----------Correll, Creators Syndicate

President Bush showed up in Baghdad yesterday. He had wanted to meet with me to discuss his surrender, but unfortunately I wasn't able to fit him into my busy schedule. I'm sorry, but I think it's just incredibly rude, inconsiderate, and thoughtless to just show up unannounced like that and expect ME to drop everything!

The fact is that with all this constant moving around to elude capture, while at the same time trying to mount an effective insurgency against an unwelcome occupying force is quite time consuming. And that's not even including the hours upon hours I spend slaving over a hot laptop writing and researching this blog!

I told him to just call my secretary next time.

----------KAL, Baltimore Sun

It's not cheap living a life on the run. With all the constant necessities such as food, gas, tires, hotel rooms, bribes, and hookers, the overhead costs quickly accumulate. In going through my wallet this afternoon I realized I was almost out of money again.

Guess it's time to sell another of those sex tapes I secretly recorded of me and Paris Hilton.

----------KAL, Baltimore Sun

Well, this hardly seems fair. I just found out that Bush has pardoned a turkey, of all things. Apparently this is some sort of tradition that dates back to 1947. Now, please understand that I have nothing against tradition. Tradition gives continuity to an otherwise meaningless existence and serves to tie us to those who came before, and serves as a reminder that though these mortal shells in which we exist shall cease to do so someday, some things will live on.

You know, for a moment that previous sentence sounded like it was going to be incredibly profound....

Anyway, my point is that while some traditions are worthwhile, others are just plain stupid. And I'm sorry, and don't tell PETA I said this, but pardoning a damn bird is just plain stupid.

May I suggest that Bush start a new tradition? Every year, just before Thanksgiving, the President pardons a world renown ruthless dictator.

And I know just who I'd like to nominate as the first recipient....

----------Mike Peters, Dayton Daily News

Longtime followers of my propaganda.... Er, I mean, uh.... "Truthful teachings," already know that I despise Fox News, and that I have often suggested that perhaps their executives are borderline psychotics.

I wish to apologize for that. There is nothing "borderline" about those wackos.

Now I know that some of you are probably thinking that the reason I don't like Fox is that they don't like me. Well, that would be just plain downright petty on my part, wouldn't it? Kind of like the time I mailed a sack of camel droppings to Bill O'Reilly. Er, I mean, IF I were to ever have mailed.... Never mind.

My point is that it is not merely my own prejudices that have led me to conclude they're insane over there. I have actual, substantiated, unadulterated proof: They tried to sue themselves!

Apparently what happened is that The Simpsons--the one show on American TV that dares tell it like it is--did a parody of the Fox News crawler that they run at the bottom of the screen. The infidel idiots at Fox News argued that some people might mistake The Simpsons crawler for actual, real news items.

How preposterous is that? I mean, if people aren't stupid enough to believe the crawlers at the bottoms of the actual Fox News programs, why on Earth would they think The Simpsons ones are real?

----------Mike Thompson, Detroit Free Press

The Americans say they are trying to send a message by blowing up the houses of civilians. Well, I'd say they're succeeding in sending a message all right, but I have to wonder if it's the same one my people are receiving.

Then again, I shouldn't complain. It makes my citizens long for the good old days when all they had to worry about were my secret police kicking in the doors.

----------Tony Auth, Philadelphia Inquirer

Some group is now condemning our guerrilla attacks as being somehow in violation of "human rights."

Well, this is certainly an odd twist. Usually these type of goody-goody Berkeley-type liberals are just positively oozing with self-righteousness and are too busy condemning their own country's very existence to worry about the rest of the world.

I suppose I should feel honored!

----------Gary Varvel, Indianapolis Star

Interesting concept, this democracy. When necessary, you force it on people whether the majority wants it or not.

----------Jim Borgeman, Cincinatti Inquirer

Okay, let me distance myself from these most recent attacks in which rockets were launched from donky-carts. Now you must understand that while I provide inspiration to my valiant troops and provide them with general guidance, much of the actual day-to-day operational planning and project executions are left to others. I just show up for meetings, say a few words, smile, shake hands, plant manly kisses on other mens' cheeks, wave, and slit a throat or two. Then I'm outta there.

Think of Dilbert's boss, only with a mustache.

So that's why I'm saying I didn't know about the specifics of these latest attacks involving donkey carts. Please understand that while I am ambitious, I am also prudent.

