Fade in: A giant silhouette projected against a huge screen. Long hair in a pony tail, a muscular man is performing crunches with exquisite form. Suddenly, the man curls into the “plough” position from yoga, and executes a “kip up” to land on his feet. Announcer Chick McGee calls out to the audience, “Ladies and Gentlemen, Mr. Tony Little!”
Thunderous applause from the crowd ensues, as the hyper-kinetic pitch man bounds across the stage to high-five his adoring fans.
Finally, after a couple of minutes of basking in the love of these fine Americans, Tony settles down, puts on his lavaliere microphone, and begins his latest pitch.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I am Tony Little. You may remember me from previous programs featuring my outstanding products, like the AbBlasterä and the Gliderunnerä. Well, tonight, I and some of my infomercial friends are going to introduce America (applause) to an all new product which will allow us all to sleep well at night again.
“I’m know it is painful to review our war on Islam, but this war has had such a great impact on our new product I think a quick overview is necessary.
“On September 11, 2001, Muslims declared war upon the United States by attacking the Pentagon and the World Trade Center with our own airliners. We declared war on terrorism.
“In October, 2001, we got the first anthrax infections. This was followed quickly in late November by the cyanide gas attacks in the Capitol, which took out several senators and some members of the Supreme Court. We determined that Al Queda launched the attacks, and they were still hosted by Afghanistan and were moving into Pakistan. We declared war on Afghanistan and Pakistan.
“Al Queda dropped the Golden Gate Bridge into the Pacific in January, 2002. President Bush Nuked Afghanistan and Pakistan.
“Finally, last month, another militant Islamic group detonated a nuclear device in Houston, Texas, and President Bush declared Unconditional War on Islam.
“This led to the development of the new product we will be demonstrating for you here today. President Bust looked to America’s greatest inventor to devise a warning against further attacks against America. This great inventor searched high and low, took elements from the best products of the past and brought them completely up to date. Ladies and Gentlemen, Mr. Ron Popiel!”
Thunderous applause, cheering, stamping, and chanting of RON, RON, RON.
Ron Popiel enters from right stage, dressed in a comfortable white cardigan, khaki slacks, and Birkenstocks.
“Wow, Tony, that was quite an introduction. Thanks so much. Folks, I’m Ron Popiel, inventor, entrepreneur, and American icon. You may not know me but I know you know my inventions. The Vegamaticä, the Pocket Fishermanä, and the Rotisserie Grillä to name just a few. I am proud of those inventions, but none has filled me with the pride I feel in my latest invention. When President Bush called and asked me to come up with something to prove to our Muslim enemies that there is a fate worse than death, I knew I had a challenge. After all, these people still hold public beheadings, be-handings, and ritual stonings in their soccer stadiums. I’d have to come up with something pretty freaking awful to catch their attention.”
“Geez Ron, I guess these Muslim bastards are pretty tough to impress in the cruelty department.”
“Yes, they are Tony. But fortunately I have a lifetime’s worth of work from which to draw inspiration. The Pocket Fishermanä, with its built-in tackle box and collapsible pole was perhaps my greatest invention. But try as I might, even with the included lure, I couldn’t come up with a piece of horrific torture equipment.
“The Vegamaticä did seem more applicable here. After all, (audience chants along) It SLICES, It DICES, it makes JULIENNE FRIES. I thought maybe a scaled-up version with a Briggs and Stratton engine would be able to generate the kind of fear our president is searching for.
“Then, as I was preparing a delicious, low cost, low fat dinner of teriyaki chicken kabobs in my Rotisserie Ovenä, it hit me. Piercing the chicken bits with the kabob, I realized I held the answer right in my hand. We wouldn’t need the Rotisserie Ovenä. After all, adult Muslims are tough, and we won’t be eating any. But I could scale up that Kabob. So, Tony without further ado, I would like to introduce my latest invention, and America’s latest weapon against Muslims, the Death KaBobä.”
Tony and Ron stand back as a 50-foot long horizontal gleaming metal pole is lowered from the ceiling.
Tony does some of his canned overacting as if he has never seen such an incredible device before. Big red applause lights encourage the audience to clap.
“Well, Ron, I know your reputation as an entrepreneur, inventor, and American icon, but this is just something else. I mean just look at it. It’s so long and shiny. Why, it must be at least 50 feet long.
“That’s right, Tony. It is 50 feet long! One foot for every state in the union. But this is much more than just state-of-the-art metallurgy and machining. This is a high-tech weapon against terrorism so powerful that I predict it will be hundreds of years before anyone ever thinks of fucking with us again.”
“Wow, that’s pretty strong talk. But can the Death Kabob back it up with real-world performance. And more importantly, is it constitutional?”
