<\/p>\n
Published 9\/11\/03<\/p>\n
Oscar bin Laden: Archives and discussion at http:\/\/www.greatsociety.org\/forums\/index.php?topic=1241.0<\/p>\n
——–<\/p>\n
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PICK YOUR 9\/11 UPDATE!<\/p>\n
Oscar and Nacho Discuss Semantics in this discarded rough draft.<\/p>\n
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I was staring at a blank page, wondering if it would be considered a literary masterpiece if I put my whiskey glass on the tilde key and walked away for five minutes, when I saw a bearded man in a dirty turban outside my window.\u00a0 I\u2019m not usually concerned about such things, but it was the eve of 9\/11 and I had signed up for my Suburban Neighborhood Watch program.\u00a0 Up till now, the only thing we Neighborhood Watch officers had to do was chase black people and suffragettes away.\u00a0 After some consideration, though, I figured Muslims were equally threatening for the property values.\u00a0 So I grabbed my sharpened broom handle and crept out into the backyard.<\/p>\n
Almost immediately, I was tackled by a frantic Oscar bin Laden, infamous Texas Billionaire and longtime friend of Greatsociety.org.\u00a0 He was covered in filth and talking like a man on weird, exotic drugs, screaming something that sounded like, \u201cBy Allah\u2019s brown back hair!\u00a0 Is Emeril Live on yet?\u00a0 I can\u2019t miss it again!\u00a0 I need to exchange my Euros!\u00a0 I don\u2019t have any Euros!\u00a0 Are these Euros!\u201d<\/p>\n
It was like some sort of modern interpretation of a Talking Heads song.\u00a0 I pushed him off of me and whacked him on the head with the blunt end of the broom handle.\u00a0 That seemed to calm him down.<\/p>\n
Rubbing his forehead with the palm of his hand, he looked up with glazed eyes, \u201cOh, Nacho, thank Allah!\u00a0 I think that fucking hooker slipped me some angel dust.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCan I ask what you\u2019re doing here?\u201d I hissed.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou can ask!\u201d He said, laughing hysterically.\u00a0 I hit him again with the broom handle and he shut up as if I had flipped a switch.\u00a0 \u201cSorry, Nach.\u00a0 I figured I\u2019d crash at your place, since the Hooker\u2019s house is just down the street.\u00a0 I\u2019m in no shape to drive.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThere\u2019s no hookers in this neighborhood,\u201d I said, glancing around at the azaleas and the always-silent Japanese Maple.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre no.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWho\u2019s that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, I was\u2014\u201d\u00a0 Oscar shook his head, \u201cAnyway, there is one just down the street.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo hookers, no blacks, no suffragettes,\u201d I aimed the sharp end of the broom handle at his chest, \u201cAnd no bloody wogs.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat the hell\u2019s the matter with you?\u201d<\/p>\n
I stood at attention, hand over my heart, \u201cDrumelda Hills Neighborhood Watch!\u00a0 Officer 16, Nacho Sasha!\u201d<\/p>\n
Before I could take a breath, though, my legs were swept out from under me and I hit the ground hard.\u00a0 When I woke up, I was on a concrete floor, echoing water all around, a ceiling high above.\u00a0 Oscar stepped into view and looked down at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cSorry about that, Nacho, but you were acting kooky.\u201d<\/p>\n
I sat up, confused but certainly with a clearer head.\u00a0 \u201cWhat is this place?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cA way station.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWeigh station?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, no.\u00a0 A way station.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, that\u2019s what I said.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, no, you said \u2018weigh.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRight.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s way, not weigh.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWay, like away, not weigh like weight.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh.\u00a0 But it sounds the same.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo it doesn\u2019t, there\u2019s a slight difference.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo there\u2019s not.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLook, Nacho, I have another reason for bringing you here.\u00a0 As you know, tomorrow is the second anniversary of September 11th<\/sup>.\u00a0 I thought, maybe, you and I could work on something.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, I can\u2019t write anymore.\u00a0 It dried up because of that stupid Livejournal account and my impossible and forbidden attraction to an insane Dr. Who fan in Scotland.\u201d<\/p>\n Oscar shrugged, \u201cAll that aside, I want you to write for me.\u00a0 The first part is simple.\u00a0 I\u2019ve been writing a song, and I need you to help with a verse.\u00a0 It goes like this:\u00a0 I could while away the hours\/Conferrin’ with the flowers\/Consultin’ with the rain.\/And my head I’d be scratchin’ \/While my thoughts were busy hatchin’\u2026\u00a0 So what should come after that?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n I blinked for a moment, not sure if he was having a go at me or not.\u00a0 \u201cUm\u2026 How about <\/span>\u2018If I only had a brain\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBy Allah\u2019s brown back hair!\u201d he shouted, \u201cYou\u2019re brilliant!\u00a0 And that rhymes with \u2018rain,\u2019 too!\u201d\u00a0 He pulled out a worn notepad like you see cops in old movies\u00a0 use and scribbled the lyrics down, then he sighed contentedly and sat down next to me.\u00a0 \u201cYou\u2019ll never lose that touch, Nacho.\u00a0 See how that just leapt into your head?\u201d He snapped his fingers, \u00a0\u00a0\u201cYou\u2019re a born literary giant.\u00a0\u00a0 Now, about 9\/11.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI was thinking of doing a Dickens thing.\u201d I replied.\u00a0 \u201cGeorge Bush as Marley, you playing the Ghosts of 9\/11 Past and Present, Ali and the Boys as the Ghosts of 9\/11 Future.