The Last Temptation of Osama Bin Laden

Day V

This is the final installment of the special report from the Intercontinental Radio News. At 10:49 am, an un-named official in Washington confirmed that terrorist Osama Bin Laden had finally cracked under interrogation.

Despite the flagrant violations of the rules of the Geneva Convention, Bin Laden’s still hadn’t cracked.  The questions were still unanswered, and the team was running out of time. If the interrogators didn’t have a lead in the next several hours, the politicians might intervene and take the entire interrogation out of their hands. “Them damn liberals will probably want to give the som-bitch a lawyer!” the Texan thought to himself. Because of this, he poured over the recordings of the interviews and cross-referenced Bin Laden’s responses with what he found in the evidence the Seals confiscated. After nine straight hours, he was starting to discern a pattern. When he slowed the video down to frame-by-frame view, he detected a certain twitch in Bin Laden’s right eye when he answered certain types of questions. At last, he had found Bin Laden’s weakness.

For the final day of the interrogation, the Texan came dressed as a cowboy.  He strapped twin six-shooters cap guns in their holsters to his waist; donned red boots with spurs, and wore wrangler jeans, a ponderosa-style embroidered shirt, and his white cowboy hat. As soon as he came into the room, he threw his lasso around Bin Laden and pulled it tight. Then, he tightened up the rope as he danced around the prisoner like an Indian. Once Bin Laden was secure, the Texan threw a black bag over as head and dragged him out of the room by his feet. The Texan yelled, “Yi-ha” as he dragged Bin Laden down a flight of stairs and into an elevator. Bin Laden lost consciousness somewhere between the stairs and the elevator. When he awoke, he felt like he was outdoors.

The first time during this ordeal, he began to worry.  He survived the food, the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition, and the psychiatric evaluation by the pole dancing FBI agent.  He had rumors about these marauding cowboys, their merciless treatment of the American Indian, and their poor taste in food.  He feared that his number was finally up. Before he knew it, the Texan pulled a black coat off of his head. The sun shone brightly in the Western sky, and the light made him squint. The wind blew from the east; a tumbleweed rolled by on the horizon.  Ironically, he felt very at him. He wasn’t in the desert, but it was close. When Bin Laden could finally see, he noticed that the Texan was laughing, standing next to a large she-goat whose fur was the same color as that of the lesbian from the FBI.

Osama sat in muted shock for several seconds and then began to cry.  His secret was out.

I knowed it! Hot damn! I knowed it. After all them comments you made about cows and other livestock during the interrogation, I shudda figured you was a “stump buster!”

Allah, forgive me!  I’ve shown my weakness.  Strike me down with your righteous sword before I betray you anymore.

Nah, nah.  You ain’t gonna get off so easy.  You see that there billy goat over yonder? Well, his name’s Lucky.  And, he’s a full-fled ‘stud-muffin’. That’s right! Ole Lucky over there is an oil tanker that’s ‘bout ready to dock.

No, you mustn’t defile the lovely creature! She’s is so beautiful and her heart is pure because she doesn’t desire the male of her species.

Why, hell, Osama, that there describes all the women on the planet! Most of them got no use for a man, lesson something needs fixing!

No, you must desist from this madness! Osama cannot bear to see such unholiness!

Here’s how it gunna work, Sparky. Iffen you don’t tell me what I wanna know, I’ma gunna turn him loose. And, you know what’s gonna happen!  He’s gonna mount her like a camel jockey. It aint gunna be pretty! Now, tell me, who was at them there gatherings at your house in Abbottabad?

No I cannot. Please, anything but that!

I’ma gunna open the gate, and he’s gunna do his duty.

Okay, I’ll talk. The President and the entire Pakistani cabinet were all frequent visitors to the house in Abbottabad.  There arre all, how you say, “stump busters.”  We would hold our meetings in the pasture at night with Bin Laden’s flock of goats.  We would stand on large rocks or tree stumps and back the animals up to our naked bodies… then, we would, as you say, “bust stumps.”  We would also chase sheep naked through the fields. That idiot, Pervez Musharraf would always chase the ugliest goats, and bring shame onto his family. He would chase them down and whisper sweet nothings in their ears. Benazir Bhutto was going to put an end to it all.  We had to act.

Tarnation! I knew you was involved! Now we got what we want yur no longer any good to us. We’re gonna turn you over the government so they can bring you up on charges of terrorism. Hell, theys gonna talk your ass to death. Hell, they might even get you on TV for weeks at a time while those som-bitch politicians question you soes they can get re-elected. Then, yur liberal assed lawyers is gonna file appeal after appeal whiles you rot in jail. You gonna dry up like an ole cow pie out in the pasture. You’ll be begging for them to find yur ass guilty and up an kill ya.

Please, have mercy and keel me.  Bin Laden cannot stand this food anymore.

Sorry, it’s out a my hands! You should a known before you messed with the US of A.

The marines stationed at the gates of the corral took Bin Laden back to his cell to await trial. The Texan returned to the conference room to write the conclusion to his report. When all was said and done, his colleagues were impressed with his work. They all gathered in the conference room to toast their victory and to congratulate their team leader.

The investigator from the IRS asked, “How did you know that Bin Laden had animal proclivities?”

Why, hell—said the Texan—aint you ever been around farm animals in West Texas? They say that 70% of your cow and sheep handlers are bona fide “stump busters,” and, you know what, the other thirty percent lie!

Cross-posted at My Ongoing Struggle with Misanthropy: http://jimmygabacho.com/?p=513

 

Gabacho– according to the Dictionary of the Spanish Royal Academy– is derived from an old Provençal word “gavach,” meaning a person from the foothills of the Pyrenees who spoke incorrectly. These days, it means “outsider,” somebody who just doesn’t fit in.

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