You spot Bob Dole alone by the French-onion dip, drinking a bottle of Kiwi Strawberry Snapple. You boldly walk over to him and introduce yourself. Trying to direct his attention away from his Snapple, you strike up a conversation on how professional tennis should go back to using the wooden racket. When Dole starts talking about how good Big Bill Tilden would have been with a graphite racket, you carefully take the poison vile from your back pocket and empty it into his bottle. After you make sure Dole drinks the entire contents of the glass, you end the conversation and walk away.