Gitmo

First time --- granted, it could have been a freak occurrence.
Second time --- a strange coincidence.
Third time --- ah, ah, these doings are getting spooky.

For the third night in a row,
the "lights" have invaded my room.
What do they want?

A high pitched voice, squeaky replies:
"We don't want much, only you
because what you got, we like.".

If these are extra terrestrials, I'm kinda flattered,
but still in terror's grip. Me? They want me?
I'm just a postal clerk, bland, washed out and underpaid.

"Precisely," creepy hisses,
a guy like you we can make invisible
and a super hero overnight.

Me a hero, and no paparazzi...
Who could ask for anything more.
Whoever you are, you got my attention.

"Last but not least," Vader continues,
we'll set you up with a genetically reconstituted Cleopatra,
freakier than 70 virgins in a tub with a bottle of vodka.

The mission, if I may ask?
Simple (voice over back to Creepy)
Fly a helicopter into the White House.

"No way," ses me,
"I voted for George and the old Bush before."
"What a coincidence," ses dem, "so did we!"

Just then, I recover my senses, strapped to a gurney
marked, Department of Defense, a tentacle in my rectum,
an assortment of hoses in my nose mouth and ears