Nightmare on Pennsylvania Ave. - BOOHOO, BOOHOO

The White House is alive with the sounds of the season -- spine-chilling screeches, bone-rattling boos, blood-curdling screams. And that's just chief of staff Andrew Card, reading the president's latest approval ratings.

The president and the first lady's annual Halloween party is in full swing when Tom DeLay steps into the room.

The congressman is feeling good. Mighty good, in fact.

He's been photographed, fingerprinted and released on bond, and he's as confident as ever that he'll beat -- as he tells everyone who'll listen -- "one of the weakest, most baseless indictments in American history."

Still, he's a bit nervous. He's not sure how his costume will go over.

DeLay pauses to let his eyes adjust to the dim lighting in the room. "I knew I should have gone with the cockroach costume," he mutters to himself. "That would have been more -- whatchamacallit -- self-effacing."

"And it would have paid homage to your early political training as an exterminator," replies a voice in the darkness.

DeLay whirls around, his hands balled into fists. Out of the shadows steps Karl Rove, dressed as a giant subpoena. "How are you doing, Tom?" the president's aide asks cheerily. "Holding up OK?"

"It's one of the weakest, most baseless indictments -- "

"Yeah, yeah," Rove interjects. "In American history. I know your full whine. So, what are you supposed to be?"

DeLay's face reddens and his eyes narrow to slits. "I'm a money bag!" he snaps, pointing to the huge dollar sign covering the front of his bulbous costume. He twirls around to give Rove the full view.

Rove chortles. "If I were under oath, Tom, I'd probably say you look like a giant diaper. But a money bag is good. Very good. Self-effacing, yet defiant."

DeLay scans the room, looking desperately for someone, anyone else, to talk to.

There's Dick Cheney, dressed as the Energy Hog. And Rep. Don Young, who's painted himself gold and is wearing a giant papier-mache bridge as a hat.

But before DeLay can choose which one to approach, Sen. Bill Frist lopes across the room, dressed in an orange jumpsuit. "Hey, Tom, great diaper!" Frist hollers.

"Thanks. Nice prison outfit you got there," DeLay replies sullenly. He tugs self-consciously at his costume.

"Well, thanks," Frist says, beaming. "You know, Martha Stewart and Donald Trump are here. You should talk to them."

"What for?" DeLay says, his voice thick with suspicion.

"They're franchising spinoffs of 'The Apprentice'!" Frist answers. "They said when my stock-selling troubles are cleared up, I should do lunch with them."

DeLay is no longer listening. His mouth is open wide in disbelief: Heading his way is Jack Abramoff, the former Republican lobbyist recently indicted on fraud and conspiracy charges.

Abramoff, accused of swindling millions of dollars from Indian tribes, is dressed in an Armani suit and full-feather war bonnet. "Hammer, my old friend," he says as he playfully taps DeLay on the head with a toy tomahawk. "How's the old shakedown going?"

"Don't call me friend," DeLay snarls. "And don't use the word 'shakedown.'"

"Whatever you say, buddy" Abramoff replies. He steps closer to examine DeLay's costume. "So, what's with the diaper?"

DeLay tries to storm off, but as he turns, he narrowly misses hitting Cheney's adviser, Lewis Libby, rolling by on a scooter. "Hiya, Hammer," Libby says, honking the horn on his handlebars. "You out on bond?"

DeLay tries to maneuver around him but gets his feet entangled in Scooter's scooter. He tumbles to the floor, bringing down Scooter, then Frist, then Abramoff, then Rove.

The room abruptly falls silent. The crowd parts, and the president -- dressed in an elaborate costume made entirely of genuine Crawford brush -- strides toward the pile of people on the floor.

"Is there a problem here?" Bush asks sternly.

"No, sir," the men squeak. "No problem at all."

Bush looks at them quizzically. As he turns to walk away, he whispers to Laura, "I forget: Is the theme of our party corruption or incompetence?"