Sarah helped the scarecrow down form his pole. “I tell you what,” she began, “I’m going to see a Wizard in Washington DC, and maybe he could give you a brain.”

“I’d love a brain!” George jumped for joy. “I could know just what I’m preaching, and be much better at speeching if I only had a brain! Could I please come with you?”
“You betcha’ you can!” Sarah enthusiastically invited. “Now let’s get going!”

Sarah and George, accompanied by Joe, now skipped along the road for several more miles until they found themselves in a quiet wood. Just off the side of the road, Joe
noticed a man with a bright silver complexion, as still as a statue. He was rather short and stubby, wore a small pair of glasses, held a shotgun, and grimaced, showing his unvarying displeasure. Upon closer examination, it was evident he was made of tin.
The man muffled something to Sarah and George, but due to his muted state, it was not comprehended. The tin man grunted once more in desperation to communicate.
“He said, ‘Defibulator’,” George declared, thinking he had heard correctly. Sure enough, sitting on the ground next to the tin man was one of the medical shocking devices. Sarah picked it up, placed it on the Tin Man’s chest, and pressed. The electric shock woke him out of his immovable state.

“Thanks,” the elderly man grunted. “I’ve been here for ages. I was out hunting with my good lawyer friend one day, when I accidentally shot him in the face. He ended up okay, but I had a minor heart attack and froze up.” He shrugged as Sarah and George showed compassion. “I’m Tin Man Cheney, by the way,” he extended his hand in greetings. “I’m usually not very good at meeting people, because I’m not all that friendly. You see,” he pounded his hollow chest, “I don’t have a working heart.”

“Oh, that’s terrible!” Sarah stated in shock. “You should come with us. We’re going to Washington DC to see a Wizard who can give him a brain,” she pointed at George, “and me a way home.”

“Sounds great,” Tin Man Cheney agreed, unenthusiastically. “I’d relate more sentimentally, and not shoot guys accidentally if I only had a heart.”

Sarah, George, Cheney, and Joe now trotted down the street. It was a long while before they found themselves within a dark, frightening part of the forest.

“Put ‘em up, my friends!” came a loud, spontaneous demand. From behind a tree sprang a large lion, attempting to pick a fight with anyone and everyone in the group. His order was given to no avail, so he tried again. “My friends, I said put ‘em up!” The lion
aggressively raised his hands up to his shoulders, evidently the highest they would reach. This, matched with his bald head and feeble voice, made him appear to be as much a threat to the group as a harmless flower.

Tin Man Cheney lifted his shotgun and took aim, but the lion caught him before any damage could be done. “Tryin’ to pull a gun on me, hey, my friends?” As he approached Cheney with his claws raised, Sarah stepped between the two and slapped the lion in the face.

“Ouch!” the lion cowered. “What’d you do that for, my friend? I didn’t bite him!”

Sarah frowned sternly. “Oh, you wanted to!” she condescendingly scolded.

“No, I really didn’t,” the lion confessed. “I’m nothing but a coward. ‘McCain the Coward’ the animals always call me. They don’t even realize I’m a war veteran!” He turned away and moped to himself. “People think I’m such a novice, but I could run the oval office if I only had the nerve.”
Sarah, George, and Cheney felt remorse for Lion McCain. Sarah asked him, “Why don’t you come with us to Washington DC? We’re seeing a Wizard who’d probably give you some courage!”
“Well,” McCain began, “the last time I was in Washington DC everyone laughed at me.” He contemplated the offer for a moment, and then stated, “But I’m a maverick of a lion! Let’s go, my friends!”