Devin Nunes is terrified. His back is pinned to the wall outside the Rose garden entrance.  Devin is right to be terror-struck. At his jugular are the drooling fangs of a huge Doberman. His shoulders are pinned by two massive, black clawed paws.

“Please! No!” Whimpers Devin. “Please get him off.” Devin’s tearful simpering only enrages the fierce beast who now has the House Intelligence Chairman on the ground atop one of Michelle Obama’s prized rose bushes.

“Off Fluffy!” orders the handler. “Let him up! Oh my God! It’s Chairman Nunes. What on earth are you doing sneaking in the dark – it’s midnight! You’ve got security clearance. Why not just walk through the main entrance?”

When he was finally able to compose himself, Devin simpered “The Master bade me come ‘incognito’.”

Now, With his fore paws sprawled over his captive’s chest and abdomen, Fluffy was graciously licking the tears from Devin Nune’s sobbing face while anxiously waiting for his “good-dog” treat. Sensing his pal’s eagerness to please, his handler gave Fluffy a handful of sardines’n’garlic pup-nibbles. Fluffy, being really a good natured sort, set about sharing his slimy, mushy treats with his hostage using his K-9 mouth-to-mouth resuscitation technique .

With a perplexed smile, the guard asked: “Master? What Master? Who’re you talking about?”

“Infidel, sneered Devin Nunes. You know perfectly well who I mean – The Boss. What do you call him?”

“Mr. President?” replied the guard who was by now becoming weary of the kindergarten drama.

“Door’s open –  party’s on the third floor. Better slip into a restroom and clean up before going upstairs. He’s a germiphobe y’know. Won’t take well to that slimy face – or the sardine garlic breath for that matter.”

By now Devin had managed to struggle to his feet. “Better not try to leave until Fluffys through sniffing your crotch. K-9 security protocol y’know.”

Finally, up on the White House residence floor, Devin Nunes locates the event by following the direction of the noise and making his way to a hallway door where he is admitted by a gargantuan Tongan bouncer.

“What took you so long Sparky?” grinned Donald Trump. “No matter – c’mon in and have some fun. You’re just in time for Stormy’s parlor games.”

“Oh! I love parlor games Master” fawned Devin. “What are we playing?”

“Golden Waterfalls” chuckled Donald. “We’ve been waiting for you to get here so we can start.”

“I’m so very honored Master. What do I do?”

“Simple. Just come over to the big blue carpet, lay face-up on your back in the middle of the Presidential Seal and Stormy will slip the blindfold over your eyes. Then, while you’re getting nice and comfy, the girls will draw straws and whoever gets the short straw is the winner.”

“So what does she win?” giggles Devin.

“Actually, you’re the winner” Donald replies. “That is, if you can answer the ‘Golden Question'”.

“Golden Question?” wonders Devin.

“Sure. The girl with the short straw stands over you and give you a little shower. When she’s done, Stormy takes off the blindfold and you guess which girl did it.”

“And if I guess right?” asked Devin trying to conceal his disgust.

“Stormy gives you one of my ‘get out of jail free’ cards.”

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