I am not afraid to take on the full might of the United States military, and I consider the United Nations to be a bunch of wusses. However, one thing I will NOT do is piss off the PETA people.

Even I know my limitations.

That rash that had been on the inside of my thighs has now spread to my crotch, and it itches like crazy. Needless to say, I'm getting some very odd looks from other motorists as I drive by in my Vega.

But I'm just scratching myself.

Really.

I swear.

THis is an absolute outrage!!! Some Iraqi general I've never even heard of is claiming that I'm NOT the one behind the guerrilla insurgency. He claims that all the different groups are operating indepedent of one another.

What poppycock.

Next he'll be claiming that I'm not really driving around Iraq in a '73 Chevy Vega.

----------Mike Thompson, Detroit Free Press

President Whathisname of the United States has taken the opportunity of his visit to London to finally admit that the war against my peace mongering nation is "unpopular."

Gee, I wonder what gave it away? Perhaps the 1.5 million screaming protesters surrounding Buckingham Palace may have provided a subtle clue.

----------Oliphant

I see that freak Michael Jackson is back in the news. What a frikkin' weirdo.... I remember about 15 years ago he was in Baghdad to do a concert. I went backstage to introduce myself and caught that pervert molesting a goat!!!

Oh, wait.... Actually, there's nothing wrong with that.

Well, Bush is off to England. No doubt he and Tony Blair will be fighting over the lifeboat as their respective ships of state continue to list further and further to starboard.

Or is it to port?

No matter. What is important is that they should both have steered clear of the iceberg named "Iraq."

I think maybe I'm spending too much time just sitting in the car. I'm developing some sort of rash on the inside of my thighs.

----------Oliphant

President Bush has given an exclusive interview to Britain's rag, The Sun. This is the newspaper that prints photos of naked women on page three, a feature which is its only redeeming quality.

What makes this interview unusual, however, is that the American leader rarely grants such exclusive interviews, even to papers in his own country. Naturally, then, one would have to wonder why Bush would pick The Sun for such a rare exclusive.

Say, doesn't Rupert Murdock own The Sun? Why, yes, he does! And doesn't Murdoch also own Fox News, which has been a fiercely staunch supporter of this unfair act of aggression against me? Why, yes, he does! Could all this just be a wild coincidence, as opposed to some sort of returning of a favor?

If I were a suspicious man, I'd say Murdoch is still pissed about the time he caught me in the backseat of my Vega with his daughter.

----------Mike Luckovich, Atlanta Journal-Constitution

I have to hand it to Jessica Lynch. Her honesty and candor have gone a long way towards exposing the Bush administration's bungled manipulation of the truth.

Then again, not everyone can be an expert at manipulating the truth like me.

The United States has announced that it plans to turn over the administration of Iraq to its puppet governing council next summer. Of course, the reason for this accelerated timetable is that they're trying to get the hell out of here before Howard Dean is elected President next November.

The silly Americans remain under the delusion, however, that this country can exist peacefully with a democratically elected government. Now stop laughing; I'm being serious. People in the Bush administration actually believe that!! These are no doubt the same government officials who think Star Trek is a documentary.

There is, of course, no way democracy can take root here. We have too many ethnic groups that are suspicious of one another. The Kurds will always be trying to overthrow the Sunnis who will be trying to overthrow Shiites who will be trying to overthrow the Kurds. Peace? In the middle east? Not in our lifetimes, nor even in this particular 30 billion year cycle between the Big Bangs which create and ultimately destroy our universe.

As I'm sure all of you are aware, I have mentioned on several occasions that I sometimes dress as a woman to foil my pursuers. Now please understand that I take NO pleasure in this, and do it strictly to bedevil those who are after me.

Well, okay, maybe just a little teensy-weensy, teeny-tiny, itsy-bitsy bit of pleasure, but just in terms of breaking up the monotony of always wearing pants.

There's nothing sexual about it.

Well..... Never mind.

My point is that in addition to the frequent wardrobe changes, I have also undergone some, er, let us say, "cosmetic" surgery. My surgeon is an excellent doctor; in fact, Cher sees him every six months for her semi-annual tuneups.

Since many of you have been with me quite a while now, I thought I would let you see what I look like now. I am doing this as a gesture of good will only to my most loyal followers; don't let the CIA get their grubby little infidel hands on it.

