November 24, 2006
Berkeley, California
Happy Thanksgiving!
This year I had so many things to be thankful for I could hardly count them all: the Democrats stormed both Houses, Iraq war going from bad to worse, Republican Senators and Evangelists exposed as pedophiles, homos, and druggies, and many others. I was so looking forward to celebrating the holiday with my family, but unfortunately they were all busy and couldn't make it. Also, my new assistant Sunshine quit Monday and stole $300 and my new clock radio. I was depressed and resigned to spending Thanksgiving alone.
I woke up Thursday morning to somebody repeatedly playing "Shave and a Haircut" on my doorbell and by the time I got to the door I was ready to drop-kick whoever it was into the next century. I flung open the door and there in front of me wasn't the pair of Jehovah's Witnesses I was expecting, but Scooter! My initial reaction was to turn and run, but I noticed he didn't stink and wasn't wearing a beard, so I just stood there and asked, "Are you Scooter or Kareem?" He replied, " Mohammad sucks, call me Scooter," and then I broke down in tears and hugged him tightly. As we both sobbed in tender embrace I suddenly became aware of the fact he was kind of humping me, so I kneed him in the nuts and went to the kitchen to start preparing a celebratory feast.
Once Scooter was able to get off the floor, he joined me in the kitchen. As I prepared the turkey, he told me all about his stay at Guantanamo and how the other inmates turned on him after someone noticed in the shower that he had been circumcised. Oh oh! From that point on they accused him of being an Israeli spy and tried numerous times to kill him. In a stroke of genius, he pasted pages of the Quran all over his body, so they couldn't harm him lest they damage them. Brilliant! He was released after renouncing his faith and ratting out some of his former friends. He said he was sorry he tried to kill me, and I knew he meant it.
We drank lots of tequila and cooked up a storm. Finally, late that afternoon everything was done and we sat down to eat. When Scooter asked to say a prayer of thanksgiving, I marveled at the life-changing transformation he had obviously undergone. Unfortunately what followed was a rambling, drunken intonement giving thanks for his release from prison, turkeys, tequila, me, puppies, his mother, gentle rains, and some other stuff I don't remember. After downing another shot of tequila he continued, beseeching God to send hellfire and damnation on all the jihadists in prison that tried to harm him, and also on that girl he met at the convenience store who turned him down for a date yesterday. He was in the process of asking God for the bloody dismemberment of his old gym teacher when I cut him short, as the food was getting cold and I was losing my appetite. Everything was delicious except for the green bean casserole Scooter made, as it had a distinct smell of ammonia and contained his wristwatch.
I couldn't be happier Scooter is back and no longer a Muslim. Even with the Dems yanking us out of Iraq there's still plenty to protest, and with Scooter's artistic ability and my brains, we can, and will, change the world.
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