<\/p>\n
Published October 2004<\/p>\n
Oscar bin Laden: Archives and discussion at http:\/\/www.greatsociety.org\/forums\/index.php?topic=1241.0<\/p>\n
——<\/p>\n
My old friend James threw the Washington Post across the room.\u00a0 \u201cGod, that paper gives me a headache.\u201d\u00a0 He looked over at me, \u201cWhy the hell don\u2019t you get into journalism?\u00a0 You really should be writing for the people, Nacho.\u00a0 Your talents are squandered on the likes of Great Society.\u201d<\/p>\n
I was staring at a card with three wavy lines, trying to guess the color of the pattern on the other side.\u00a0 \u201cGrey, hatch pattern.\u201d<\/p>\n
James tore the card out of my hand, \u201cThey\u2019re all grey, hatch patterns!\u00a0 You\u2019re supposed to guess what\u2019s on this side!\u201d He held the three wavy lines up to my face.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh.\u201d\u00a0 I muttered.\u00a0 \u201cThree wavy lines.\u201d<\/p>\n
James shouted and flipped the card across the room.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t have the heart to, you know, work.\u201d\u00a0 I said.\u00a0 \u201cI mean at professional writing.\u00a0 Journalism or what have you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re always writing, though.\u00a0 You constantly write nonsense stories.\u00a0 Drunk, sober, on the plane, on the train,\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI do not want to, Sam I am.\u201d<\/p>\n
James shrugged, \u201cYou\u2019d do well at a paper\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAll American papers suck.\u201d<\/p>\n
James rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue, \u201cOh, here we go.\u00a0 You and the newspapers.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, really, nothing beats the Worker\u2019s Daily that came out of 1980\u2019s Romania.\u00a0 Everything you needed to know about the benevolent Ceausescu government in eight, easy to read pages.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know something?\u00a0 Everything about you just screams \u2018Lock me up.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n
Oscar strode into the room, flanked by Ali and the boys.<\/p>\n
\u201cHere\u2019s fuckface,\u201d James said, grinning widely at Oscar.<\/p>\n
\u201cMarch of the Swivelheads,\u201d I muttered.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh!\u201d James flashed an admiring look in my direction, \u201cObscurity.\u201d<\/p>\n
After several weeks of giving beer to non-active voters, Oscar had moved on to more important matters \u2013 namely, organizing Team Oscar 04.\u00a0 There was myself, court biographer and scribe.\u00a0 James had been brought on because he was a whiz with the numbers.\u00a0 Rita Sullivan, the sea chantress who had so dominated the evening of Oscar\u2019s presidential announcement last October, was working on themes and slogans \u2013 all with a touch of the grrl pirate thrown in.\u00a0 Werdna\u2019s keen legal mind was on hand, as well.\u00a0 He refused to leave his office, though, citing a \u2018large, unfinished novel project about a writer who goes insane trying to finish his novel project.\u2019\u00a0 Of course, it was odd to have him in the legal department anyway.\u00a0 He was about as far away from a law degree as the editors of the Workers Daily are from their families and loved ones right now.\u00a0 Ali was appointed Minister of Special Operations, a tip of the hat to the bygone days of truly menacing Fascist titles.<\/p>\n
Oscar had rented out space in Wheaton, a tiny, dilapidated office above Eight Ball Billiards, where someone was killed every Saturday night.\u00a0 At Eight Ball, I mean.\u00a0 Not our office.\u00a0 Though a death free environment was not a luxury we would enjoy for long.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell,\u201d James was saying to Oscar, \u201cForeshadowing is not Nacho\u2019s forte.\u00a0 He\u2019s more of a confrontational writer.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked up from my notepad.\u00a0 \u201cWhat are you guys talking about?\u201d<\/p>\n
Ali and the boys had brought celebratory scotch.\u00a0 Of course, we\u2019d all been drinking lots of scotch lately.\u00a0 Part of it was due to the Royal Mile Pub, which was only a few blocks from our office.\u00a0 I spent lots of time in the Royal Mile when I wasn\u2019t working on a project as challenging as Oscar bin Laden\u2019s biography and his mad bid for the presidency.\u00a0 Alas, it\u2019s that bid for the presidency which would remove the luxury of a death free environment to which we were all accustomed.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s a fine art, writing,\u201d James poured a glass of whisky, knocked it back, then poured another glass.\u00a0 \u201cNacho\u2019s the type who just plows into something.\u00a0 He\u2019s a useless moron when he tries to exhibit some sort of high-minded literary\u2026function, or what have you.\u201d<\/p>\n