-----Thanks to Tanakh613

I am deeply touched by all the recent outpouring of love, affection, and adulation being directed in my direction. First, Mr. Rumsfeld continues to express interest in meeting me. In fact, he has dispatched 125,000 emissaries to Iraq in an effort to track me down. Not an easy task, however, as my work requires I move around a lot. Then yesterday, someone sent me my very own link button! How touching is that?!? And now today, Norman Geras has published an interview which he recently conducted with yours truly as we cruised through the streets of Mosul looking for chicks. And while we didn't have any luck finding women, I did introduce Norm to the joys of goat sex:



1) You don't have to buy them dinner first.

2) They never ask to "just cuddle."

3) No constant yakking in your ear while you concentrate on channel surfing.

4) You don't have to remember to put the toilet back down.

5) And if the two of you ultimately decide to move in together, you don't have to worry about silly frou-frou crap like doilies and coasters.

6) A steady supply of healthy, lowfat goat milk.

I have many friends throughout the world, and not all of them are necessarily in Russia, France, Germany, or Berkeley. My good friend Brian at PerplexingTimes.com has prepared a special link button just for me. Those of you so inclined may add this to your own worthless sites.

I am sure this is nothing more than a blatant attempt on Brian's part to curry favor with me, but it worked. As a reward for his hard work, I shall give him five "keep your head for free" cards.

Click here if you need the code.

Now the Americans want to hold elections in my country next summer.

Fat chance.

The situation in Iraq at the moment is such that the only people cooperating with the unlawful agents of democracy are the ones with a death wish. That's how it works now, you know. An Iraqi man comes home early one day, catches his wife with the milkman, which would be highly unusual since we don't have cows, and decides life is no longer worth living. So what does he do? He goes out into the middle of the street and announces at the top of his lungs that he is going to begin cooperating with the Americans.

Granted, Doctor Kevorkian's methods were less messy, but the two techniques are equally effective.

My point is, who in their right mind is going to run for office? The members of the so-called Iraqi Governing Council, who to their credit haven't done squat so far, are essentially great big walking targets.

And how, exactly, is the voting going to be handled? Are they going to bring over those voting machines from Florida? Yeah, right. Even if they DO manage to hold an election, the results will be tied up in court till 2006.

But that's okay, because by then Howard Dean will be halfway through his first term as President.

People are beginning to figure out that, hey, maybe that rascal Saddam has a strategy after all, and that these supposedly unorganized attacks are actually part of a master plan!

Well, DUH!!!

The beauty of what's happening now is that the more the occupiers crack down in an effort to stop the attacks, the more my people start to realize that "good ol' Saddam wasn't all that bad after all. Yeah, sure, occasionally family members who dared speak out against him would disappear, suffer odd accidental deaths in pits filled with cobras, or have their tongues cut out, but at least we had running water and reliable electricity. These clowns from across the ocean, on the other hand, can't even keep their own damn power on back in the States!!"

Wonderful news, everyone!! Now the Central Infidel Agency itself has come out with a report saying that my people are losing faith in the Americans!! This shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone, though. I mean, I think pretty much everyone at some point or another has experienced houseguests who overstay their welcome and refuse to catch the hint that it's time to leave.

We've dropping subtle hints ourselves for the last six months, and so far, our unwanted "guests" are still here. They are a playful bunch, however, as they insist on engaging me in a game of hide & seek.

And so far, I'm winning.

----------Walt Handelsman, Newsday

One of the world's richest men, George Soros, has given almost $15 million of his own money towards the defeat of George Bush. He goes as far as to call the present administration to world peace. And quite frankly, from where I'm sitting (the corner of Thawra and Kifa Streets in Baghdad), I would tend to agree with him.

By the way, Soros is Hungarian. Wonder if he knows that Lugosi guy?

Remind me to put him on my Christmas card list.

President Bush is concerned that religious fanatics want to take over Iraq. This is rather ironic, since it is Bush himself who is seeking to turn the United States into a christian theocracy.

Bush's concern, however, is that Islamic extremists are seeking to take control of my country. And as much as I hate to say it, I have to agree with him for once: Letting the nutcases take over would be a bad idea. And do I need to point out yet again that we wouldn't have this problem if a certain superpower hadn't come in here and started screwing with the status quo in the first place? But N-O-O-o-o-o-O-O-O-o-o-o!!!!! Bush just coudn't leave well enough alone, could he?

Tell you what, Mr. Bush: Let me return to power, and I'll take care of the nutty Shiites once and for all.

