Arm in arm, the group skipped along until they finally reached the majestic capital city of the United States. As they approached the gate to the White House, an angry looking guard introduced himself to the group.
“I’m Vice President Joe Biden,” the heated character barked. “The Wizard says for you to go home!”

Tin Man Cheney looked curiously at Biden. “Can’t you check with him first?” he challenged.

Biden furiously retorted, “Can’t you go a week without having heart surgery?” He shook his head in disgust as he turned to the remaining members of the group. “Go away! The Wizard isn’t seeing anyone. Not nobody, not no how!”

Just then a large puff of smoke appeared in the sky. The Wicked Hillary had returned on her broomstick, and was spelling out a message. She cackled as she flew away, revealing the phrase, “Surrender Sarah.”

“Please, sir,” Sarah pleaded, nearly in tears. “That’s me! The witch is after me!”

“Oh, my,” Biden expressed with genuine concern. “Now that’s a donkey of a different color! I suppose I can let you in.” He lowered his voice to convey a secret. “Even we fellow democrats can’t stand Hillary. Follow me this way.”

The gates opened, and the friends began their walk through the White House. Around them, senators and congressmen were diligently working at a rapid pace while they sang, “Sign sign here, sign sign there, and a bailout’s on its way. That’s how we give the money back in the merry old USA!”
Biden led the group down a series of hallways right up to the entrance to the oval office. He unlocked the door, allowing the friends to proceed in. The room was surprisingly eerie and dark, with lights flickering every which way. Suddenly, a massive face appeared and resonantly roared, “I am Obama, the Great and Powerful!”
Sarah’s knees shook as she spoke to the Wizard. “Hello, sir. I’d-”

“Silence!” the Wizard commanded. “Before I bestow my assistance to you, you must perform one small task. Bring me the portrait of Monica Lewinski from the Wicked Hillary’s castle. Then I’ll grant your requests. Now go!”

The friends stood in stunned distress. Finally McCain cried, “But we could be killed. We can’t do that!”

The Wizard bellowed with even more force, “Yes you can! Now go!”

The friends bolted out of the room and out the door of the White House. Though discontented with the Wizard’s stubbornness, the friends ultimately decided to set forth for Hillary’s castle; it was the only chance any of them had to obtain what they desired most. They devised a clever plan to snatch the portrait, and were soon on their way.
Hours later, Sarah, George, Cheney, McCain, and Joe arrived at the steps to the horrifying castle. Disguised as Hillary’s evil guards, who looked coincidentally like the democratically slanted MSNBC news team, the friends snuck their way to the portrait hanging in the witch’s vacant living room. As George attempted to unhitch it, there was a burst of smoke and Hillary emerged.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she shrieked. With a wave of her hand, the witch conjured a broomstick with a flame at its end. She aimed the broom directly at Scarecrow Bush, who had given up trying to remove the portrait from the wall.

“Scared, Bushy?” Hillary sneered. “Regretting the ‘no fire left behind’ act?”

“Can’t you just throw a shoe at me instead?” George begged.
Cheney looked from one side of the room to the other, but guards surrounded them. “I can’t believe we didn’t plan an exit strategy,” he muttered to himself.

As these events transpired, Sarah had subtly removed the portrait from the wall. In a desperate attempt to save her friend, she swung the picture as hard as she could right across Hillary’s head. An enchantment of the portrait caused Hillary to begin to melt.

“Oh, what a world!” she cried, realizing she’d been defeated. “I knew Monica Lewinski would be the death of me!” With that, the witch perished.

After minutes of rejoicing with the guards, the friends claimed Monica Lewinski’s portrait and returned to the White House beaming with confidence. Vice President Biden congratulated each member of the group as he assisted them back to the oval office.
“Here it is!” Sarah shouted enthusiastically to the Wizard’s giant face. “The portrait of Monica Lewinski!”

“Mission accomplished!” Scarecrow Bush added.

“Not so fast!” The Great Obama began. “I’m busy. Come back tomorrow!”

As Sarah, George, Cheney, and McCain debated with the Wizard, Joe the Plumber curiously snuck toward a small curtained booth on the opposite side of the room. He opened it, revealing a stout man with gray hair. The man spoke with a southern drawl.
“Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!” he demanded, looking at the group the whole while. “Except you, Ms. Palin,” he added, giving the thumbs-up gesture. “You can pay attention to the man behind the curtain.”

Sarah wasn’t appreciative of the comment. “Who are you?” she implored.
The man sighed, knowing he’d been discovered. “Why, I am the Great and Powerful Wizard Obama… but you may know me as former President Bill Clinton.”

Sarah scowled. “Why, you’re no Wizard at all! You can’t help us!”

“Oh, that’s not true,” Bill corrected. He turned to Scarecrow Bush. “Maybe I can’t give you a brain, but I have got one thing you haven’t got…” he pulled a burlap sack out from his booth, reached into it, and pulled out a videotape. “An impeachment trial!”

“I don’t want that!” George declined unhappily. “I’ve had enough presidential problems of my own!”

“Whatever,” Clinton dismissed, as he turned to face Tin Man Cheney. “I do have one thing you haven’t got…” he reached into the sack again. “Unsigned divorce papers!”

“But I want a heart,” Cheney muttered in argument. “And I love my wife.”
“Well, there’s your problem right there,” Bill confidently concluded. He continued down the line and faced Lion McCain. “I really do have one thing you haven’t got…” he reached into the sack once more. “A house deed!”

“But, my friend,” McCain corrected, “I have several houses already.”
Bill stood, looking dumbfounded at everyone in the room.

“Oh,” Sarah worried, “I hope there’s nothing in that sack for me.”
“Sorry,” Bill apologized. “I don’t even have a hot air balloon.” He turned and faced Scarecrow Bush. “They gave me a heads-up that inflation would be a problem. Maybe I should have given you the memo.”

Sarah sat down and cried desperately. “Now I’ll never get home!”
On these words, Laura, the First Lady of the South, magically reappeared by Sarah’s side. She comfortingly handed her a tissue and placed her hand on her shoulder.

“Sarah,” she calmly spoke, “You’ve always been able to go home. I’m sorry I refrained from telling you, but you needed to learn how much you love your home in Alaska first. Now,” she waved her wand toward Sarah’s legs. “Click your boots together and say, ‘I can see Russia from my house.’ It’s just that easy!”

Sarah smiled, relieved that she’d be able to get back home. She turned, and lamentably waved goodbye to her friends who she’d developed such a close relationship with. Without anything more to say, Sarah held Joe the Plumber’s hand and did exactly as Laura had told her. A whirlwind of snow formed around them—just as the blizzard had in Alaska—and seconds later, Sarah woke from a deep sleep on the floor of the crusty wooden shed she and Joe had taken shelter in.

Sarah sat up to observe her surroundings, and as soon as she understood her dream was over and she was back in the real world, she felt great gratification.
Beaming with joy of her newfound revelation, Sarah turned to announce her realization to Joe: “To think I wanted to leave Alaska because it gets a little cold at night!” She opened the shed’s door, ready to make the rigorous trek home. “I still want to be President someday, but at least I now know that the only white house I’ll ever need is the one I have covered in snow right here in my own back yard!”