Quest for the Holy Spork

This is sort of Anti-Bush, so don't complain ti me if you don't like that part.

Any criticism is welcome. You cna point out my spelling if you want.

Miller looked up at the mistress of the Apartment.
“No.” She said firmly, and slammed the door in his face. Just like the last forty-two people he had asked. He was in a 30 floor apartment complex, asking for a place to stay. He had recently become homeless, how even he didn’t quire know. He had gone into his attic to dig out some old recipes for Chicken onna stick, when he suddenly was on the third floor of an office building. This had given him quite a shock, especially since he was in his morning clothes, namely his rubber duck pajamas. He promptly ran out of the building into a busy city. This place looked a lot like NYC, except dodgers stadium didn’t exist. But that was just a minor coincidence; he probably just hadn’t looked hard enough. The reason he was trying to find a place to stay instead of going to the homeless shelter was because that place was full of weirdoes. Of course, there he was standing in an apartment building begging door to door while wearing his rubber duck pajamas. Someone had probably already called the police to have him committed. As he knocked on the next door, it opened fairly quickly, and a voice said “Johnson! I thought you’d never arrive!”
“Wha-“He said, trying to piece together what was happening.
“Well don’t just stand there all day! We have to get ready for the Expedition!”
He had no idea what the man meant by an ‘Expedition’, but the man was apparently willing to take him in. As he walked in to the apartment, he was hit by the smell of a cinnamon air freshener. The apartment appeared to be filled with cheap wal-mart furniture, except for the computer in the corner which seemed quite high tech to anything he had ever seen. And and 36’ big screen TV against the far wall.
“Feel free to make yourself at home, Johnson.”
“My names not Johnson,” He said. “It’s Miller.”
“Oh I’m sorry,” Said the man. “I must have confused your application with someone else’s.”
Miller looked up at the man. This was the first time he had actually looked at his host. He looked to be in his mid thirties, though he had a very thick beard. He had a hat that said ‘Member of the Holy Spork Recovery Team.’
“What does your hat mean?” Said miller.
“You don’t know?” Said the man. “It’s what You’re team is about.”
“What kind of team am I on?”
“Oh,” said the man. “You must have just called the number without reading the article. Times are tough we’re all looking for jobs. Well, I don’t have another appointment for some time; I suppose I could show you the recruitment tape.”
“That would be great.” Said Miller, wanting to know more about the situation at hand.
“My names Bob.” Said the man now known as Bob.
Miller nodded in recognition. Bob put an old tape into the VCR, and soon an announcers voice came on.
“50 years ago.” Said the official sounding announcer. “There was a great president named George Bush. He established the great world we live in today. He had a son that later became a great leader, George W. Bush. George W. Bush regained many of the promised countries, the countries that were promised to America by god that had fallen under rule of Evil Tyrants.”
Bob interjected: “We know all this already; I’m going to skip ahead to the important part.”
Miller was very confuzzled as it was. None of this had happened by his recollection. The video sped past images of bombs falling from Jets; Miller assumed this was the countries being won from the Tyrants. Bob stopped the tape at a picture of a KFC. The announcer’s voice came on again.
“George W. Bush enjoyed the American lifestyle, and would go often to KFC to eat. But one day, his death happened. This is actual footage that had been taken at the time.” The footage showed a very old George W. Bush eating Cole slaw at a table. Suddenly he clenched and fell straight into the Cole slaw. “The Legend goes that whoever eats with the Spork Bush was eating with will become the new Military Leader of Greatness. The Spork was thus hidden inside a temple of mass puzzles and danger”
“So,” Said bob. “Are you coming? It pays well.” The sound of pay sounded very good to a dazed and confuzzled homeless man in what seemed to be NYC sometime in the future.

Haha...no.