The Army hit us within hours of the attack on Cleveland. Afkaz shook.

The king wasn’t planning on this. He was gonna play squash. I knew because I saw a strange vehicle. A zebra colored Range Rover. The dudes inside looked like bush poachers. I’d seen some of the king’s squash equipment around. When I saw that same equipment on the Zebra Rover, well you do the math. Was there a league where bad guys play against other bad guys? Just goes to show you that anyone can come together with sports. I wondered if they had their own team uniforms. Were the poachers called like the African Tuskers? The Sinaloa Machetes?

The king was pissed with the Browns game. Now he knew how I felt on Sundays. He was pissed ’cause Mom didn’t die. Oh yea, and ’cause I stole all his money. After my ass kicking, I was dragged to my room. Handcuffed, with guards. It was nice knowing you can’t technically be shot without costing someone 8 billion dollars.

The king definitely bit off more than he could chew. Now that bombs started dropping—and—they WERE dropping, he had to act. I wonder if he knew how hard I screwed him. You’re lucky, king. I rigged it so you get to live. Just stick by me, and you’ll live.

After a heavy rain of precision-guided missiles, the king wasn’t feeling the spoils of war. He wanted the bombs. He told me, he welcomed bombs USA. I don’t think he knew how quickly those suckers would get here. Even I was surprised.

I heard explosions outside the house. When they hit, you felt them in your chest. They rattled your lungs and your heart. The king came in. He wasn’t looking great. Good. The king looked at the guards and said something in Arabic. They immediately left. It was just me and the king. He crept over. He slapped me a few good ones. “Where my money?” I just laughed. Cry laughed. The king’s pimp hand was strong.

“I’ll tell you when I’m safe. Doesn’t sound too safe right now.”

A bomb burst outside. Then gunfire broke out. The king shook his head. I shook right back. Try me, sucker. You fucked with the wrong Hefty.

He grabbed my ratty collar and head-butted me. Shit that hurt. He eyed me and I eyed him. I wondered if he could see into my mind. See my guilty conscience screaming SEE THESE BOMBS? IT’S ALL HEFTY! I CAUSED THIS!

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The doors burst open. The guards were back. They were terrified. This air strike was getting everyone spooked.

“Yullah!” said the king.

I got lifted up, and off we went. I said goodbye to that house. To Ghada, wherever she was. I worried I’d never see my wife again. I prayed to Allah those bombs didn’t swallow her up. If I were 100% sure I knew where she was being kept, I would have made a cyber shield around her.

I was cuffed with my hands in front. A guard, masked in that picnic fabric, grabbed my upper arm. I felt his hand wrap around me. For the first time, I felt the fingers go further into my muscles. I’d lost weight.

Outside, there was smoke and fire. And the Zebra Rover. There was blood splattered on the windshield now. Guards were removing white bodies, sprayed in holes and blood. They were tall, lanky. Those were the African poachers. Great hospitality, king. I got shoved in the back, in my usual seat, and we were off. We made some turns through the town.

Some of my favorite place, including Lucky Café Indian restaurant, were now fiery rubble. Watch out, fucking US. You’re way off target. I would never blow up Lucky Cafe. We went around an underpass, then we got to the bridge. It was a really nice bridge. I hoped they wouldn’t blow it up.

We took a different turn, then we hit a tunnel. I’d never seen this tunnel. It was a very well-lit tunnel. It was like an abandoned sewer operation. I kept quiet but wondered what was happening. The king, in the passenger seat, was calling into the radio.

We drove to a doorway in the tunnel. The guards got out and opened the trunk. I looked around and saw Samir directing the guards. They emptied the Zeb-Rover and started loading crates. I knew exactly what it was. My Intel Titan, being loaded into the back. Samir sure did know his hardware. We could’a made a great team. Well, in case I thought my nightmare was over… here we go. They closed the trunk, and the two guards sat in the back, both armed. They weren’t going to let me out of their sight. The king yelled something to Samir and said, “Inshallah.” He wasn’t coming with us.

The moon roof was open. Musky tunnel air rushed in as we roared down the cavern. The tunnel lights flickered like bullets. Damn, is that where my mind was now? Nothing but bullets? Everything reminded me of bullets. Everything was bullets.

The king was yammering away in Arabic, trying to get a signal to call someone but surprise, surprise, no service. We were underground. The Zeb-Rover dragged on through the tunnel, and after about 5 minutes I saw the sun peek through.

The king gave up on his phone. He turned to face me. God, enough with the eyes, dude. He opened his mouth to speak, and then white shit flung down his throat. A splat shot through the moon roof. It splashed over his face. It was a thunderous pounce of bird shit. It splashed everywhere. Even his guards wanted to chuckle. They didn’t, but when you’re sitting next to someone, you can tell. Especially when you see someone eat shit.

When I was 6, a bird shit, shat, (shitted?) on me on zoo day. I was told by the zookeeper that it was good luck. I didn’t know what it meant for the Caliphate. I just prayed that that bird shit was my good luck.