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The morning came. The sun, in all its glory arose, and somewhere in the distance a cock crowed. Morning in Iraq, there isn't a spot on Earth where this old Republican warrior would rather be.
Our tiny shelter - made of plywood, adobe mud bricks, and used government issue plastic - has been our home away from home for quite some time. As I arose from my slumber I looked around our humble abode, and then at my fellow warrior, Colonel M. Pooner Dawgivich.
I watched as he also awakened to another Iraqi day. I watched as Pooner stretched, yawned, toyed with his tiny purple-headed warrior, and farted.
"Happy anniversary!" I stated as I handed him a biscuit with 3 lit candles atop of it. Colonel Pooner, the most manly of men, looked at the gift I offered and began to sob.
"3 years......lordy.....where did the time go? I guess it's true when they say time flies when you are having fun. 3 years, Morty, I just can't believe that it has been 3 years." Colonel Pooner then broke down and cried like a little school girl that just had her nipples yanked by the class bully. It was then that the candles burned all the way down and the biscuit caught fire.
Colonel Pooner's Kurd "mamma-san" awoke from the bed she shared with him. She spoke no English, just blabbered that Kurd bullshit. She was somewhat surpised to see her manly man - Colonel Pooner - crying like a Shi'ite girl during Ramadan. She jabbered something in her native Kurd tongue, hugged Pooner tightly, and then she disrobed. Pooner quit his crying, and then proceded to mount her again.
I pulled-up the old wooden, three-legged, stool so I could watch them coagulate. I was in awe of my friend and fellow warrior as he toiled atop her. I thought about all the good times he and I had shared in this war. I thought about all the times we laughed, cried, pooped, peed, mounted Kurd women, banged Shi'ite women, and the numerous blowjobs we received from the Sunni women. Ah, those times are etched into the neurons of my mind.
"That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him. In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of hearts. As I do thee - something too much of this...." I quoted from Shakespeare's Hamlet, as I reached over and held the old Kurd woman's hand, while Colonel Pooner entered into the short-rows of his grinding a top her. She smiled at me, even though she didn't know what the hell I was saying to her.
Then, Colonel Pooner's face wretched, every muscle in his body shook, and the look of stupidity was upon him. "In coming!" He yelled as his moment had come. He rolled off in a total bliss, and I then climbed on top of her and soon, I was in full motion as well. I too, would soon have that look of stupidity that every man gets when his time draws near and the seeds of freedom are dispersed.
"Morty, look - all the people have gathered for their daily water ration. That my friend is something one never saw during those years of torture under Saddam." Colonel Pooner said as he pointed. I nodded my head in the affirmative.
It's funny, you never see the sight of Iraqis coming together on the evening news. You never hear about Iraqis listening to the water pipes trying hear when the water is turned so they can run down to the villiage to get their pots filled with water. No, things like that show togetherness, teamwork, a nation coming together, but it won't be shown or told on the liberal news outlets back home.
We drove on down to another part of Baghdad and we witnessed the jubilation of the people when the electricity came on in their part of town for 2 hours. Lights were ablaze in their homes, children could read their school books, men could turn-on their televisions to watch porno via a satellite dish, and Iraqi women could run their vaccum cleaners.
"Morty, look," Colonel Pooner whispered as he motioned for me to peek inside an Iraqi family window. I joined my fellow warrior, and I too became a voyeur of Iraqis watching porno. "That is really something to see. The power will only be on for 2 hours, but inside this Iraqi's house that 2 hours will be a pleasure. You didn't see shit like this when that devil Saddam ran the country! Freedom can be messy in the most beautiful way." Colonel Pooner added, as he quietly, reached down inside his army trousers and played with himself.
Colonel Pooner and I drove on down through the streets and we noticed a protest being held. Demostrators were all yelling and carrying signs.
"Sign - sign - sign, everywhere a sign.." I said, remembering an old rock song from the Vietnam era. I then pulled out my trusty video camera and recorded what I could of the Iraqis that were there. I wanted to make sure that Iraqis that protested against President Bush were documented, and that they would be interrogated later by us.
"You sure wouldn't see a protest during Saddam's mad reign." Colonel Pooner remarked, as I documented the Iraqis. I nodded my head in the affirmative, and continued to video those that were Un-Iraqi and Un-American.
"New roads, new schools, new playgrounds -all of these things have come to you, thanks to President Bush." I said as I stood on top of our Halliburton supplied Olds 98 staff car. Some fifty Iraqis' had gathered around as I spoke to them via a megaphone. I could tell by the look on their Arab faces, that they were not grasping my words. I looked around at Colonel Pooner for help; for I knew that if anyone-anybody, could get through to these Arabs it would be the Rasputin of repartee. He gladly climbed on top of our Olds and took the megaphone from my manly hands.
"Great white President Bush boo-coo number one! He say, freedom isn't free, but he love you long time." Colonel Pooner remarked loudly to each of those Iraqis. I was in total awe at Colonel Pooner's command of the Iraqi lanuage, and his command of the customs. I could tell that the Iraqis were impressed by him; for they got real quiet and they showed Colonel Pooner their purple, middle finger.
"President Bush has said, America will be your friend as long as the grass grow and oil flow. He great white father, him boo-coo number one! He makie-makie...ah..um..ah.. a promise not to stay in your land one day longer than it takes. Him love you long time! Democracy is coming to 'Raqi. Many 'Raqis vote, many 'Raqis buy cell phones, many 'Raqis watch satellite t.v.s, and 'Raqi have happy hunting ground! Evil American press people say, 'Raqi not know freedom, but evil American press boo-coo loco! 'Raqi know freedom, he not break into civil war, fool evil American press. 'Raqi be good 'Raqi and do what President Bush says. Him so horny for 'Raqis!" Colonel Pooner added to the crowd.
It was then, as Colonel Pooner prepared to step down, that a 'Raqi man came forward, and proceeded to curse Colonel Pooner. I knew, that 'Raqi was cursing the wrong person; for Colonel Pooner was a black-belt in karate, black-belt in Jujitsu, and a black-belt in Kama- Sutra.
I watched Colonel Pooner as he finally had enough of the old 'Raqi's curse words. I watched as Colonel Pooner drew back his fist, swung a mighty swing with his fist at the old 'Raqi's head. It was a mighty round house right from Pooner, but the 'old 'Raqi ducked, and Pooner fell from the Olds' hood, tumbled hard upon the ground, and laid spread eagle on the ground. It was then, the old 'Raqi sucker punched Pooner with a swift, face numbing kick to Pooner's head.
I watched for about 20 minutes and the 'Raqi continued to sucker-punch Colonel Pooner with his feet, fist, an iron pipe, and a 2X4 board.
"Alright! He's had enough!" I yelled as I got in between the old 'Raqi and Colonel Pooner. I picked my fellow warrior from off the ground, took my handkerchief and wiped the blood off of his old, bald, bulbous head.
"I blame the media for this." Colonel Pooner choked out, and then he spit-up blood, his eyes rolled as he pissed on himself, farted, and prepared to be lifted to his feet.
"Just an old 'Raqi that didn't get the message of freedom. Just an old 'Raqi that is a part of the nay-sayers!" I said as I helped the battered, bruised Colonel Pooner into the Olds.
"3 years isn't that long...." Colonel Pooner said, right before he shit his pants and passed-out.
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