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PGH: Terrorist Blogging

I was just about to bite into a fresh-made Bavarian Cream Donut when I had a premonition. Somehow, I knew that this donut was not going to end well for me. And not just because it wasn’t on my diet. I did what I always do when I feel that sort of omen. I ignored it. I don’t believe in ESP anyway.

As I bit down into the confectionary delight, there was a soft click, and a muffled voice came from somewhere inside the pastry.

“Agent GEBIV, your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to find an example of a Islamo-terrorist blog and to report it back to the Alliance. If you are captured, we will do our best to rescue you, but as we are no longer allowed to use any, *ahem* ‘persuasion’ in our interrogations, don’t expect too much.

This message will self destruct… NOW!”

*SPLAT*

Man, that was the last Bavarian Cream in the shop. And this was the last Tim Hortons that I wasn’t blacklisted from.

As I wiped the cream and frosting from my face after being unceremoniously thrown out of the coffee shop, I realized that it was yet again time for another…

MISSION: IMPLAUSIBLE!
(Cue Theme Music)

Well, I thought, torture warnings aside, this should be a relatively safe mission. I figured that I would be able to do the whole thing from the security of my own home.

I was wrong.

Finding a terrorist website was easy enough. Google is a wonderful thing. (Hint: terrorist, blog, islam, death to Americans) The only problem was, all of the Islamo-terrorist websites were in Arabic. And I don’t read Arabic. (I have enough trouble with English most of the time.)

I copied the page that I had found and saved it to a different file. Then just to be safe, I printed out a hard copy. Now I was ready to find a translator.

I had tried babelfish, but no dice, I couldn’t figure out how to work the translation programs. It looked like I was going to have to find a human translator. A quick check of the yellow-pages showed several local people who did Mid-Eastern translations. After checking the references on several of them, I chose the one with none. I figured that the other companies were trying to trick me into using their services. Only people who are trying to hide something have that many people tell you how good they are.

When I finally found the office, it was on the top floor of a disused grain silo, way in the back. But it did have a great view of the Federal Building and City Hall. I had to kick a few rats out of the way as I walked down the hallway to the office, and mentally I berated myself for leaving Slinky (the wonder Ferret at) home. When I knocked on the door, I heard what sounded like someone saying “Hide t’e miziles.” I wonder what that means in English? I wondered. Sometimes I really wish I was multilingual.

The door opened, and I entered. The man I assumed to be the translator was standing behind a large crate on blocks he was covering with a tarp. I looked down at the person who had opened the door for me and saw a small copy of the translator.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” the man behind the crate said. “My name is Akhmed. I can translate any documents or papers you require. My diminutive friend standing next to you is Mini-Akhmed.”

“What does he do?” I asked.

“Mostly, he translates small things like notes, memos and Democrat Ethical Standards.”

I handed him the hardcopy I had prepared and he sat down and went to work. A half hour later, he handed me the translated copy.

The Evening Star of the Desert of the Tribes of the Nomads These are the Days of Our Jihad

Day 23
Momar is hogging the tent again. His prayer mat keeps coming over onto my side. Just because Most Holy Ka’amal favors him, he thinks he can push me around.

Day 25
Don’t have to worry about Momar pushing me around any more. He was overheard saying Most Holy Ka’amal was wrong about what soup to server with mutton. I’m just glad they put the stake with his head on it down wind.

Day 28
Most Holy Ka’amal made a speech today. In it, he said that Allah revealed to him that flies are the messengers of Allah. So now flies are holy and swatting them is a mortal sin. I guess that explains why Most Holy Ka’amal never bathes.

Day 40
Just got back from the mission Most Holy Ka’amal blessed us with. We wounded at least three of the infidels and only suffered minor losses to ourselves. Only 43 dead, praise Allah! Soon we will drive the dogs from our lands.

Day 45
Moving into a new camp higher in the mountains. I guess Most Holy Ka’amal didn’t like the view from the last camp because as we left he kept on muttering “I have to be able to see them coming…”

Day 51
Rained today. A miracle! Hopefully, this will help cut down on the holy messengers.

Day 63
Most Holy Ka’amal is giving another speech today. I wonder what he is going to name as holy this time…

As I finished reading the translation, I looked up to see Akhmed coming at me with a large knife.

“The holy messenger flies have ordered me to kill you,” he was saying as he lunged at me.

Startled, I jumped back, tripping over Mini-Akhmed. This knocked the hand grenade out of his hand, sending the pin flying in the process. The grenade rolled up to the large crate, stopping just under the corner of the tarp covering it.

“The missiles!” Akhmed shouted. He dove towards the crate and yanked the tarp off. This only caused the grenade to roll further under the crate.

Without giving it a second thought, I dove out of the nearest window. That second thought would have come in handy, as I now found myself hanging from a ledge high up on the abandoned grain silo. I looked down at the Buffalo River below and prayed that it was going to be deep enough. I let go of the ledge a split second before the top of the silo exploded. The last thing I remember before I hit the surface of the water was seeing a flaming Mini-Akhmed arc across the city skyline towards Lake Erie.

Some time later, I found myself lying on the shore of the river. I looked over and saw Slinky sitting there next to me drying himself off. As I sat there and stared at him, I could only think of three things.

One: When did Slinky learn how to swim?

Two: How did he find me?

And three: How am I going to get the taste of the Buffalo River out of my mouth?

Posted by GEBIV at June 2, 2004 08:55 PM