Mr. Helpful Theater Proudly Presents....

At Home With Saddam Hussein

Saddam stepped inside the front door of his magnificent palace.

He was tired, worn out, ground to a pulp. These constant, every day battles were beginning to wear on him like a cheap suit. If it wasnt the ever present strain of finding new hiding places for his weapons of mass destruction, it was the constant drumbeats of war coming from the office of the infidel Bush. Sure, there some major governments (all thanks to Allah for dumbasses) who still resisted the lure of the snake charmers from the West however their resolve appeared to be weakening with each passing day.

It had reached the point where there wasnt a moment of peace to be found. He had taken to letting his answering machine pick up the phone; carefully screening his calls and only taking the ones which involved deceiving the UN inspectors or, on a lucky day, decisions on which of his loyal subjects to torture next.

Christ...running things. Someone once said, "It's good to be king." Yeah, well...that someone never had to deal with the threat of a thousand laser guided missiles aimed squarely at his head; ready to arm at a moment's notice.

All he wanted now was a moment's rest.

He headed for the palatial bathroom; dropping a piece of clothing with each step. Time to wash all these worries away under the veil of a nice, hot shower.

He reached the solid gold shower stall, bent forward and turned on the water, super hot, just the way he liked. Steam rose instantly as the nearly scalding water hit the cold tiles.

Saddam smiled with satisfaction. Ahhhh yes...just what the doctor ordered.

He stepped inside, closing the door behind. He recoiled slightly as the bullets of heat bit into his skin; soon, however, the bullets were soothing instead of biting and Saddam floated amongst the relaxing warmth of the veritable waterfall cascading down from the wall.

As the torrent worked its magic, Saddam began to feel invigorated. His spirits werent quite as low, his muscles didnt ache as much as before, he could feel hope and optimism wash over him and his heart began to surge with new found strength.

In fact, so much strength that he began to sing...softly at first then building in volume as he lost himself in the words of the song....

~~gonna break these chains around me
gonna learn...to fly again
may be hard may be hard
but i will do it
when i'm back on my feet again
soon these tears will all be drying
soon these eyes will see the sun
might take time might take time
but i will see it
when im back on my feet again

when im back on my feet again
ill walk proud down the street again
and theyll all look at me again
and theyll see that im strong

gonna hear...the children laughing
gonna hear the voices sing
wont be long wont be long
until i hear them
when im back on my feet again
gonna feel the sweet light of heaven
shining down its light on me
one sweet day one sweet day
i will feel it
when im back on my feet again

when im back on my feet again
ill walk proud down the street again
and theyll all look at me again
and theyll see that im strong
and im not gonna crawl again
ill learn to stand tall again
and im not gonna fall again
cause ill learn to be strong

soon these tears will all be drying
soon these eyes will see the sun
wont be long wont be long
until i see it
when im back on my feet again
when im back on my feet again
ill be back on my feet again....

And he finished with a flourish, raising his arms to the heavens as he shouted the final words

YES, I'LL BE BACK ON MY FEET AGAIN AND THE INFIDEL BUSH CANT STOP ME....I'M BACK ON MY FEET AGAIN!!~~

And in another room, in another world, his bodyguards simply stared at each other and wondered if it was time to go home yet.

Posted by Mr. Helpful at February 6, 2003 08:50 PM