Written by Jean Le Fete

Friday, 25 February 2011

image for Born to Spoof: The Prequel Sequel: Chapter 1 Ghadaffi's Place
Revolution Number 9

It was dark and stormy night. I shuffled into the Spoof Bar and Grill, depressed beyond belief. I was scheduled by Mark for a junket to Libya, Tunisia, Egypt, Bahrain, Yemen and then Iran, in that order. Each of course depended upon successfully getting a story without being killed before moving on.

Skoob filled my mug without waiting for me to sit on a bar stool. I sat, picked up the frothy mug and downed it in one draw.

"Ahhhhh...Damned if I do, Damned if I don't," I said.

"That's optimistic of you," said Skoob, "You take foregranted someone gives a rat's ass enough about you to give a damn."

"Thanks for that...." I said, "I can always count on you for the bright side of things." Somewhere above in the pathetic sound system an eerily appropriate song was playing.

You say you want a revolu...tion...Wellll yer know, we all wanna change the world....

"Buggar it!!" I said as I finished my second, "I'm off, open the friggin portal for me Skoob."

"Aren't you going to wait for...." started Skoob but he froze when I glared at him.

"You mean?" I asked.

"She's back..." he said, "Came in yesterday looking for you. I told her you were in outer Mongolia still. I don't think she bought it though....watch you step mate, she's poison."

"If I'm still alive I'll be sure to keep that in mind," I said standing and adjusting my new eye patch. It had taken some getting use to, but that explosion at the nunnery had given me mono vision for life.

"I'll tell her you headed to Rio," said Skoob, "That should give you a day or two head start."

"Ghadaffi's tent if you please," I said walking toward the terrarium.


"I want my god damned ice cream NOWWWWWWWW!!!!" yelled Ghadaffi at a poor servant scrambling toward a freezer,"Are you on drugs or something!!!! ARe you with Al Quaeda!!!"

I walked as calmly as I could into the tent and sidled up to Muumaar. He saw my eye patch and ducked, "Who the hell are you?!!! Moshe Dyan!!! Bloody Hell!!! I'm seeing ghosts now!!!! Would somebody PLEASE hurry up and shoot me and make me a friggin' MARTYR!!!!!!!"

"I'm with The Spoofeline Magazine Mr Ghadaffi, I'm here to do a story on you and the little revolution going on here," I said.

"WHAT!!!!There is no revolution, these people are all taking pills and are under the control of Zumba dancing! Are you crazy???!!!"

"Am I crazy?...Sir that really isn't the point, I'm just a spoof writer from England, on the run from a crazed, yet beautiful clone, whom I'm madly in love with."

"Oh," said Ghadaffi, "Are you really in love with her?"

"Well I think so, it's complicated, she's tried to kill me multiple times."

"Oh hoho ho! That is nothing my friend. My wife has tried to have me killed 50 times now. Big deal!" he retorted.

"Oh, but your wife wasn't nearly as tough as I," said #3. She pulled her 38 revolver from her purse and fired it into his chest several times at point blank range......

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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