“Well, Tony, you mentioned those cyanide attacks against our nations capitol. The resulting deaths shifted the balance of power in the Senate back to the Republicans. That gas also killed Ruth Bader Ginsburg, David Souter, and Stephen Breyer. With justices Limbaugh, Bork, and William Bennett on the court, we discovered there is no constitutional protection against unusual punishment for Muslim terrorists.”
[Wild, spontaneous applause. Audience starts chanting Death KaBobä, Death KaBobä.]
“That’s just fantastic. I can’t wait to see it in action. But I must get back on my Gliderunnerä soon, or I will lose my fabulous midsection. Here comes Martha Stewart to show us how to prepare a Muslim for hideous display on a Death KaBobä.”
[Tony Little makes one more pass high-fiving the audience before sprinting off stage; Martha Stewart enters from stage left in a beautiful seafoam dress, trimmed in lace.]
“So, Martha, I understand you have been doing some research and believe that you have been able to make the Death KaBobä even more hideous?”
“Oh no, Ron. The Death KaBobä is perfect just as it is. I like to deal in the more feminine arts after all, and proper preparation and presentation of your Muslim can increase not only his pain, but also his humiliation severalfold. In my studies of Muslim culture, I learned that about the worst thing short of death for a Muslim is to be caned by a butch, nearly-nude, dominatrix lesbian. So, I brought along Pat, whose domestic partner was killed when the Golden Gate Bridge dropped. Come on out, Pat!”
[From Stage Right comes Pat, dressed in a spiked collar, spiked wristbands, thigh high leather boots, and, inexplicably, a leather garter belt with the garters swinging free. Large, ghoulish tattoos cover much of her body, and her nipples shine with piercings. She is swinging a five-foot piece of split bamboo; the wind can be heard whistling as she swings it.]
“Chick McGee, why don’t you tell us what she’s wearing?”
“Sure thing, Martha. Those boots are made of kidskin to make them extra soft and supple. The garter is also made of kid, but the collar and wristbands are made of full steerhide for durability. All are available at Bob and Tom’s House of Pain in San Francisco. Her tattoos are by Dave, Skunk, Butch, and Spike at Skin Deep. Those nipple rings are by Hole in One Body Piercing. After all, you may only have one body, but you can always put more holes in it. Finally, that cane she is swinging is from the police department in Singapore, where they know a thing or two about caning. Ouch.”
“Chick, can you bring out our first Muslim?”
“Absolutely, Ron. Meet Al Saed Bin Abdul Abdullah. We’re pretty sure that he was involved in the anthrax attacks, but, since we caught him with a rag on his head praying to Mecca, we don’t even care. We recently changed the Constitution so you now have a constitutional right to be free of Muslims.]
[Thunderous boos greet Abdullah as he is led across the stage.]
“Now, Martha, can you walk us through the preparations here?”
“Sure thing, Ron. First we strip our Muslim naked. Then we take these plastic wire ties, and secure his feet to these crossbars [a menacing metal frame has just dropped from the ceiling]. Now, personally, I prefer your classic black wire ties, but you know the kids nowadays, they like the neon colors. The most important thing is to get quality wire ties that are strong enough to take some good struggling. Then his hands go here and here, and we are ready for Pat to go to work.”
[Pat starts laying into Abdullah with great vigor and relish, and soon the skin all over his body is turned into a bright red latticework of dripping lacerations.]
“Thanks Pat. Now, may I introduce you to the surviving members of Fire Company 234? Just over 70% of their company were killed in the collapse of the World Trade Center, way back in 2001.”
[Thunderous applause as Pat exits the stage, and the eight men of Fire Company 234 arrive in their fireman’s clothing, each with a wheelbarrow full of salt and a shovel.]
“Now Martha, are these firemen going to actually throw salt onto that man’s wounds.”
“I don’t know, Ron. Let’s poll the audience.”
[The sound of a ticking clock as the audience votes ‘yes’ or ‘no’ on the salt issue.]
“Well Martha, the votes are in, and frankly, I’m surprised here. I thought some of them might want salt, but I thought more of them would want to get right into the Death KaBobä. Yet here are the results, and over 94% of the audience wants salt in Abdullah’s wounds.”
“Don’t be too disappointed, Ron. Salting fresh wounds like these is a time-honored tradition throughout the torturing community. It just wouldn’t be right to go straight to the Death KaBobä without salting first.”
“Well, you should know, Martha. Fire Company 234, let’s salt him up.”
[Abdullah’s screams intensify, as he thrashes against his bonds.]
“Well, Martha, I think we all learned a great deal about the proper preparation of a Muslim. Thank you so much for coming. But now, it is my great pleasure to introduce to you a good friend of mine, and a man who knows a thing or two about an anal probe, Mr. Richard Simmons.”
[Richard jogs out onto the stage, frizzy perm flopping ever so slightly, dressed in his uniform of satin shorts and tank top. All the heavy, older women start cheering and clapping wildly.]
“Thanks for the introduction, Chick. And thank you, Ron, for bringing me here today, and letting me help introduce this great new product.”
