Playing 'Gestapo' with Rumsfeld

I was already in a grumpy mood to start the day. My walking stick was nowhere to be found. I was hobbling around on my arthritic knee, looking around for my special cane. I decided to check the supply shed, which put me in an even fouler mood. The supply shed is supposed to be filled with gardening supplies — hoses, flower seeds, bags of compost and manure, spades, shovels, twine, gloves. Gradually, over the last three years, the gardening supplies have been replaced by spare robot parts. Some of the Vice President's spare legs are propped up where the shovels used to be, circuitry is spread all over the benches, and a bunch of ball bearings are lying around in jars. I was moving robot parts around to find my walking stick when a large shadow filled the room. I spun to see who was blocking the doorway.

It was Donald Rumsfeld. He was holding a set of matches.

"Did you ever see a match burn twice?" he asked.

"Matches only burn once," I said, trying to be bold.

Mr. Donald lit the match and said, "One." He blew it out and quickly jabbed the burnt end into my forearm.

"Two."

"That's very funny, Mr. Donald." He was blocking my exit from the shed.

"Say, Lenny, do you want to play 'Gestapo'?"

"How do you play?" I should have just said No, but for some reason, I thought that would make it worse.

"What's your name?" Mr. Donald asked.

"It's Lenny."

He slapped me. "You're lying."

Mr. Donald finally left the shed, and I couldn't find my walking stick. I am in a black mood.