Friday, November 12, 2004
"Thanks, man," Satan says, as they ride away in the borrowed Jeep. "I was beginning to think nobody with enough authority was going to intervene with those numbskulls."
"No problem," Osama says. "It is hard to get good help these days. And Arafat has been out of touch for a long time."
"So who finally brought you in?"
"Not George W., surely?" Satan says.
"No," Osama laughs, "they couldn't tear him away from his video game. Now that Rove's dead, the financier Bush cousins have had to play a somewhat more active role in policy-making. They prefer the shadows, as do I."
"Rove was a smart boy, all right," Satan says proudly. "You gotta love the balls on a mere human who'll come up with big grandiose plans like 9/11 and the invasion of Iraq."
"Yeah," Osama sighs. "On 9/11 I gave the Bu'ushites the mandate they needed to go to war and curtail civil liberties; by invading Iraq George gave me the recruiting tool I needed. And your boy put it all together. I didn't believe him, in fact, you know that?"
"That the Twin Towers would collapse if we hit them with a jet airplane. I scoffed. But he'd done the engineering calculations. He had it all worked out."
"He constantly amazed me too. My own boy!"
"I've been wondering," Osama says.
"Yeah?" Satan says.
"Wouldn't that suit have some sort of resurrection powers?"
Satan nods. "You're thinking of bringing Karl back, right?"
"Well," Osama says, "I really miss him."
"Don't think I haven't given it some thought," Satan says. "The problem is that when the fuckwits chopped him down on the Million Mantid March, they burned the plant and scattered the ashes. I don't know how I'd resurrect any of that. I really need Karl here to help me figure it out!"
"Yeah, I'm feeling a bit adrift these days too. Just last year Karl got me to demand the removal of US troops from Saudi Arabia, and then removed them, giving me a tremendous boost all across the Middle East--and then figured out a way to spin it in the US so the Chimp Clone didn't lose points with the militarists who think I'm you!"
"Sheer genius," Satan agrees.
"But that was then," Osama says rather plaintively. "Now, what? A measly little war of attrition against the infidel occupiers of Iraq? Small potatoes. I need Karl. Promise me you'll figure out a way to bring him back."
"You got it, big guy," Satan says.