Tammy wouldn’t like Hitler’s sense of humor and would give him a frowny face every time he told a joke. He would invite her to his parades and she’d tell him the goose-stepping looked “gay” and that she “didn’t get” the swastika. This would undermine his confidence and make it harder for him to retain an iron grip on power. “I don’t know what you see in that Goebbels,” she’d say. “He seems like kind of a loser.” Her constant criticisms would result in Hitler and Goebbels not hanging out as much. As a result, Nazi propaganda would suffer. Tammy would also insist that they forgo his favorite watering holes and instead go to places she likes. The putsch would then happen at a tacky folk-music bar with her ex-boyfriend playing guitar. Most of Hitler’s friends wouldn’t have shown up, because they couldn’t stand the constant arguing. In the middle of their relationship, Tammy would tell Hitler she was going on a trip with some guy she worked with. With Hitler’s self-esteem in the gutter, he’d lack the support and influence necessary to invade Poland and start World War II. Eventually, he’d break up with Tammy and call Himmler, whom he’d blown off for two years.
Sharon would go into the captain’s quarters and refuse to leave. “I just want to talk,” she’d say, “I just want to talk.” He’d beg her to leave, but she would just keep telling the captain she loved him and wanted to talk. “I don’t want to talk,” he’d say, “I don’t want anything to do with you.” Sharon would tell him that’s not true and that she knew he loved her. She’d say she wouldn’t let him break up with her anyway. The captain would threaten to call the police. “Go ahead,” she’d say, “I’m not leaving.” Frustrated and desperate to get away from her, he’d flee his quarters and run on deck, where he’d spot the giant iceberg. “Goodness! Go a few degrees port-ish,” he’d tell the folks piloting the ship—averting potential disaster. Sharon would be unaware that she saved so many lives, as she would be busy trying to feed the captain’s cat a tomato—because she thinks cats can eat them. After finally exiting the captain’s quarters for good, she’d leave a long message on his voice mail telling him he was an ugly loser and everyone hated him. Then she’d make out with his first mate.
In the middle of planning a surprise attack on civilians, Osama bin Laden would be invited to meet Anna’s family in rural Pennsylvania over Christmas break. Osama would get along fine with the overbearing mom and timid dad until the mom went through his bags and found Anna’s marijuana and birth control pills. Having triggered the mother’s dormant psychosis, Anna would then be dragged upstairs for six hours of being called a whore. This would be discomforting to Osama, who would sit in the living room freaking out. When Mohammed Atta called to check in, Osama would be totally frazzled. “Hold off on the martyrdom ops, dude. I’m up to my ears in shit,” he’d say. Anna and Osama would decide to cut the trip short and leave the next day. The following morning, Osama would sit in the freezing car for another three hours while the mom wrapped up calling her daughter a whore and drug addict. While her dad remained in the house peering from behind the curtains, Anna’s mom would come out to curse at Osama for ruining their daughter’s “white wedding.” Osama would be forced to spend the next year dealing with Anna’s being disowned. While tending to her subsequent nervous breakdown, he’d neglect his evil endeavor, which would give a vigilant INS the chance to notice that several pilots-in-training had no interest in flaps or landing gear.
Cuban Missile Crisis
Maggie would regularly call Castro “Mr. Poops,” which he’d find endearing but, at the same time, childish. Though she’s an extremely beautiful and sweet girl, Castro would have a hard time finding her sexy, because of the childlike demeanor. Every time he said, “So …,” she’d finish with “… buttons on your fanny.” Again, something he’d find cute but weird. Castro would find it very hard to stay threatening on the phone with Kennedy, because she would make puckered-up fish faces as he talked. She would only communicate with him in babyspeak, which he would accidentally carry over into his conversations with the Soviets. After hearing Castro say, “Toodles, my noodle,” Khrushchev would call a little powwow at the Kremlin. The Politburo would decide that Mr. Poops wasn’t the best person to mind their nuclear weapons. There would be no missile crisis. A few weeks later, Castro would call the relationship quits when he hears Maggie pee.
Kelly would keep trying to get David Koresh to have sex in the shower. “C’mon, baby doll,” she’d say in a Southern twang. “C’mon, baby doll.” He would be very concerned about the FBI/ATF forces amassed outside his compound, but she would only talk about sex. She’d tell him to try some ecstasy because the sex would be great when on ecstasy. About 12 minutes later he’d realize he was chemically impotent, but that would be OK with him. He’d just smile. “What’s the matter, baby doll,” she’d ask. “You gay, baby doll?” He’d take deep breaths and sink into the bed as his pupils dilated to maximum. Having discovered the remarkable texture of Kelly’s fake breasts, he’d start rubbing them lovingly and telling her how fantastic they were. The warmth of her skin would resonate as awesome ATF agents beautifully entered his wonderful bedroom and fired two gorgeous rounds into his eye.