I like your little animated Camel there, thanks ! 
I bet his next one is a doozie....
Posted on 09/20/2002 4:08:02 PM PDT by Pokey78
After Zabibah And The King comes . . .
LAST CAMEL FROM BAGHDAD
The latest great allegorical novel by Saddam Hussein
FIRST DRAFT
"Aaaar-oooow! Aaaieeeeeeeeee! Neeeeeaauuueaauuuu!"
"Zabibah, baby, can you hold it down? The neighbours'll think I've got a couple of Kurds clamped up to the electrodes again."
The nubile Babylonian maiden rolled back on the pillow, shook her ebony tresses over her lush full breasts and gazed devotedly at her king. "You are a superb lover, Majesty," she said. "The beads of sweat from your royal armpits are like nectar. The brush of your nasal hair is like cashmere. The stylish English trilby makes you look a little like Frank Sinatra on that LP you bring over when you're not in such a hurry . . ."
"What was that?" said the King nervously, jumping up and grabbing his pants.
"What was what, O merciless master?"
"That faint whirring sound overhead."
"Oh, that's just the new electric fan. Come back to bed, my savage sovereign. Unzip your trousers. You're in the no-fly zone, remember?"
"You're right," he said, slapping her around a little. "A woman is like a country. She needs a strong master to bend her to his will. You should be honoured that I do to you twice a week what I've been doing to Iraq for decades."
"I had that dream again last night, master," said Zabibah, peeling a green fig and playfully inserting it between the King's cruel lips. "The one where I seem to be the very landscape. My proud breasts are the northern hills, my gently undulating belly is the desert, my legs are the opposing shores of the Persian Gulf, and the secret mystery of my womanhood is the great port at Basra. And then I look up and see a strange metal bird looming over me. I feel his shadow on my hills and desert and then his undercarriage opens up and he unleashes his phallic ordinance to penetrate me to the very core of my being. Then I wake up drenched in perspiration. What can it mean, my lord?"
"It means American men are lousy lovers," said the King. "They always explode on contact."
"You know this allegory business?" said Zabibah. "You're supposed to be Saddam and I'm supposed to be Iraq? What if that's not right? What if I, the helpless, slightly overweight woman, am really Saddam and you, the mighty warrior, are really George W. Bush? Ever thought of that, big boy?"
The King was getting that weird headache again. And anyway how come the electric fan was working? The Americans bombed the power plant last Tuesday. And Zabibah's theory sounded awfully like that e-mail he got from Oliver Stone about the film version. Where was it again?
"Here it is," said Zabibah, pulling it from among the rose petals floating in the shimmering ornamental pool. "I'll read it to you."
From: stoner@paranoidpictures.com
To: saddam109@aol.com
Allegory, man! I LOVE IT!! What a book! You're Zabibah, right? You've been taking it from the Pentagon, the CIA, Reagan all these years? And waddaya got to show for it? See, here's how we'll open. It's 1883, 1897, whatever, and Queen Victoria and Grover Cleveland are plotting how to control Mesopotamia for the entire 20th century, right? And first they figure, hey, let's change the name to Iraq, cuz then it'll sound like Iran, and no one'll give a ---- what we do to it. And they're totally out of their ------' heads on opium and they go into this heavy trip where they see Dick Cheney shooting up a liquor store in Baghdad, and then he drops his pants and he's got, like, this huge gas pump in there and he fills up his Cadillac with it, and he's played by Gary Oldman, and you're like his bitch and you're whimpering, please, look, I did everything you wanted, I invaded Iran for you, please don't hurt me more than you have to, and Queen Victoria and Grover ------' Cleveland are doing Walk Like An Egyptian by the Bangles."
"Stop it!" yelled the King, covering his ears and shattering the night silence with a piercing scream. In the hush that followed, he could just make out the loyal members of his faithful praetorian guard in the corridor saying, "Hear that? Someone's put a knife in the old bastard" and breaking into a chorus of Ding Dong, The Witch Is Dead. "Look, Zabibah," he said, calmly. "For the last time, this is how the allegory works: I'm Saddam and you're Scott Ritter. No, wait. . ."
"Oh, it's all coming out now," she sneered.
"Shut up," snapped the King. "You might be a right purdy l'il honey lyin' there like - hang on, why am I suddenly talking in a Texan accent?" His headache was getting worse. This first draft was going nowhere. Maybe he should get some sleep, try again in the morning.
"Suit yourself," said Zabibah. "Maybe you're right. I'm a woman so I should be Iraq." She stretched lazily on the cushions and pulled a Turkish cigarette from his hatband. "But I'm beginning to feel like a liberated woman …
"I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar."
"It's not a musical!" shouted the King. But the more he covered his ears, the louder the orchestra got.
I like your little animated Camel there, thanks !
I bet his next one is a doozie....
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