Vultures circled over the two-story mud brick house, on the outskirts of a town, somewhere in the war zone. They angrily swooped down on the satellite dish that had recently been installed on the roof.

Falah watched TV in one of the upstairs bedrooms adjusting the reception with an array of dials and switches. He surfed between the Playboy and Country Music channels, sometimes becoming confused about which was which. His AK 47 assault rifle leaned against an Elvis poster, taped to the brick wall.

Outside, the neighbors were loading their belongings onto carts and heading away. They gave the house with the TV dish nasty looks as they passed. Young children made obscene gestures and old men cussed and spat in the dust.

Falah heard the front door open and someone start up the steps. He glanced over at his rifle and then back at the TV where an attractive woman, wearing a cowboy hat and tank top, drove through a small Texas town, singing and waving suggestively at pedestrians. There was a knock at the open door.

Falah looked up and saw a swarthy middle aged man dressed in white robes. He was clean-shaven and wore large dark rimmed glasses. He carried a portable dialysis machine, which he plugged into one of the rooms power outlets. "Osama Bin Laden, the enemy of all infidels," the man said to Falah.

Falah looked closely at the stranger. "No, I'm Falah the electronics technician. I'm not Bin Laden."

"No, I'm Bin Laden."

"Sorry, I didn't recognize you."

"It's the beard. I had to shave it off. It drew too much attention. When I think of all the product endorsements I gave up. It was my trademark, like Spock’s ears or Dolly Parton's bosom."

"Like Fidel Castro's cigar."

"Yes, there was a man who could really get under the Yankee's Kaftan."

"Under their skin, I think is the __expression."

"Whatever. Are you ready to make the infidels spend a couple of billion dollars and further enslave their own people in debt, until the masses finally rise up and overthrow their capitalist oppressors, bringing victory to our cause?"

"Squashing them like dogs."

"Crushing them like a Florida trailer home, during Hurricane season."

"Making them squeal like a piggy." Said Falah.

"Deliverance."

"Shot in 1972, starring Burt Reynolds, Jon Voight and Ned Beatty."

"Infidel trash."

"Great banjo music though."

"You don't hear good Banjo music anymore. Hey is that the Dixie Chicks," Bin asked. "They're hotter than Jane Fonda!"

"Immoral western tarts."

"Harlots!"

"I like the way they do their hair."

"So retro."

"Enough," said Bin Laden. "Let's get to work."

Falah set up the microphone in front of Bin Laden while the leader looked over his script and hummed to himself.

"How do you want to do this?" Falah asked. "I could put some music in the background and you could do it Karaoke."

"I think a capella would be most effective."

"Ready anytime you are."

Bin cleared his throat and leaned into the mike. Falah gave him the thumbs up. Bin began to sing.

"Bin Bang

Walla walla

Bin Bang

Killer on the road,

Killer on the Road.

Who put the Boom

In the Boom shaboom

New York

New York

If you can make it here

You can make it

Anywhere"

"Great stuff Bin. I love that old 50's and 60's music."

"I took some liberties with the lyrics. Let them sue me."

"That was real music not like this modern Rap stuff with all that gold jewelry and talking so fast you can't keep up with what they're saying."

"The decadent decline of a once great industry."

"Everything's been commercialized."

"Sign of the times."

Bin watched reruns of Dynasty while Falah worked at the mixing board preparing the final version. He finally let Bin hear the finished tape.

The Beardless One listened carefully. "We're talking Orange alert with this," he said smiling at Falah.

"A hundred Dinares says it goes red. Every cop in the US will be on overtime for six months."

"It'll kill their Medicaid budget for the next five years."

They laughed. "Ready to send it out anytime you want. I've got CNN on the speed dial."

They listen as the tape was unlinked by satellite to the CNN newsroom. It started with the hissing and background noise Falah had inserted. Then came quite clearly Osama speaking. "Bin," he said. More hissing. "Bin," again. He knew the voice print experts would identify his voice even without the clue.

Hissing, then, "killer." More hissing. "Killer," again." Then in a loud voice "Boom, boom, New York, Boom." More hissing, then, "Here, anywhere. Here, Anywhere. New York, boom, boom."

"That'll freak those infidel swine," Bin said laughing. He went to the window and looked out at the cloudless sky listening carefully with his head cocked to one side. He unplugged his dialysis machine, while Falah packed a few clothes in a small suitcase and rolled up his Elvis poster.

The two men left the house and walked down the deserted street. "Feels like a ghost town," said Bin.

"Dodge City before the Shoot out at the OK Corral."

From off in the distance they heard the sound of an approaching aircraft and the two men started walking faster.

The US Airforce F18 streaked in over the rooftops. They could see the pilot's face as he pulled the bomb release and banked sharply, dropping $400 thousand dollars worth of ordinance on the now empty house.

The explosion rocked the neighborhood sending a plume of acrid smoke up into the sky. The two men ducked their heads as bits of debris began falling around them. "Ah," said Falah. "The smell of Napalm in the morning."

"Makes me think of victory!" Bin Laden answered as the two men broke into a run.