My Little ISIS: Jihading is Magic
Chapter 1: Allahu Akbar
Location//: White House Press Room, Washington D.C.
Local Time//: 1:17 PM
Date//: October 5, 2014
President Barack Obama adjusted his posture as he readied to address the nation with important news. He munched on a few chicken legs from his lucky KFC bucket that he hides inside the podium. After a few sips of a Kool‐Aid pouch, he felt ready to go live. Barack gestured to begin rolling the cameras. The stage lights kicked in, and the cameramen adjusted their aim. All the news reporters and journalist readied their pencils a paper to take notes on what he was going to say.
“Uhh, my fellow Americans. I have some wonderful news to share with you this afternoon,” he said as he begun to wrap a shemagh around his face. He then reached into his coat pocket and pulled a miniature Qur’an and an AKS‐74U from underneath the podium. The Presidential seal flipped open like a door and revealed Osama bin Laden sitting inside a hidden chamber. The presumed dead terrorist gave a large smile and waved to the viewing public.
“My mission to infiltrate the infidels complete. Uhh, effective immediately, you shall all bow down to the power of Allah and the might of Al Qaeda. Uhh, Allahu akbar! Death to Amer—” The President was stopped in his tracks by a Secret Service agent who approached him from the side.
“What the fuck bruh? You ruined the moment,” the pissed President asked.
“Sir, the conquest of the western infidels is not until next week,” the agent whispered into his ear.
“Shiiiiiiiit,” the President muttered. “Were the cameras rolling?”
“No sir.”
“Phew… That was close,” Barack stowed away the terrorist attire to use for a later day.
“Today is the address on ISIS, sir,” the Secret Service man added.
“Oh yeah, now I remember. Thanks bro.”
“Don’t mention it, sir.” With that, the agent left the President to his official business.
“My nigga,” the Head of State replied, giving the agent a pat on the shoulder as he walked off. He then turned to meet the gaze of his Middle Eastern colleague, who was curious as to what was going on.
“Sorry buddy, but it looks like you’re going to have to be in there a little while longer.”
“Aww. B‐but the infidels,” the terrorist whined.
“You’ll be fine. I left you some Mountain Dew, Doritos, Playboys, and tissue paper. That would last the average man a few days.” He resealed the hatch and turned towards the cameramen.
“Sorry about that everyone,” he said after downing some Gatorade.
“It’s all good bruh,” One reporter, Mr. William Gillespie from the FimFiction News Network, said aloud.
“You sir, are now my nigga,” Obama stated as he pointed towards the slightly overweight man wearing a cyan trilby with rainbow coloured pinstripes. To which the reporter tipped his headgear in reply with fingertips that were stained orange. Obviously they obtained that shade from the dust and crumbs of his all Cheetos based diet.
The President adjusted his neck tie and got ready for round two of the addressing the nation. To think he could be outside playing basketball right now. But no, he has to run a country full of ungrateful, whiney ass people. Being the President is just bullshit some days. The lead cameraman held his fingers in the air, counting down from five.
“Greetings my fellow Americans. Today, I am here to address you on the current status of the Muslim extremist group called The Islamic State of Iraq and Syria, better known as ISIS. Today, at around 7 AM this morning, the highly classified mission known as ‘Operation Game of Drones’ was given the green light. A squadron of highly sophisticated Predator UAV’s launched a series of experimental munitions at large ISIS encampment in the Iraqi city of Mosul, blowing many of their men and all major leaders even more than sky high. The sheer precision of our missiles allowed us to accomplish this with the minimal casualty ratio of 47 civilians and structures per ISIS militant. The local militias and Iraqi Security Forces have since either captured or killed the remaining militants, thus making ISIS a thing of the past.”
The Commander In Chief stopped for a moment to receive much applause from his small audience of media representatives and White House Staff.
“In other news. Next week, new legislation will bring some big changes here in the capital, and quite possibly to the U.S. as well...”
Meanwhile…
The sounds of moaning and groaning in pain could be heard for hundreds of meters all around. In an large open field under a warm late afternoon’s sun lay hundreds of militants from ISIS amongst a few chunks of buildings and half a person’s car. The militants had their ears ringing, their intestines rearranged a little, and all in horrible pain. One man in particular was the first to wake up. He sat upright and rubbed his aching eyes. When he opened them, he was shocked to see what lay before him. Nothing but grass in a large green field. He could see something that resembled buildings of into the distance, as well as a mountain range to what seemed to be the north. But something didn’t seem right. It looked way too colourful for it to be the afternoon. He glanced to his side and saw his good friend Aladdin laying on his stomach. He gave him a good shove that seemed to have awaken him.
“What the fuck Habib? I’m trying to sleep,” Aladdin replied in a pissed off tone.
“Quit your bitching and look. Do you see those mountains and this grass? This ain't right, man. We’re not in Iraq anymore,” Habib sat his friend upright and pointed his head towards the horizon.
“Holy shit,” Habib’s friend said in awe of what lay before him.
“I know! Where the hell are we?”
