<\/p>\n
Published March 2004<\/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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I was working my way through a\u00a0 bottle of vodka with all the wallflower queers over by the kitchen entrance.\u00a0 Someone was passing a cigar laced with \u201cspirit\u201d around, and I didn\u2019t have the interest to inquire after ingredients, but the endless stream of caterers had taken on a heavenly glow.\u00a0 Keith, one of the queers, was sizing up the pencilnecks in the party proper, and his buddy David was shooting him down each time.\u00a0 They finally agreed on one in particular and, I must confess, their desired piece of toddy was a fine specimen of manhood.\u00a0 I was about to lean over and tell them never to trust a good time when the boiling wall of caterers belched forth a face I had not seen since the New Year.<\/p>\n
The newcomer smiled, nodded to the queer on my left, then to the queer on my right, then to me.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho\u2019s this fellow?\u201d Roger asked.\u00a0 Roger had been trying to grab my crotch all night and, if he would lay off the booze and hand the bottle over to me, I might\u2019ve just let him.\u00a0 At that moment, though, my head was elsewhere.<\/p>\n
I replied, \u201cThat\u2019s Texas Billionaire Oscar bin Laden.\u201d<\/p>\n
\n
Oscar put his hands up defensively, \u201cPlease, Nacho!\u00a0 I\u2019m incognito!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy\u2019s that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause I\u2019ve done a bad thing.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRecently?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh no.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh yes.\u201d<\/p>\n
Three boys in blue burst into the room.\u00a0 They pointed and shouted, then drove their way through the crowd and the servers to get to Oscar.<\/p>\n
\u201cI must say, Nacho,\u201d Oscar said, \u201cI would appreciate a few of your old tricks.\u201d<\/p>\n
I clicked my tongue and, with a sideways glance towards Keith, I said, \u201cPlan Beta-Nine, boys!\u201d<\/p>\n
The wallflower queers mumbled darkly.<\/p>\n
Two of the cops had made it to us, the third jabbering into his radio.\u00a0 Before any of them could get very far along, though, Keith launched at one and Roger at the other.\u00a0 I grabbed a serving fork from the empty tray on an abandoned table beside David and he grabbed the last remaining lobster.\u00a0 We threw our weapons together, and the radio cop\u2019s indecision as to which item to avoid sent him sprawling to the ground.<\/p>\n
\u201cKitchens,\u201d I barked, grabbing Oscar\u2019s arm.\u00a0 We entered the catering flow, standing out in a field of white and black, and wove our way through the labyrinth, coming out the other end in the service lot, where I had parked.\u00a0 The Acura stood out black and lonely in the rain-swept parking lot, the wind bringing a taste of winter back into the air.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou get this parking lot all to yourself?\u201d Oscar asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cAlways park at the terminus of your escape route.\u201d I advised, leading him down through trash and mud, across the broken and scarred asphalt and letting him into my car.\u00a0 Away from the rain, but not from danger, we didn\u2019t speak as I reversed out of the lot and hit the road.<\/p>\n
The club mix of Deepest Blue\u2019s\u00a0 <i>Give It Away<\/i> seemed like a wise move as I punched up the CD and drove Oscar through the rainy night.\u00a0 The rearview mirror quivered and Oscar began bopping his head as I took us onto the Beltway and began a mad run for the Maryland suburbs.<\/p>\n
\u201cI made a decision.\u201d\u00a0 Oscar told me, shouting over the music.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re going back to Texas?\u201d<\/p>\n
He shook his head, \u201cNo.\u00a0 I\u2019m going to end the American Dream.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cToo late, motherfucker.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIs this really Deepest Blue?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGreat, huh?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIs this a new stereo?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSame speakers.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNew head unit.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, yeah.\u00a0 How are you going to end the dream?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re driving in it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re going to end the American Dream with my Acura?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo!\u00a0 The rain.\u201d<\/p>\n
