Bin Laden in New York

Osama bin Pappy

"Quit bumbling you fool! And bring the potted cactus over here!"
Osama carefully combed his beard with... a toothbrush. He did not really understand why the Americans had invented it.* It wasn't very useful.
"Be mindful that you do not get the pot in the shot. We must make it look like I'm still in the Middle East somewhere!"
Muhammed Ali-habbi-Q'pabbi rearranged the cactuses and positioned himself behind the camera.
"We're good, Mr. bin Laden director, sir!"
"The light's blipping! Does that mean the tape is rolling? Huh? Oh..."
"I am Osama bin Laden. I am producing this tape to show you that you dirty Americans have not won. Further, I am very mad that you elected that Bush guy again. I told you not to do that and you didn't listen you bad imperialistic pig-dog Americans! Bad, bad, bad! Now I will have no choice but to continue releasing more video tapes until you surrender. Praise Allah!"
"Oh, and I declare jihad... again... like last time... only this time even worse! Like totally worse! We're gonna be, like, jiggy-with-the-jihad! You hear that Americans!? Jiggy-jihad! If I were you, I would be wetting my pants right now! And I don't even wear pants! Jihad against pants! And...uh... decadent Western civilization. Yeah."
"Finally, a word from our sponsor: Drink Coca-Cola. It doesn't taste like camel spit. Really, it doesn't. You should try it and see for yourself."
"Death to American infidels!"
"Cut tape!"
Osama wiped the sweat from his brow.
"This tape will really show those American pig-dogs. How did I do?"
"Excellent Mr. bin Laden!"
"Good. Mail it to CBS with a note saying that we are not secretly hiding in America. Oh, and be sure to send a fruit basket for Dan Rather. I know he'll appreciate it and I forgot to send him a card for his birthday."
Muhammed Ali-habbi-Q'pabbi folded the tripod and gathered the cactuses. He and Osama were in the subway where this sort of thing would generally go unnoticed. The subway was a great place for secret anti-government activities. On the other hand, they had already been mugged three times. It was not easy convincing the muggers that they did not want to steal evil infidel American moving-picture technology.
Outside, Osama whistled for a Taxi. A yellow cab pulled up and they climbed in back.
"Where do you want to go?"
"4th street."
* * *

The Whitehouse.

Bush paced back and forth in the oval office.
"I almost had him Dick. So close. I almost caught him."
"Don't worry. You have 4 more years now."
"But I almost caught him! You will never understand...."
"What won't I ever understand?"
"It all goes back to when we were kids. Osama and I never got along. We went to the same pre-school. I had just been elected president of the sandbox. I was so proud. I built a huge sand castle. It was the best sand castle ever! Then Osama sent some of his goons over with a toy helicopter and a tugboat. They smashed them into my sand castle and knocked it down. So I went to go get revenge on Osama but he was hiding somewhere where I couldn't find him. Then the New York Times ran a frontpage story on it! It was very embarassing."
"That sounds stupid. Why didn't you retaliate with a fullscale ISBT (inter-sandbox ballistic tugboat) strike?"
"GAH! I didn't even think of that!"
"But what do we do now? I know he's in New York somewhere!"
The room suddenly darkened and turned chill.
"Rove, is that you?"
Karl Rove manifested out of the shadows.
"Yes, it is I. And I know what you must do."
* * *
To be continued...

P.S. In the next installment, you find out why it's called "Osama bin Pappy".