Your number is up

Still another number 3 terrorist in the al-Qaida lunatic hierarchy was killed recently by our Predator drones.

This is like the 20th number 3 in the chain of deranged command taken out by our unmatched Armed Forces.

The next guy to move up to number 3 has got to be wearing two or three extra pair of adult diapers. There’s got to be at least one looney tune terrorist who doesn’t want the job and is trying to talk his way out of it.

“Congratulations, al-Whacki, you are moving up to number 3. This is a sacred promotion for you.”

“Ah, well, you know, I do appreciate the confidence you have placed in me. But really, I’m like number 56 in the number 4 on the hierarchy list. I don’t want to step over so many bodies to move up so quickly.”

“Don’t be ridiculous —- stepping over bodies to move up in the hierarchy is how we do business in al-Qaida.”

“So I’ve noticed…”

“You should be proud you are so blessed to be at the heart of our terrorist organization. In fact, you should be wearing your heart on your sleeve.”

“That’s what I’m afraid is going to happen —- literally.”

“Afraid! We don’t do afraid! There’s no afraid in al-Qaida!”

“OK, would you believe concerned? Ya, that’s the ticket —- I’m concerned. After all, I’ve got a wife and several goats to care for.”

“Not to worry. Your Mrs. and your mistresses will be well cared for when something happens.”

“When? Not if?”

“There is no if in al-Qaida, only when.”

“You’re talking about the ultimate sacrifice.”

“Exactly. But remember, there are 72 virgins waiting.”

“Still that many? I should think that with all of us dropping like so many bombs over Baghdad during “shock and awe” there wouldn’t be that many left.”

“Come to think of it, the number is more like 5 virgins now.”

“Five, eh? You know, I would make a much better number 5. I’ve never been a big fan of the number 3. It has a negative reputation. You know, three on a match, two’s company and three’s a crowd. The third wheel. Win, place and show — with show meaning, thanks for showingup, loser. And third place in an Olympic event gets you bronze. I mean, who uses bronze anymore? Bronze is for baby shoes.”

“You forgot to mention famous deaths come in threes. Just kidding. But that’s enough from you —- you’re whining like an infidel! You speak of infidel superstitions!”

“OK then, what about skills. I’m sure I don’t have the proper skills to be number 3. I was just the guy who colored in the words on the “death to America” posters.”

“Skills? This is al-Qaida. There are no skills here. If you hate, that’s skill enough. You’re beginning to strike us as a coward.”

“OK, I admit it, I’m a coward! So do what you will —- it’ll at least happen sooner.”

“Quite the contrary —- you passed the test with flying colors. Being a coward is the ultimate qualification to be number 3 in al-Qaida. Hell, even number 1. You could move up faster than you think, number 3.”

“Hmmm. Maybe you’re right. Now I’ve got someone to shoot at.”

“Don’t you mean something to shoot for?”

“Whatever you say….”

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