“I don’t know, man. You sure this is all for real though? I mean that party we all had at Muhammad’s poppy farm was pretty tight.”
“Of course this is real dumbass! It’s impossible for us to have the same hallucination,” Habib explained.
“You think this has something to do with those American robots that Abdullah was talking about yesterday,” Aladdin asked while he grabbed his Kalashnikov off of the ground in front of him.
“Maybe. Didn’t he say something about experimental weapons?”
Back at Washington...
Barack Obama entered the now empty Press Room after a long day of being the President and shit. He popped open the hatch here he had being stowing his homie, shielding his eyes while doing so. Just in case Osama was in the middle of having a “private moment” with those playboys he left him. Thankfully there seemed to be no objectionably and/or disturbing sounds coming from the hiding place, so he peaked through to see his homeslice playing Battlefield 4 on the Xbox 360 he had provided for him earlier.
“Sup ’Sama. How’s it hanging?” He asked.
“Nothing much bruh, I just shot down a fully loaded Russian transport helicopter with a Stinger missile. I haven’t done that shit since the 80’s.”
“Cool stuff man. I just wanted to let you know that those ‘special warheads’ actually worked. Those ISIS dumbasses are done. How did you get a Hellfire missile to do that?”
“You remember that story from North Korea about the unicorn and whatever?”
“Yeah?”
“Let’s just say that it’s not all of that stuff they said was a story, and that I know some guys over there who can work some serious ‘magic’ with missiles. If you catch my drift.”
“Not really bruh.”
“Fuck it. Whatever. At least there is no one to bug us while we take over.”
“Hell yeah broseth,” Obama said as the two shared a fist‐bump.
Elsewhere…
“So what now genius?” Aladdin asked while he pulled back the charging handle on his AK to check if there was a round in the chamber. He kept the chamber empty before use after an accident with shooting a fellow jihadist in the foot a few weeks back.
“I don’t know, man. Probably wake up the others and try to figure out where the hell we are at. Then continue jihading I guess,” Habib said as he took a PKM that lied next to the groaning body of a comrade.
“Hell yeah! I love jihading! Wait, ain’t that Yusuf’s gun?” Aladdin asked.
“Finders Keepers bro.”
“Fair enough.”
The duo turned their attention to the sound of two other voices coming from behind them. They had to rub their eyes to make sure they weren’t having some kind of weed and homemade‐heroin induced hallucination. A lavender unicorn/pegasus hybrid thing with some type of puny dragon riding its back was walking in their direction. The horse‐thing also was levitating some kind of device in front of its face that clicked and whirred like a Geiger counter.
“You see Spike. I told you there were high levels of raw magic coming from this sector.” The horse said to the dragon.
“Uhhhh, T‐T‐Twilight…” the Dragon stammered while point a claw to the two militants.
The pony-thing-whatever-the-hell stared in awe at the two figure before her. She hurried to them to get a closer look.
“Omigoshomigoshomigosh! Spike do you see what I’m seeing?!” the lavender pony (yeah, let’s just stick with that) said in rapid fire.
“What are they?” the dragon asked while got closer. He had to tilt his head back just to see the face of the rather tall creature.
“Obviously they are some kind of undiscovered species,” she explained.
She summoned a magnifying glass and began to inspect the PKM in Habib’s hands. Habib stared nervously as the pony continued on. He couldn’t believe the shit he was seeing. Telekinesis, summoning stuff out of nowhere, and the fact that he, Aladdin, and the whatevers were all speaking English and understanding it. This was insane. He looked to his bro to see how he was faring. The guy was having a staring contest with the dragon. Unbelievable! Habib was getting too old for this shit, and he’s not even that old.
“Amazing craftsmanship on these tools!” she exclaimed.
Joke’s on her though. This was a beat to hell PKM that Yusuf got last week on the black market by trading eight goat’s testicles. But machine guns make you look cool, so Habib stole it anyways.
“Spike, I think they might be sentient,” she said in a voice of shock.
“HA! You blinked! I win!” Spike cheered after just winning the most intense battle of a man’s mettle whilst Aladdin rubbed his sore eyes in shame. Spike flicked his forked tongue at his defeated opponent. Aladdin growled at him in response, causing Spike to hide back behind the pony.
“Spike, knock it off. I’m about to make contact.”
“I think we already did.”
The pony shot the dragon a “You’re‐ruining‐the‐moment” look before returning attention to Habib.
“*Ahem* Hi! My name is Princess Twilight Sparkle, but you may call me Twilight, and that drake over there is my assistant Spike. What is your name,” she asked with a large smile.
Habib looked over to his bro to see if he would answer to this “Princess Twilight Sparkle” instead of him. Aladdin seemed to have the same idea as he did, so this conversation was going to go nowhere. They both looked to Twilight and Spike who seemed to be expecting an answer.
“I don’t know about this bro. What do you think?” Habib asked?
Aladdin took one look Habib and one to the foreign creatures.
“ALLAHU AKBAR INFIDELS!” he shouted as he racked back the charging handle and took aim.
“No! Wait!” Habib tried to grab the gun but it was too late.
BangBangBangBang