“No, thank you Richard. You were a big help in designing the Death Kabobä. A big part of the Death Kabobä is supposed to be the hideous torture, and thanks to your design improvements, I think we can make old Abdullah curse his mother and the day he was born. Sure, he’s in a great deal of pain right now, but I’m pretty sure we can dial it up a notch or two.”
“We sure can, Ron.”
“Now, you helped with the design of the Death KaBobä, drawing extensively on your own life experiences. Why don’t you tell us some of the things you have added to our latest model.”
“Well, Ron, you can see here at the end, how it is just covered with broken glass. That was one of mine. Trust me, you never want to stick broken glass up your ass. Sure, it sounds like fun, but on a list of things that just don’t belong in your ass, trust me, broken glass is right up at the top.”
“Whoa, Richard, I guess it would be. But what else did you bring to the Death KaBobä?”
“Well, I guess other than the overall shape of the tip, (modeled on my own 3 inch raging member) it would be the 220v Electro-shock capability built into the first 18 inches of the Death KaBobä. Take it from me, you don’t want to have 18 inches of anything in your ass carrying that kind of current.”
“Now, didn’t you work to make this heads or tails capable?”
“Absolutely, Ron. I personally checked to make sure the Death KaBobä can be uncomfortably taken in either the mouth or the ass.”
“Well, it looks like it’s about time to show our audience what they have been waiting for. But first, let’s ask little Timmy, whose father was on board that jet that crashed in Pennsylvania to flip this coin for us. Timmy, will you do the honors?”
“I don’t need any fucking coin toss. He’s getting it in the ass, Ron.”
[Wild cheers erupt from the audience.]
“Thank you Timmy. Well, Chick McGee, can you call the ‘play by play’ here, explaining exactly what is happening to Abdullah?”
“You betcha, Ron. Notice how the Death KaBobä is being rotated into the vertical position. That three-inch head molded on Richard Simmons’ own raging penis is barely visible from 50-feet away. Now, this energy-saving design is actually going to use Abdullah’s own body weight to torture and kill him. [Audience chants along ‘Just Set It and Forget It’].
“Watch now, as Abdullah, hands and feet still bound to the frame, is lowered onto the ‘head’ of the Death KaBobä. Look at him squirm as that broken glass cuts into his asshole. Just a couple more inches, right about there, and the fun really begins.
“Little Timmy has a remote control for the 220v anal probe portion of the Death KaBobä. But before little Timmy presses that button, we should cut Abdullah’s legs free so we can all enjoy some astonishing flailing. There, his legs are released; we can hear his cries of pain, what with the caning, the salting, and the broken glass in the butt. But now let’s watch and listen as he is hit with 220v right in the ass.”
[Little Timmy mashes his finger down on the remote control. The audience cheers wildly as Abdullah’s legs start to gyrate and flail uncontrollably. His screams of agony intensify; the louder he screams, the more he flails, the farther he settles onto the Death KaBobä. Huge chortles of laughter are heard, and the cheering becomes a deafening roar as smoke starts rising from Abdullah’s ass.]
“Hey there, Timmy, you might want to go a little easy on the juice. After all, in medieval times, this form of torture and death used to last up to 10 hours. Ah, what the hell. We have over a billion more to go. Watch, now, as Abdullah settles into his new home in Hell, and his body continues to settle on the Death KaBobä. Remember [audience chanting] ‘Just Set It and Forget It’. There comes the ‘head’ right out old Abdullah’s mouth. And there he goes sliding down to the bottom.”
“That’s right Chick. Now, this standard 50-foot Death KaBob can handle up to thirteen Muslims. But what if you want to kill even more? What are you going to do? Sure, you could buy additional Death KaBobsä, but maybe you only have fifteen or sixteen Muslims whose rotting bodies you will leave in front of the neighborhood mosque as a message to not even think about fucking with America. What do you do then?
“Why you use these handy dandy Death KaBobä Extenders. Ten feet of high-quality stainless steel. Just unscrew the 220v anal probe, screw on the Death KaBobä Extender, and screw the anal probe right back on. Up to three Death KaBobä Extenders can be used, giving you the ability to make a gruesome 80-foot totem pole of horrific death. That’s over seventeen Muslims, ass to mouth, rotting in front of the neighborhood mosque, the rug market, the brass market, the American Embassy, any place with a high density of Muslims needing a quick lesson about fucking with America.
“Well, Ladies and Gentlemen that concludes our demonstration. I want to thank my fellow presenters Tony Little, Martha Stewart, and Richard Simmons, but most of all, I want to thank you for coming out today. And remember, if you come up with any way to make the Death KaBobä even more gruesome, more horrific, and more mind-bendingly painful, give me a call. I’m Ron Popiel, inventor, entrepreneur, and American icon, and I hope you have enjoyed this introduction to my latest, and perhaps greatest invention: the Death KaBobä.”