Your little town is exceptionally patriotic, not to mention that most
people are desperately gullible, so you decide to try and mention the
President to get into the radio station. You'll pose as an official White
House representative, sent to make a Presidential statement about a new
local sniper that's on the loose. Arriving at the WDIE station, you're
halted by a tall, scruffy guy in a worn baseball cap that reads "WDIE rox
the box".

"Excuse me sir, may I ask what you're business here is?" he asks you. "That is your god-given right, citizen." you sternly reply. "I am..." Your eyes fall on a poster ad for Scandinavian Snuff Metal band. "...Bårnjårdrødkil. Bjørn Bårnjårdrødkil. Yes, that will do. I have been dispatched to this town per order of President George W. Bush himself. I must be given access to an on-air microphone, to deliver a message to the people of this town. It is imperative you let me pass." The tall guy smirks and hooks his thumbs in his belt. "Speaking of passes, do you have any sort of ID to prove you are who you claim to be?" Damn. This was unexpected. You fidget around in your pockets, trying to win time. Suddenly, you extract a small, laminated card.

"Here is my pass."

Turns out it's your precious Mewtwo Pokémon card that you had laminated because it's worth several hundreds of dollars. The tall guy leans in close while you mutter to yourself, and just as he's about to vocalize his doubts about your sanity, you deal him two quick slashes across the face with your card. He goes down in a scream, and you rush past him while appreciating the ease at which blood wipes off the card.

You reach the main desk of WDIE radio and repeat your story about the
President's message for the town to the receptionist. "Certainly." she replies. "If you can hang on for a moment, I'll let the DJ know you're interrupting his broadcast." After making a quick phonecall she directs you into a hallway, where you run into a foursome of sharply dressed, shades-sporting brutes.

"Seize him!"

It turns out that the President actually WAS in need of addressing the people of your town, and he personally came over to do so. He was making a statement that all people should cease buying pretzels immediately, as he had solid evidence that they were actually a terrorist attempt at assassinating the American people (quote: "Heck, they even sound Afghanian!"). The WDIE receptionist notified security of your arrival and after you took a vicious beating, Dubya instructed the FBI to find and stop this so-called political "Monster Party" of which he found "propaganda" in your pockets. Before long, Halloween and everything horror-related was abolished and you were executed by an angry mob of trick-or-treaters.

START OVER, YOU PRETZEL!