I craned my head and looked through the windshield at the night sky, the wipers on high, the headlights devoured by the night.\u00a0 A deluge hit us as an 18-wheeler blasted past us on death speed and I looked over at Oscar, only to see his dash-lit grin coming right at me.<\/p>\n
* * *<\/p>\n
A week of rain.\u00a0 That was the deal as I sat in morning rush hour, waiting for my fellow commuters to either freak out or get out of my way.\u00a0 The morning was grey and vicious, the rain coming down with an angry feeling.\u00a0 An SUV drove past me on the wrong side of the road, a family of five leaning out of every available window and door screaming.\u00a0 The guy ahead of me had beached his car on the curb and was about to be rammed by someone trying to exit the St. Peter & Paul Catholic Church on Kemp Mill Road.\u00a0 The Catholics were always fuckers, but a week of driving rain had turned them into Napoleon\u2019s infantry.\u00a0 I considered backing up, but a white panel van had come up on my bumper and the driver was leaning relentlessly on his horn.\u00a0 I was about 12.8 seconds away from shooting every living creature around me, and in a way that would make those Columbine killers jealous, but I was weaponless unless you counted my grandmother\u2019s salad as lethal.<\/p>\n
With murder in my heart, my cellphone rang as I had my hand on the door, ready to shove it open and take the salad back to the van behind me.<\/p>\n
\u201cMeet me outside the Wheaton Metro,\u201d\u00a0 Oscar whispered into my ear.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll motherfucking do that as soon as I\u2019m motherfucking finished ripping off everyone\u2019s head with my motherfucking bare hands and sucking out their eyeballs and fucking their skulls and motherfucking \u2013 \u201c<\/p>\n
\u201cI can see you\u2019re on the road.\u00a0 Sorry.\u00a0 I hate it when drivers talk on the phone.\u00a0 I\u2019ll wait for you.\u00a0 Allah says you shouldn\u2019t skullfuck your fellow commuters.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m going to skullfuck Allah in a minute.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll wait for you.\u201d\u00a0 And he rang off.<\/p>\n
Oscar was at the gaping black maw that led into the Wheaton Station, so I parked, fed the meter too many quarters, and we walked together through the turnstiles.\u00a0 The rain was flooding the skirts of the station entrance, rolling into the drain and gurgling behind us.\u00a0 In the tunnels, it seemed no better.\u00a0 A thin line of water ran in the groove down the center of the track and a cloying dampness stuck to everything.\u00a0 The Downtown train was coming from deeper tunnels but, still, it sprayed the platform with water as it ground to a stop.\u00a0 Oscar and I took the drunk seat at the very end of the last car and, for a few minutes, sat in silence as the train filled up at Forest Glen and, breaking onto above ground track, at Silver Spring.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The window looked like it was made of liquid and my fellow commuters dripped water onto the car\u2019s sopping carpet.\u00a0 A Middle Eastern man sighted Oscar and drifted uneasily nearby, though his relation with the Texas Billionaire was beyond me.\u00a0 A girl standing with her face pressed against the window of the rear emergency door, eyes mesmerized by the rushing tracks, had a remix of Sara Brightman\u2019s <i>Free<\/i> pounding out of her headphones.\u00a0 With the verve missing from the song, it wasn\u2019t as exhilarating.\u00a0 I had a brief daydream where I dragged some real sound equipment into the train car and turned it into a Mentos commercial, set to a proper sound and vision Sara Brightman remix freakout.<\/p>\n
\u201cI hate Brightman.\u201d\u00a0 Oscar said, and I wondered if he could see into my mind.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo what\u2019s going on?\u201d<\/p>\n