Of course, that would entail the use of my non-existent weapons of mass destruction....

Is it possible to lose a war by winning badly? Richard Hart Sinnreich certainly seems to think so, and makes an interesting argument that that is precisely what the Americans are doing in Iraq.

Still, his thinking is flawed in one key aspect: He seems to say that the United States should have come into my country with overwhelming force and completely crushed us.

On the other hand, I of course prefer to think that the invaders did, in fact, hit us with everything they had, and that they simply were no match for my far superior forces. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I have emerged triumphant from this conflict.

Okay, technically speaking, I'm not quite completely triumphant.

Yet.

But I will be soon.

Well, maybe not soon, but eventually.

Question: How do you keep an infidel in suspense?

----------Bill Day, Memphis Commercial Appeal

I'm looking forward to tonight's lunar eclipse, which should be starting in just a few hours.

It is at times such as this when I get just a bit philosophical about life.... When one looks around at all the bickering here on Earth, and then looks up at the heavens and considers the vastness of it all, and the finely tuned celestial mechanics that keep everything in motion, and the delicate balancing act between gravity and centrifugal force that keeps planets from plunging into one another, THAT'S when one begins to realize what is truly important in this vast universe of ours.

And what's important at the moment is NOT frikkin' Jupiter's orbital path, but repelling these stinking invading hordes seeking to shove freedom and democracy on an innocent nation that has never hurt anyone.... Recently.

Still, it's nice to take an occasional break from our valiant struggle to reimpose oppression on ourselves by gazing heavenward. And if you decide to do the same, be careful not to look at the moon directly during the eclipse or it will ruin your night vision. It is safest to view it through a smoked lens of some sort.

Or do what I do: Grab yourself an unarmed Shiite refugee and shove the barrel of your grenade launcher into the nape of his neck and have him describe the eclipse to you.

Works for me every time.

Anyone who continues to doubt that Bush was hellbent on attacking me should read this article about how he rebuffed my last minute olive branch. Granted, I had made dozens of deals and promises over the years that I broke as soon as it was convenient. But this time it was different, mainly because I was surrounded by 150,000 American troops. So I was quite probably in all likelihood maybe possibly more or less kind of fully prepared to live up to any new commitments I might have made. At least until the troop strength dropped back down below 50,000.

Really.

I swear.

Cross my heart and hope to.... Well, never mind.

Remember last fall and winter when all the anti-war demonstrators were saying Bush was going to attack me so that his friends could profit from rebuilding my country?

Well, turns out they were right.

Uh-oh....

Martie Maguire of the Dixie Chicks is pregnant.... With twins.

That means I now have TWO reasons to remain in hiding: First, to elude capture and certain death at the hands of the foreign freedom obsessed occupiers; second, to avoid having to pay child support.

On the other hand, I do have a couple of openings for new sons....

----------Mike Peters, Dayton Daily News

In a most odd development, the Los Angeles Times has banned the use of the term "resistance fighters" when referring to my, um, well, resistance fighters. This really doesn't make sense. The paper is located right in the heart of the Saddam Triangle, which stretches from San Diego to San Francisco to Berkely to Oakland.

Granted, that may seem like an odd shape for a triangle, but I am a dictator, and therefore it is only fair that I decide what qualifies as geometry around here.

Kapiche?

The Times is apparently concerned that the term resistance fighters somehow "romanticizes" those still loyal to me. Well, I would have to disagree with that. Have you ever smelled an Iraqi male who's been out in the desert for two months without a shower? Trust me when I say there ain't nuthin' romantic about it, okay?

Besides, what else would you call someone who is actively opposed to a foreign occupying power hellbent on unjustly imposing freedom and democracy on a people who clearly prefer a brutal dictatorship?

I saw Matrix: Revolutions this afternoon. Caught the very first showing of it at 5 PM our time. Quite frankly, I'm not sure of the logic behind opening it worldwide at 9 AM EST (United States time). That was already 2 AM at the International Dateline, which is the number I always call for dates with foreign chicks. Why does everything always have to revolve around New York? Why couldn't it open at, say, 9 AM Tikrit time? Once again, the scheduling of this movie is yet another example of the United States imposing its will upon the rest of the world.

Anyway, I was surprised the theater wasn't more crowded. I'm guessing most people were at home working on car bombs. The movie was quite good; certainly much better than Matrix: Rebooted, or whatever the hell the second one was called. The only part that really dragged was towards the end, when Neo and Trinity have a sappy "I love you; No, I love you more" scene. This, of course, is going on even as people are being slaughtered by the thousands in Zion.