I glared at my companions, then returned to my notebook.\u00a0 It was at that moment that the doors burst open and several young men stormed into the room, disarmed Ali and the boys and then turned Oscar\u2019s own home-made AK-47\u2019s on us.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe have come to avenge the deaths of \u2013\u201c<\/p>\n
\u201cI keep saying this!\u201d Oscar shouted, \u201cI\u2019m just the idea man!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJust a minute,\u201d James stepped forward, arms spread out.\u00a0 \u201cWhat is it we can do for you gentleman?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe have come to kill Oscar bin Laden.\u201d The lead boy spoke.\u00a0 He looked to be about 18, crew cut, jeans and a shirt emblazoned with a giant American flag, defaced by the words \u201cProud of it!\u201d\u00a0 He kicked over the table and scotch, pens, and the deck of cards flew through the air.<\/p>\n
Three wavy lines.\u00a0 A square.\u00a0 A circle.\u00a0 Three wavy lines\u2026<\/p>\n
\u201cYou are an enemy of freedom, an enemy of the people and we cannot allow you to run for president.\u201d The lead boy screamed.<\/p>\n
\u201cIs this about the beer?\u201d Oscar asked.\u00a0 \u201cI mean, you can have some.\u201d\u00a0 Oscar turned to Rita, \u2018We have beautiful women, too.\u00a0 You can have her.\u201d<\/p>\n
Rita, shocked, stepped quickly away from Oscar.<\/p>\n
\u201cDude, does that offer extend to me?\u201d James asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m in after James,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019ve come to execute you,\u201d the lead boy snarled at Oscar.<\/p>\n
\u201cBogus,\u201d James and I said together.<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay,\u201d Oscar said, raising his hands, \u201cLet\u2019s pretend for a moment that Nacho isn\u2019t here and talk about this like rational men.\u201d<\/p>\n
\n
I looked up from my notebook, \u201cThere\u2019s this chick at my office and I saw her panty line today.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re not here, Nacho.\u201d Oscar chided.<\/p>\n
I pursed my lips, \u201cFine.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLet\u2019s say I give each of you a million dollars,\u201d Oscar said, \u201cAnd Rita Sullivan.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHey!\u201d Rita said, but then she shrunk into a corner when James licked his lips and leaned towards her.<\/p>\n
\u201cLet\u2019s say,\u201d Oscar continued, \u201cthat\u2019s a rational, nonviolent solution.\u00a0 Cold cash, under the counter.\u00a0 No questions, no problems.\u201d<\/p>\n
The lead boy lowered his gun and looked confused for a moment, \u201cA million\u2026?\u201d<\/p>\n
Oscar nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cJesus, Sam,\u201d one of the armed boys hissed, \u201cthat would change my life\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
Sam nodded and stepped forward, \u201cWe\u2019ll take your blood money and we\u2019ll use it for \u2013 \u201c<\/p>\n
The window behind Oscar spider webbed.\u00a0 The afternoon sun lanced through the dusty air at odd angles.\u00a0 As Oscar slumped forward, a sharp crack echoed across the town.\u00a0 Sam caught Oscar, then shouted and leapt back.\u00a0 He let Oscar fall to the ground and held up his blood-soaked hand in horror.<\/p>\n
It took a while for all the images to be absorbed.\u00a0 For the reality of what had just happened to strike into the logic circuits.\u00a0 There were Sam\u2019s animal-like screams as he fell backwards, covered in Oscar\u2019s blood.\u00a0 Then there was pandemonium outside \u2013 cars screeching, people yelling, sirens wailing.\u00a0 Then another keen wailing filled the air \u2013 Rita Sullivan, crossing over to Oscar\u2019s body and putting her hands on his shoulders.<\/p>\n
The smell of death was in the room on that afternoon.\u00a0 The death of the candidate.\u00a0 Oscar bin Laden had been shot by a sniper\u2019s bullet and our lives were changed forever.<\/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-2601","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\/2601","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=2601"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2601\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2672,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2601\/revisions\/2672"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2601"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2601"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2601"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}