Oscar glanced sideways at me, a crooked grin showing through his beard.\u00a0 \u201cThe rain.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAh.\u201d\u00a0 We were silent for a few moments and I stared at the Brightman girl.\u00a0 Hooverphonic, now, but I couldn\u2019t identify the song.\u00a0 \u201cShe\u2019s maxed out the volume,\u201d I said, \u201cThat\u2019s bad for the ears.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFuck her ears!\u201d\u00a0 Oscar shouted, then he cleared his throat and shifted nervously.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you feeling poorly, OBL?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThis town is a disease.\u201d\u00a0 He said at last.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019ve given up my presidential campaign and I\u2019ve decided to head back to Texas, but not before I wash Washington clean.\u201d<\/p>\n
I snorted a laugh, \u201cWash Washington.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAli and the boys seeded the clouds.\u00a0 This rain won\u2019t let up anytime soon.\u00a0 When it does, and when these clouds clear, the American dream will be dead.\u201d\u00a0 He leaned over and whispered in my ear, \u201cAnother week of rain and I\u2019ll have brought DC to her knees.\u00a0 You commuters will destroy each other, the rest will commit suicide.\u00a0 The buildings will fall and Daft Punk will never remix U2 again.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDaft Punk is German.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen they\u2019re fucking next.\u201d<\/p>\n
The Middle Eastern man I had noticed earlier drifted towards us and stuttered, \u201cI couldn\u2019t help but\u2026 Overhear.\u00a0 The rain, I mean.\u00a0 I think you\u2019re a brave and powerful man, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n
OBL stared up at him, \u201cThere\u2019s a fine line between camaraderie and eavesdropping.\u00a0 Where I come from, the only eavesdroppers are queers, Mexicans and drunk Indians.\u201d<\/p>\n
OBL\u2019s fan seemed confused.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou ever been to Paradise, Texas, son?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cUm\u2026no, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOil, son.\u00a0 The future of the world.\u201d<\/p>\n
The man backed away and Oscar grabbed my shoulder, shaking me violently.\u00a0 \u201cOne wish, Nacho.\u00a0 I\u2019ll grant it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLet\u2019s go kill my ex-webmaster.\u201d I said without hesitation.<\/p>\n
Oscar opened up his Matrix-style flip phone and spoke into it, \u201cAli, meet us at Columbia Heights.\u201d<\/p>\n
* * *<\/p>\n
I told Ali and Oscar all about the problems with my recently fired webmaster in The Raven, the smoky bar open for business and serving whiskey and Bud Light to the regulars at 9am.\u00a0 A decision was made:\u00a0 Before Operation Wash Washington had come to a close, we would murder and dispose of my former webmaster, a slacking cunt known as Jack McConnell.\u00a0 He lived nearby, a house he had bought for a song and cleaned up into a million dollar property.\u00a0 I\u2019d once thrown up Tequila on his dog in his backyard.<\/p>\n
We set off through the storm, Oscar at the lead and Ali behind me, and walked down past the former glory of Washington, now a Spanish gangland fighting against gentrification.\u00a0 With my webmaster\u2019s death I could relax, finally reaching a social conclusion in my life.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is a liberating moment of vigilantism,\u201d I said as the three of us stood outside of Jack McConnell\u2019s house.<\/p>\n
\u201cIs it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, yes.\u00a0 I get jerked around by these web fucks all the time.\u00a0 With Jack\u2019s blood washing through these asphalt rivers, I\u2019ll have washed my own Washington.\u00a0 I can get back to my writing.\u00a0 My screenplay.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cVampire Niggers in Honkey Town?\u201d\u00a0 Oscar asked in that way which told me he hated my screenplay.\u00a0 No matter, though.<\/p>\n
\u201cOverdone,\u201d I replied, \u201cEveryone\u2019s doing vampires.\u00a0 I\u2019m working on Werewolf Niggers Versus Crackerville now.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd now we stand,\u201d Oscar said with a sweeping gesture, seemingly oblivious of the rain, \u201cIn the heart of Crackerville,\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOn the front walk of Honkey Town.\u201d<\/p>\n
