Gertie Grills Saddam

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Once again, I was asked to do some talkin' for the guvmint. Colonel Flanders asked me to go to a real secret place sos I could help question Saddam Hoosane cuz ol' Flanders knows how persuasive I can be.

Anyhoo, I kissed Clyde good-bye and then flew over on the redeye.

Cousin Earl met me at the gate and hugged the stuffing out of me. He took my bags showed me into this room where Hoosane, Mr. Dick-tater hisself was sitting and looking down at his shoes.

I walked up to the table and said, "Hidy there sugar, what's goin' on?"

Mr. Dick-tater stroked his chin, continued to look down and mumbled, "Noey speaky Eng-lice."

"Bull crap, honey pot. I know for a fact that you have every episode of I Dream of Jeannie on DVD," I answered.

Shocked, Mr. Dick-tater, looked into my eyes, then stared at my chest, "No."

Trying to get his goat, I said, "You know that Gilligan played Hadji, the chief of the genies."

"Yes, but he was not Ammmurican pig dog. He was strong man," Mr. Dick-tater argued as he continued to stare at my chest.

"Pig dog? Ah, so you like Monty Python, too. See? You can speak English!" I said, and then looking down at my Dale Junior shirt, I asked, "What? You don't like NASCAR?"

"Puh, I fart in your general direction! Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries! You empty headed animal food trough wiper - you pick loser to wear on big bosom. I spit on Dill Jernerr - puh."

Grinning, I said, "Yer a Tony Stewart fan, ain't ya?"

"Puh," he spit back as he continued to look at my chest, "death to them all! Except for Rushty Wallace. He is real man. He deserve many virgins when he dies."

"Now Saddam, there's lots of folks out there - maybe even Rusty Wallace - that have a problem with you. Where are them weapons of mass destruction?" I asked.

He smiled at my chest and said nothing.

"Not gonna talk? Well, mayhap I can change yer mind, sweet thang!" I said as I pulled out my own weapon of mass destruction and set it on my chest.

Mr. Dick-tater shut his eyes and squawked, "By Allah - noooo!"

Fingering the ring on the top of my can of Spam, I asked, "Didja know that Spam is chopped pork shoulder meat with ham added?"

He screamed.

I popped open the can and ran my finger across the meat inside, "And by World War II, Hormel sold 20 thousand TONS of Spam because of war-time meat rationing?"

"Lies! Lies! Pork fat pig dog lies!" he yelled.

"Oh, and you'll love this," I said as I plopped the gelatinous meat cube into my hand, "Krushchev once credited Spam with the survival of the World War II Russian army?"

Crying he pleaded, "Ok! I'll talk! Please no more spamming me about Spam! My ears are bleeding!"

"OK, where are the weapons of mass destruction?" I asked as I took a large bite out of the Spam cube.

"They ... they're ..." he gasped, "I ... I sold them on eBay!"

Knowing that the Iraq Survey Group had already found massive evidence of a huge system of clandestine laboratories, work of scientists, and plans to develop long-range ballistic missiles, but no weapons, I asked, "Why sell them and not use them?"

Wiping sweat and tears from his hairy face, he admitted, "I ... I much wanted to get my own blonde genie virgin in bottle."

Hmm, that explains his IWantDoGenie eBay user id.

Leaving a broken and weeping Mr. Dick-tater behind, I let Colonel Flanders get the rest of the information.

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Copyright © 2003 SouthernAngel
Revised - 06/17/04