I had a nightmare about chemical weapons
A chilly wind has suddenly struck the Arabian spring. Power, wealth and males is sometimes a deadly cocktail for those who dare order a drink in a dictators bar.
“What can I offer you Sir”, he asked the diplomat who secretly handed over the documents.
Suddenly the bartender noticed that the numbers of insurgents in his bar was clearly outnumbering his loyal staff. It was long overdue. It was time to act. He smiled when he saw the documents handed over by the Brittish Embassy. His new flat was ready and a nice car waiting just outside Heathrow Airport.
What wonderful lies people hear every day. Just can’t understand how easy it is to manipulate these stupid bastards in the West, he thought whilst slowly walking towards the back door of the bar.
He pushed a button and a screen was activated in a well hidden complex behind curtains of a funeral service, targetting those very poor and sick ones he actually genuinally despised. In the left pocket of his tailor made suite, a brand new Iphone 5 gave a humming sound. He picked it up and told the senior officer at the main Broadcasting Head Office to open the black envelope sent a couple of months earlier.
“Sir, I do confirm that the Syrian Government will never us any chemical weapons against it’s citizens. That is the message we will send”, he responded with a cold and metallic voice.
The senior officer behind the screen pour yet another Singapore Sling in his empty glass. In the next moment he gave the orders.
“Operation Funeral has been given a go”, he screamed!
“Don’t you dare miss any targets! Allah Ahkbar”, he shouted whilst slowly finishing his next drink.