Such drivel.

But the theater experience, as always, disgusted me. First of all, I kept having to change seats every ten minutes to foil my pursuers. But then I also had to put with crying babies (who the hell brings a frikkin' baby to an R-rated film!?!), crunching popcorn, peoples' heads blocking the screen, crinkling cellophane wrappers, broken seats, and kids tossing Raisonettes at one another. Even worse, at one point, my combat boots got stuck to the damn floor!! Then again, I have to accept the fact that Iraq is still essentially a third world country; I'm sure movie theaters in a fully developed nation like the United States are much nicer.

So I do recommend the film, provided you've seen the first two. Otherwise, you'll be as lost as the American intelligence services.

And yes, the fight scenes--as always--are great. They should be, since I'm the one who taught Keanu Reeves all those fancy martial arts moves. Especially the parts where they cartwheel across the ceiling (gravity is for sissies).

And before you ask: No, we never dated.

----------Mike Ramirez, LA Times

William Raspberry has written an interesting opinion piece. It talks about an old legend that says African tribesmen used to trap monkeys by cutting small holes in coconuts. Then they would fill the coconuts with rice or some other food which appeals to the monkeys.

The little fellows would then come along and squeeze their open paws through the opening. They would grasp the rice inside BUT--and this the hilarious part--then find themselves unable to remove their now closed fist from the hole. So the monkey is now stuck!

Of course, all he has to do is open his fist and he would be able to extract his open paw. But that would also mean giving up the rice, and they're unwilling to do that!

Raspberry's point is that I'm a monkey and Bush is a coconut.... No, wait.... I think I'M supposed to be the coconut and BUSH is the monkey.... Yes, that would seem to make more sense.

And, of course, my oil is like the rice. Bush has his fist around it, but he's stuck inside the coconut of Iraq, and unwilling to loosen his grip on my oil. All in all, HIGHLY ironic situation!!

Hold on.... I just got an IM from Alanis Morissette. Let me see what she wants....

Okay, here's the deal: Alanis says the coconut story is NOT irony. It's actually something called a "metaphor." Whatever. I always thought metaphors were those rocks that fell from space. I'll just pretend I know what she's talking about. That always worked when we were dating.

Anyway, in the meantime maybe I can distract Bush with a banana long enough to get my coconut back.

----------Bill Day, Memphis Commercial Appeal
(Thanks to Vaiday Subbaraman for sending it in)

I have to hand it to the Washington Post. They actually get a story or two right on occasion. They have finally figured out why I never launched a serious counterattack: I believed my French and Russian buddies when they said I could easily survive a land invasion by the US.

I suppose that in a strictly technical and narrowly defined legal sense, they were right. I'm still alive!

----------Wasserman, Boston Globe

On Halloween, I made brief mention of the Legend of Camelman. One of my many legions of readers, a Mr. Bill, left a comment asking me to more fully explain the story. Now, as a busy despot struggling to reclaim my country so that I can get back to the important business of slaughtering various ethnic groups, I don't usually have time for requests. In fact, merely talking to me can get you killed. However, Mr. Bill amuses me at times, much like a gay animal trainer in fancy clothes amuses a tiger. Uh.... Not that I'm gay, you understand. That was just intended as an example.

However, I'm in a good mood tonight. Therefore, I have decided to share with you, my beloved infidel readers...

The Legend of Camelman

When I was growing up, and even as a young, studly man baggin' babes left and right, I used to hear stories about some half-man, half-camel creature known as "Camelman." Supposedly this beast prowled the desert of northwestern Iraq, occassionally feasting on unsuspecting good looking teenagers foolishly caught in the throes of unbridled hormonal passion. But I, as all other well educated Iraqi citizens (both of them) dismissed the tales as fables concocted by superstitious villagers to keep the kids in line. However, I would soon learn that it was I who was ignorant....



It was late 1973 when I was on a date with Barbara Streisand. We were in the backseat of my brand new Chevy Vega while parked at the Tikrit Drive-In Cinema and Drafthouse. All of a sudden, Babs jumped up and said she thought she heard something.



Well, I'm busy rounding third base and heading for home plate, so of course I'm going to tell her that I didn't hear anything, so put your hand back where it was.