\u201d<\/p>\n He nodded and pursed his lips, \u201cIt\u2019s good.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut it wasn\u2019t working.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat was wrong?\u201d<\/p>\n I shrugged, \u201cI wanted to watch Dr. Who episodes, play Freelancer, read a book, fuck around online.\u00a0 I just didn\u2019t have the jazz.\u00a0 I was tired from work, feeling sinus yuck.\u00a0 Total monster distraction.\u00a0 I\u2019ll be honest, I feel like I need a month away from writing.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFinish the novel?\u201d Oscar laughed.<\/p>\n I made a disgusted sound and rolled my eyes.<\/p>\n \u201cYep.\u00a0 Burnout central.\u00a0 Total focus.\u00a0 Happens to me when I finish a novel.\u00a0 You need three weeks, no writing.\u00a0 So do it after 9\/11, then.\u00a0 Take a breather.\u00a0 For now,\u00a0 back to the Dickens thing.\u201d<\/p>\n I looked sideways at him, \u201cYou had a novel?\u201d<\/p>\n He shrugged modestly, \u201cWell, a few.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA few? Well, what\u2019s the most recent?\u201d<\/p>\n He shrugged again, \u201cI\u2019m Mary Higgins Clark.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGet out!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, they thought it was a better name than Oscar bin Laden.\u00a0 Especially after the whole 76 Olympics thing.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat was you guys?\u201d<\/p>\n He raised his hands defensively, \u201cI\u2019m just the idea man!\u00a0 I\u2019ve told you that!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou all are a bunch of cunts.\u201d<\/p>\n Oscar sighed, \u201cOkay, if you were to casually say \u2018Wouldn\u2019t it be neat if someone blew up the FBI building\u2019 and then it happened, would you be responsible?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf I was bankrolling the bomber, yeah.\u201d<\/p>\n Oscar stood up, \u201cYou\u2019re splitting hairs, Nacho.\u00a0 As always.\u00a0 Now look, the Dickens thing.\u201d<\/p>\n I leaned back on the concrete floor and thought for a moment, \u201cSo after the Ghosts, I wake up on 9\/11 and lean out the window.\u00a0 A boy is passing by and I call down to him, asking what day it is.\u00a0 He say\u2019s it\u2019s the eleventh, right?\u00a0 So I mutter to myself how great it is that I didn\u2019t miss the day, then I flip the boy a billfold stuffed with hundred dollar bills and tell the boy to go to the market and get me the largest tank of jet fuel he can find.\u201d<\/p>\n After about half a second, Oscar started laughing until tears burst from his eyes.\u00a0 He was on the floor again, gasping, before he could speak again, \u201cYou\u2019re brilliant!\u00a0 That\u2019s cutting edge!\u201d<\/p>\n Smiling and, honestly, feeling pretty good about the idea, I leaned forward and grabbed Oscar\u2019s arm, \u201cAnd, and, there was this scene with the Ghosts of 9\/11 Future where we go 25 years forward and they show me a newspaper, right?\u00a0 And there\u2019s an article about me, right?\u00a0 So I grab the paper and do the old gag where I read a tiny unrelated article in the bottom corner, like, oh my God, laser eye surgery causes brain cancer\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n Oscar, still laughing, slapped his knee, \u201cBrain cancer! \u00a0Oh, perfect!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo then Future rips it out of my hand after this tirade about laser eye surgery and points at the headline, which is about how I was murdered by a lynch mob after I raped and torture-murdered an entire Boy Scout troop\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n Oscar abruptly stopped laughing, \u201cDude, that\u2019s not funny.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHey,\u201d I said, putting my hands up, \u201cI\u2019m just the idea man.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell,\u201d Oscar said, \u201cI think you should write it.\u00a0 I mean, except for the torture murder and the rape and\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, no, raping little boys is sort of part of it.\u201d I replied.\u00a0 \u201cOh, and there\u2019s also this whole shtick in the future where this guard asks me for my ID and I say I left it on my dresser, and then he starts to ask something else and I keep repeating \u2018I left it on the dresser\u2019 and don\u2019t let him get more than two words out for, like, an entire page.\u00a0 Then he finally gets upset and lets me go.\u201d<\/p>\n Oscar thought about it, \u201cI think I\u2019d have to see it in print.\u201d<\/p>\n I wrinkled my nose and shook my head, biting my lower lip, \u201cNo, huh?\u00a0 Think it might be too much.\u201d<\/p>\n Oscar shrugged, \u201cNo, really, I need to see it.\u201d<\/p>\n I sat silently with Oscar for a few minutes, running the 9\/11 Dickens Remembrance Special through my head, then I sighed and tried not to think about falling asleep, \u201cSo, what was your idea?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI tell you, I can\u2019t beat the Dickens thing.\u201d<\/p>\n I nodded and stood up, then helped Oscar up.\u00a0 \u201cSo what are you doing tomorrow?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMe?\u00a0 I don\u2019t know.\u00a0 Sears Tower, I guess.\u201d\u00a0 He looked hard at me, then laughed, \u201cThere we go!\u00a0 Scared the Dickens out of you, right!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAh-ha!\u201d I wagged a finger at him.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[352],"tags":[353,193],"class_list":["post-2599","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-gsarchive","tag-gs-archive-2004-2008","tag-oscar-bin-laden"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2599","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2599"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2599\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2668,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2599\/revisions\/2668"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2599"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2599"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2599"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}