PROLOGUE: MANY YEARS AGO
The two dusky skinned Arab boys huddled on the hot sand, looking down at a large pool of black oil that bubbled up in a hollow between the dunes. They sat like frozen statues staring at the brutal dark pond.
They had just watched the family she camel sink beneath the surface of the thick black goop.
"We're dog fucked," the older of the two boys said to his brother who was crying softly. "Father will cut off our man parts before we ever get a chance to use them."
Out across the desert, toward Baghdad, a small black dot threw up a cloud of sand like an ominous tornado heading their way.
Neither of the boys had used their man parts so far for anything but shameful private amusement. Apart from seeing little girls bathing the brothers had little knowledge of female anatomy. Beneath layers of cotton there were rumored to be luscious budding breasts and curvaceous rumps. Delights the boys would never have the chance to discover when their father had finished with them for loosing his favorite camel.
The younger brother wiped his eyes. "Shall we run away to the city brother?"
"Perhaps," the older boy replied. He was watching the dark spot out on the desert grow larger. It growled like their father's stomach after a big pot of bean stew. He'd never seen a motor car before and as it drew near he took his brother's hand, wondering whether salvation or damnation was roaring down on them.
The twelve cylinder Bentley sedan pulled to a stop beside the boys. A curtain of sand surrounded them and the two men inside waited till it settled, then stepped out of their car and walked toward the oil pond. The western infidels wore high leather boots and shirts with labels on the pockets that said British Petroleum.
They took samples of the oil in large cans, which they stowed in the boot of their car. The tall blond infidel with a red sunburned face smiled at the brothers and gave each of them a piece of candy. He talked to the boys in bad Arabic. He asked their names and where they lived.
He let them sit in the car behind the wheel and asked if they wanted to see the Victrola music machine they had back at their camp.
The next morning the boys were crying as they returned to their village. They walked with a bandy-legged gate and their backside parts were sore.
"Those English Devils have made me into a girl!" the younger brother said through his tears.
"The filthy bastards will be sorry!" the older brother said. "I will have my revenge. They will pay for what they have done. Someday the world will fear the name of Osama Bin Laden!"
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The two dusky skinned Arab boys huddled on the hot sand, looking down at a large pool of black oil that bubbled up in a hollow between the dunes. They sat like frozen statues staring at the brutal dark pond.
They had just watched the family she camel sink beneath the surface of the thick black goop.
"We're dog fucked," the older of the two boys said to his brother who was crying softly. "Father will cut off our man parts before we ever get a chance to use them."
Out across the desert, toward Baghdad, a small black dot threw up a cloud of sand like an ominous tornado heading their way.
Neither of the boys had used their man parts so far for anything but shameful private amusement. Apart from seeing little girls bathing the brothers had little knowledge of female anatomy. Beneath layers of cotton there were rumored to be luscious budding breasts and curvaceous rumps. Delights the boys would never have the chance to discover when their father had finished with them for loosing his favorite camel.
The younger brother wiped his eyes. "Shall we run away to the city brother?"
"Perhaps," the older boy replied. He was watching the dark spot out on the desert grow larger. It growled like their father's stomach after a big pot of bean stew. He'd never seen a motor car before and as it drew near he took his brother's hand, wondering whether salvation or damnation was roaring down on them.
The twelve cylinder Bentley sedan pulled to a stop beside the boys. A curtain of sand surrounded them and the two men inside waited till it settled, then stepped out of their car and walked toward the oil pond. The western infidels wore high leather boots and shirts with labels on the pockets that said British Petroleum.
They took samples of the oil in large cans, which they stowed in the boot of their car. The tall blond infidel with a red sunburned face smiled at the brothers and gave each of them a piece of candy. He talked to the boys in bad Arabic. He asked their names and where they lived.
He let them sit in the car behind the wheel and asked if they wanted to see the Victrola music machine they had back at their camp.
The next morning the boys were crying as they returned to their village. They walked with a bandy-legged gate and their backside parts were sore.
"Those English Devils have made me into a girl!" the younger brother said through his tears.
"The filthy bastards will be sorry!" the older brother said. "I will have my revenge. They will pay for what they have done. Someday the world will fear the name of Osama Bin Laden!"
Visit My Web Site
http://paulcorman.blogspot.com/
posted by Paul at
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