Arnold Schwarzenegger is…The Creditor

by Gabriel Grossman

Tuesday morning, National Lampoon uncovered disturbing footage from the desk of Arnold Schwarzenegger:

This footage proves what we’ve suspected for some time now: He is more than a governor—he is a warrior, a protector. Now, more than ever before, Arnold will stand up for the poor, tired, huddled masses. What lies ahead for him has proved too great a task even for The Barbarian (you know, the legendary Cimmerian warrior who, with the help of Crom, was responsible for the usurpation of the fabled Vanir warlord Thulsa Doom).

This evil has openly infiltrated every faction of Californian society. It renders the power grid dead by the sheer weight of its influence. Its very grasp corrodes the already-decaying public school system, and its guttural and spiteful snicker shakes the very foundations of the health care system.

There exists only one man ready and able to halt the ever-advancing formations of this pure malevolent power, and that is the man who modestly presents himself above as the bearer of the legendary blade, Excalibur. This will be a battle hard fought: the weeds of red tape must be scythed, the parasitic partisan bickering must be surgically excised.  A budget must necessarily be carved into the state, and the constant need for constitutional revision must be cut from California’s collective consciousness like a cancerous lesion. Arnold Schwarzenegger wants everyone (on Twitter) to know, he will bear that burden.

Off come the starched, pastel-colored, short-sleeved button-up shirts, on comes the flak jacket. Off comes the leather belt, on comes the ammo belt. The pen will be sheathed (after the autographs are completed as planned) as the sword—that hellish, torso-sized beast of a sword—is brandished. He must become the ultimate warrior. If he truly wishes to destroy the budget emergency, he must become more than an actor. More than a politician. He must become the very spirit of… The Creditor.

Soon the cuts will begin.

Coming to a theater near you whenever he damn well feels like it. (He’s the one with the bear-sized knife. He calls the shots.)