Rumsfeld's out of shapes.

Defense Secretary Rumsfeld visits Bush,

apologizes for misplacing the Pentagon

Secretary of Defense Donald "Tito" Rumsfeld made a surprise trip to President George W. Bush's Crawford ranch Monday night to report that he, Rumsfeld, cannot seem to find the Pentagon.

Clearly embarrassed, Rumsfeld arrived in the back of a camouflage limousine driven by a deaf-mute chauffeur named Silencio, and reportedly said little on the trip into Crawford. However, a few miles from Bush's house, Rumsfeld did stop by the side of the road so that he could roll down his window, extend his arm outward, and flip off Cindy Sheehan (see Peter Jennings story below).

As revealed in an exclusive recording of the conversation obtained by an intrepid Catchpenny correspondent posing as a half-eaten bag of pork rinds, Rumsfeld approached his boss with extreme caution and mind-fuckingly uncharacteristic humility, sheepishly tapping Bush on the shoulder. Bush nearly hit the roof at Rumsfeld's appearance, as he had been sleeping soundly at such a late hour (7 p.m.) and dreaming of a world in which he is not the worst president in American history.

"Mr. President, I'm sorry to wake you, sir," Rumsfeld said. "But we need to talk."

"Goddamn, Rum-meister," Bush said, rubbing the sleep gunk from his tear ducts and checking his watch. "You know what time it is, doncha? I need my sleep so I can focus on all kinds of crap, like you know, 'issues' and 'folks.'"

"I know, sir. I'm so sorry. It's just that-" Rumsfeld stammered. He bowed his head, his face reddening, his arms interlaced behind his back and his right leg swiveling back and forth on the ball of his foot. "Mr. President, I've lost the Pentagon, sir. I had just seen it a minute ago and then I turn around and it's not there anymore and I'm so confused and I don't know where it is so Mr. President I'm so-"

"Jesus, Rummo," Bush said. "Get a grip. That's what you came here for? So you lost the Pentagon. Big fuggin' deal. What's the Pentagon, anyway? Damn thing's only got five sides. How's a five-sided thingy gonna protect 'Merica? We need a hexagon, a sevenagon, or one a them, whatcha call 'em- a dodecahedron. Hell, we oughtta just use the Epcot Center; that motherfucker has a billion sides."

"So you're not mad?" Rumsfeld said, obviously stunned; a single tear dropped from his left eye.

"Shit no," Bush said. "Hell, even as we speak, I couldn't find Wisconsin if you put a gun to my head. And don't forget, you and me have managed to lose stuff together before, too. Like that round of "Pictionary" the other night 'gainst Condi and Karl. And Bin Laden. Get your shit together, Rumbot, we're gonna be fine. Now go on, git; it's 'bout time for my bubble bath."

Besides the Pentagon, Rumsfeld has also recently lost his glasses, a fancy pen, and the war on terror.