No sooner did I start my slide in for the score, that the car began rocking back & forth, up & down, and side to side. Meanwhile, she's screaming at the top of her lungs, "OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD...." Needless to say I was feeling pretty darn proud of my performance.... At least until I realized I wasn't the one rocking the car... OR Barbara!



I looked up only to see some hideous apparition with a furry face, big ears, and a great big hump on his back clawing at the windows! Well, I immediately yelled and reached for my gun, but the man-beast galloped off into the night before I could shoot my load.



Er, the load in my gun, I mean.



So a few years later, after I had come to power, I kept hearing the tales about Camelman. It continued to terrorize the people in the area between Baghdad, Tikrit, and Fallujah, and my fellow Sunnis were begging me to help. Of course, my aids all thought these people were nuts, and I couldn't let on that I knew the stories were true. Plus, we were at war with Iran, so I couldn't just order my generals to go chasing after some myth. Well, I guess I could have, but then they'd start talking behind my back, and I'd have to launch a purge, and execute dozens of previously loyal underlings. And going into a war, I frankly didn't need the distraction.



So in September of '81 I recruited 18 students from Baghdad's Kadhimya High School to go look for Camelman. Well, except I kind of lied. First time in my life, too. I told them it was part of some sort of science project. I calculated that if they disappeared, then I'd have an excuse to send military units up there to search for them.... And for anything else... "suspicious."



Needless to say, they vanished without a trace.



So I began sending army units into the area. But they, too, would either disappear entirely, or else turn up dead horribly mutilated.



Meanwhile, I'm trying to fight a frikkin' war with Iran, so my resources were somewhat limited. Yet, I also couldn't just ignore the Camelman problem. If he had been victimizing Kurds or Shiites, I wouldn't have given a crap. But this... "thing" was eating my fellow Sunni Muslims. We were already a minority of the population, so I could ill afford to keep losing supporters. Plus, I shrewdly realized that if I got rid of Camelman once and for all, the people of the "Sunni Triangle" would be forever indebted to me. After all, one never knows when one might need to go into hiding for an extended period of time....



So the last week of October, I decided to go after Camelman myself. Nothing happened the first few nights, but on the 31st, I heard a strange noise outside my tank. I peeked outside, and sure enough, it was HIM!!!



But before I could react, Camelman ripped the main barrel right off the turret and ate it. Hoping for reinforcements, I immediatly started driving towards Fallujah with him right behind me. Then, on the outskirts of the city, the stupid tank ran out of gas! I scrambled out the safety hatch just as he began tearing the turret to shreds. I bravely began lobbing grenades at the creature, but Camelman just ate those as well. I tried firing a few mortar rounds at him, but he was still hungry.



I briefly toyed with the idea of taming Camelman and starting an animal act in Vegas, but that dream disappeared in a puff of reality when the beast devoured my machine gun. It was at this point, seemingly face to face with the instrument of my death, that I vowed to never again be caught without a supply of weapons of mass destruction.



My eyes gaught the gleam of my sword amid the tattered remains of my tank. It had only recently been forged from special steel in Japan by a retired Samurai Master. And for the skeptics among you, I'm actually quite good with a sword. Who do you think taught Uma Thurman her technique in Kill Bill? That's right; it was me. Back when the two of us were dating, of course. But I digress....



In a bold move, I somersaulted over his head, performing a dramatic slow-motion triple backflip in midair for no discernable reason except that it looked really cool, and landed behind Camelman. He swung at me wildly with his tail, but I deftly avoided it by cartwheeling across the ground. In one smooth move I grabbed my sword, lept to my feet, and ran up the wall of a nearby three story building to the roof. From there. I saw a telephone cable directly over the now thoroughly confused creature's head and jumped. Grabbing the cable with one hand and holding the sword in the other, I sliced through the thick wire like it was butter. I swung down towards Camelman, and blindly swung the blade.



As I landed in a cloud of dust just down the street, I turned just in time to see the beast's head fall to the ground and roll down a storm drain. The rest of the body stood there motionless for a moment, then toppled forward and landed with a dull thud in the dirt.



And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the end of Camelman.

Epilogue

Stories persist to this day that the ghost of Camelman appears every Halloween and wanders the streets of Fallujah searching for his missing head. However, in 22 years, there has never been another documented attack by the creature.

Sorry. Don't have time to update today. I'm tied up at the Baghdad Kinko's printing fliers. In the meantime, amuse yourselves with the following:



Non-Sequitur--by Wiley