"Thanks Pesky. Yep, you just won't believe this one. Many have wondered how exactly Tom "10-Second" DeLay became such a cheapass freakjob. Now we know. Here's what I discovered after extensive interviews with Capitol rodents.
Once upon a time, Tom DeLay was not a cheapass freakjob. No, in fact he was a warm, kind, generous person, determined to help his fellow man. He would help old ladies across the street. He would buy Girl Scout cookies without looking sinister. He would purchase the less expensive items in the Nordstrom catalog, and use the money he saved to hire unemployed men to scrub the caviar stains off his porch. He was a paragon of virtue.
But Tom was never truly happy. There was a nagging feeling of emptiness in his heart, an ulceration which ate at the fibers of his soul, leaving him frayed, like a worn-out tennis shoe where the metal eyelets have been removed by crows. Tom knew the altruistic life wasn't for him, but he didn't know what else there was. But then, one day, everything changed.
Tom was sitting in his office, looking through a piece of legislation that would prevent ten thousand barrels of toxic waste from being dumped directly into the drinking water supply of a nearby elementary school. Tom was leaning toward approving the bill, when he heard a noise. He swung around in his executive leather chair and could not believe his eyes.
There, directly in front of him, was the ghostly apparition of the Taco Bell Chihuahua, former fast food spokescanine. "Hello, Tom. I have been waiting for you. I am the Ghost of the Taco Bell Chihuahua. I have come to show you the true meaning of Cheapness."
Tom hesitated. "But you don't sound like the Taco Bell Chihuahua--"
The chihuahua chuckled. "Oh, yes, that." He pulled out a bowie knife and pulled it across his own paw, drawing ghostly blood. "I put on quite a show, eh?"
"Why are you here?" asked Tom, shivering in his poorly sized Armani suit.
"As I said, to show you the true meaning of Cheapness. Come with me." The Chihuahua transported Tom back to The Good Old Days, when Tom was a boy and women thought he was cute. "You see?" said the Chihuahua, "Back in the Good Old Days life was good. You did not pay any taxes. You did not have to help anybody. You lived for yourself only. You snuck porn magazines into your room and if you got caught you could blame the neighbor kid. This was the only time in your life when you were truly alive."
Tom choked up. "You're so right, oh my god you are so right". He began to sob.
The Chihuahua looked at him curiously. "You could have that again, you know. The freedom. The lack of responsibility. The right to steal Joey Simpson's lunch money and get nothing more than a slap on the wrist. It could all be yours."
Tom felt his heart flutter with hope for the first time in many years. "Really? Oh, Mr. Chihuahua, how? I'll do anything."
The Chihuahua stared into Tom's eyes. "Anything?"
"Oh, yes. It would make me so happy."
The Chihuahua pulled out a six-hundred and sixty-six page contract in small print, handed Tom a pen, and said, "All right, Tom, just sign here." Tom stared at the contract, unsure. The Chihuahua pressed on. "You remember that feeling, Tom? When you could spit on the girls and not let them into your secret fort, and nobody would do a damned thing to stop you? When you kept all your money for yourself, and bought a hundred lollipops and sat in your room and looked at topless women in National Geographic and sucked all day? Remember?" Tom nodded vigorously. "Then sign the contract, Tom. And I will tell you how to get all that back again."
Tom signed the contract. Over the next few weeks, Tom's friends and family noticed a change, subtle at first. Tom no longer offered to pour lemonade at a church social. Then Tom stopped putting the seat down on the toilet. And then, in an orgy of selfishness that is unrivalled to this day, Tom sponsored a raft of legislation designed to bring back The Good Old Days and used his position as a Congressman to steal the lunch money of everybody in Joey Simpson's tax bracket.
To this day, visitors to the Capitol sometimes see the ghostly figure of the Chihuahua hovering near Tom DeLay's right ear.
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