Oscar nodded, \u201cYour personal Jihad is one of \u2013 \u201c\u00a0 Then he froze, staring over my shoulder as if the rapture had just occurred.\u00a0 \u201cOh,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d\u00a0 I had learned, in my youth, to never follow another person\u2019s gaze, because it always ended up on the maggot-ridden face of a hungry zombie not more than four feet away from me.<\/p>\n
\u201cTrouble.\u201d\u00a0 OBL said.<\/p>\n
Ali started shooting and, finally, that caused me to turn around.\u00a0 I found myself looking at the maggot-ridden face of a hungry zombie not more than four feet away from me.\u00a0 Though that description is more metaphorical than anything else.\u00a0 In this case, the zombie was a group of mounted police officers filling the road and bearing down on us with murderous intent.\u00a0 Oscar broke into a loping run, vaulting shrub, handrail, wheelbarrow, flowerbed, fence, bicycle, trashcan and sapling into the backyard of one of the houses.\u00a0 Ali ran for the nearby park and, with a muttered curse, I closed my eyes and waited for death.<\/p>\n
Jack McConnell caught up with me first, racing out of his front door and tackling me as the cops passed overhead and around like phantasms.\u00a0 At first, I thought Jack had saved me, but he delivered a vile and dirty blow to my groin and I rolled away in a world of pain.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s for low balling me!\u201d\u00a0 Jack screamed.\u00a0 I felt his foot in my side with a hollow, painless sort of dream-sense.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019ll never work for a writer again!\u00a0 You\u2019re all incapable of making decisions!\u201d With each word, he kicked, punched or spat at me.\u00a0 I curled into a ball and let the blows come.\u00a0 \u201cNo, I want another color!\u00a0 No, turn my name graphic into a link back to the homepage!\u00a0 No, I don\u2019t like the design, start again!\u201d\u00a0 He was ranting.<\/p>\n
\u201cAm I to be punished?\u201d\u00a0 He asked, walking away from me.\u00a0 \u201cAm I?\u00a0 I don\u2019t have a creative mind.\u00a0 I can\u2019t think your way.\u00a0 And what do you do with your ability?\u00a0 All that creation wasted!\u00a0 Wasted on the likes of your ranting little webpage, thrown away on useless articles, on \u2013\u201c<\/p>\n
I looked up.\u00a0 Jack was kneeling, staring with a profound look of realization and peace at the bloody point of a spear that had burst from his chest.\u00a0 The street around me had erupted into madness.\u00a0 Former commuters and residents were running wild, screaming.\u00a0 Women were being carried away, children were crying and, further down the road, a melee between the residents and the mounted cops had broken out.\u00a0 A man in a three piece suit and a blue painted face stood over the gurgling Jack McConnell.\u00a0 He struggled with the spear, trying to pull it out of Jack, staring at me with rain-soaked hatred in his eyes.\u00a0 Jack looked at me, pleading, and I pushed myself up, wrapping my hands around my belly.<\/p>\n
\u201cDie, you fucker.\u201d I whispered to Jack.\u00a0 His face fell, his head tilted, and the forgiving light in his last moments stripped me bare.\u00a0 Then the madman was upon me and I rolled with him into the muddy gutter.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s going to end!\u201d\u00a0 I screamed, \u201cThe rain is going to stop!\u201d\u00a0 I saw a man crouched behind a tree, \u201cAli!\u201d\u00a0 I called out, \u201cGet this lunatic off me!\u201d<\/p>\n
Ali\u2019s solution, though typical, was nearly enough to unhinge me.\u00a0 The madman was chewed apart by a spray of bullets from Ali\u2019s military-issue machine gun.\u00a0 It seemed to me that my assailant simply disintegrated in my arms and, for a moment, I lay in rain, mud and rushing water and waited to become aware of bullets in my own body, then Ali dragged me to my feet and put an arm around me.<\/p>\n
\u201cOscar\u2019s really done it now,\u201d I said through a blood-soaked grimace.<\/p>\n
Ali just shrugged and grinned sheepishly.<\/p>\n
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