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When it gets tough out there...hide here with me.
“So you thought you could get away with it?” the voice said.
“Who’s there? Who are you? Where are you?” Mahmoud shouted.
“Who do you think I am? You’re alone, there is nobody around and you know the room isn’t bugged. Who would I be to be able to talk to you?”
“Tell me who you are!” Mahmoud demanded.
“You still haven’t answered my question.”
“Did you really think you could get away with it?”
“Rigging the election? That’s what.”
“It wasn’t rigged.”
“Sure it was. I saw each and every vote cast and you’re not that popular. In fact you actually received less than ten percent of the vote.”
“I won fair and square.”
“Now what does the Koran say about lying? Especially to me?”
“Who did you say you were?” Mahmoud said meekly.
A figure appeared before him, dressed in flowing robes and turban trimmed in gold. Mahmoud stood in awe as the figure turned this way and that, looking at his surroundings. His gaze then fell on Mahmoud.
“There now you can tell me to my face how you won the election.”
“I…I…did…did…n’t win did I?”
“No my son you didn’t and you need to right this injustice.”
“What are you talking about, I can’t give up my position. The country would fall apart.”
“No it won’t.”
“Then that fool of a supreme leader would take over.”
“Probably but, not for long, he’s next to see on my list and I would have been here sooner but that cretin Obama held me up with his bullshit.”
“Oh do get a life. Listen, you either step down as President or I take you to hell with the other two numbskulls. Which is it to be?”
“Who are you again?”
“You know who I am.”
“I have been called that many times.”
“Then you’re not really Allah?”
“No, there is no such thing as God.”
“But Mohammed said there was.”
“Yeah, well he got a lot wrong that one. There is also no Heaven so…”
“So no virgins, I never believed that one anyway. So what else did he get wrong? And if you’re not god then who are you?”
“Let’s see, women should be celebrated, not celibate. Their beauty should be displayed not hidden away. He was such a shrug that one. He has caused me more problems. Well, it’s not your fault, yet you are the one to suffer. Do you realize how great your country could have been if that shmoo had gotten it right?”
“Well it doesn’t matter. Now, who am I.”
“That’s what I’m asking.”
“I know I heard you, I was standing right here when you asked the question. I am the guardian of this planet. I protect you humans from yourselves when I have too.”
“So you’re an alien? From outer space?”
“No, I was born here but yes my family and my gene pool started on another planet.”
“To complex to explain, far, far away from here.”
“You are human then?”
“Yes, similar to you.”
Mahmoud reached into his jacket and pulled out a small pistol. The man in the robes just giggled at him. This inflamed Mahmoud.
“What are you laughing at?”
“You with that gun are you kidding me? I mean, come on, I just appear out of thin air and you think you can shoot me?”
“Yes.” Mahmoud pulled the trigger and the man was gone as the shot echoed around the room. He looked around the room but there was no one with him any longer. Then something hit him on the head. He dropped the gun and fell to the floor, his vision fuzzy from the blow.
“Now, how were you going to shoot me?”
“You didn’t have to hit me so hard. That hurt.”
“That’s what you get for playing with guns. Somebody always gets hurt.”
“Crap,” Mahmoud said as he rose to his feet. “So what is this hell of yours like?”
“Oh you’ll have fun there. You’ll have two playmates.”
“Kim Jong Il and Barack Obama.”
“You, you were the one that took them?”
“Weren’t you listening before? Didn’t I say I had been delayed because of Obama and his bullshit?”
“Yes, but I didn’t realize at the time…”
“Just stop, you’re just stalling now. No one will be coming to help you, you know that don’t you?”
“I guess. Why is it we are not speaking Farsi?”
“We are, perfectly.”
“Then why does it sound like English to me?”
“You don’t really, you are probably just getting an echo from my translator.”
“Never mind, are you ready to go?”
“I guess if I have too.”
A black rectangle opened in front of Mahmoud. There was a long dark corridor beyond with a faint light at the end.
“Step into the portal, my son. Nothing in there will hurt you.”
Mahmoud stepped into the dark doorway. He was joined by Allah. Then the portal shut behind them and there was no turning back. Allah started walking to the other end of the corridor. Mahmoud hurried to catch up.
“Where does this lead?”
“I was always taught that Hell was a hot, uncomfortable place where souls suffered in endless pain.”
“So you would believe that god would cause you endless pain? For what reason would you’re god do that?”
“For not following his rules?”
“What rules? If there is no god how can he provide you with rules to live your life by?”
“But you are Allah, and Mohammed wrote down and preached your rules to us.”
“He wrote down his rules. His, not mine. I gave him no rules. I told him what I would like for him to do, how he could better himself and those around him. But I gave him no rules. That fool Moses was the same way. He comes up my mountain to talk and on the way down makes up a bunch of bullshit rules. I did happen to agree with some of his though. Mohammed went a little over the edge with his rules.”
“There are no rules for you or anyone else to follow that came from me or my kind. There is no such thing as gods. There is no magic. Anything and everything, with a few exceptions, is done by man himself. I do happen to do a few little slights of hand to put people back on the right track, such as I’m doing here.”
“Afraid not. Well, we’re here. It has been a pleasure talking with you Mahmoud.”
“And I with you. Yet I do not understand where I am.”
“There are a few simple rules about this place. One, Kim Jong Il is in charge. Two, he can’t kill you. Three, he can hurt you. Four, you will eventually have to do as he commands. Five, Obama may think he’s in charge but you can ignore him if you wish. Now go have fun.”
Mahmoud felt a hand on his back push him through the doorway into the well lit room beyond. Obama was sitting on a chair with a purple robe around his shoulders and a gold crown on his head. Kim was kneeling in front of him repeating over and over “You are the king.” As Mahmoud took one more step Obama noticed him.
“Mahmoud my friend, I was wondering when you would show up. Come kneel before your king.”
Mahmoud felt rage rising in his gut. He slowly walked to the chair Obama was sitting in and kicked it as hard as he could. The chair and Obama went flying across the room, striking the wall with such force that the chair broke into a thousand pieces. Obama hit the wall and slid down to the floor.
“Now why did you do that, it’s his turn to be king?” Kim said to Mahmoud.
“It’s his turn. We have been taking turns. Now with you here each of us will be king of the world every third day. It will be much more fun with two serfs than with just one.”
“What?” Mahmoud was confused.
“I command that you play nice with us,” Kim yelled a Mahmoud.
All of a sudden Mahmoud had a feeling of cooperation wash over him. Suddenly, he wished to play king for a day with his two exiled counterparts. He stood there smiling as King Obama climbed to his feet and walked toward him. He was still smiling as the fist hit him in the face and knocked him clear across the room. He was still smiling as he climbed to his feet, knowing that tomorrow he would be king.
The Making of a King III
Copyright © 2009 by Xavier Carter
Making of a King III