I Find Osama Bin Laden

Don't get me wrong. I've always thought that if there was derring to be done, I was the guy to do it. But this was my vacation.

I had kind of known that Bin Laden's family had originally come from Wadi Hadramawt, but I certainly wasn't thinking about it when I was at this claustrophobic antique souvenir store in Seef, looking at all the weird old stuff for sale. Instead I was thinking about how damn hot it was. And then I noticed the owner... Nah, it couldn't be! I must have dropped my jaw, because he said, "Do I remind you of someone?"

"Yes," I blurted out, not stopping to think. "Osama Bin Laden!"

He grinned and held out his hand. "You know, you're only the second person in six years to have even noticed," he said.

"I can't believe that" I countered.

"No, it's true" he said. "Maybe it's the MTV generation. I don't know. It just seems like nobody pays any attention to anything any more."

"But, but, but..." I sputtered. "How can you just stand there with all those people dead?!"

He raised both hands and stepped back a little. "Hey, don't blame me for that."

"Don't blame you? Your name was all over 9/11."

"Yeah, my name was all over it. That's because I got paid for the use of my name. But I didn't actually do anything"

Maybe the heat was getting to me. I tried to think straight. "You mean to tell me that the conspiracy theorists are actually right and that the U.S. government planned 9/11?"

He snorted, "U.S. government??? Are you nuts? They could never pull off anything that complicated."

I was even more confused. Then it hit me: 'Oh my God, it was the Israelis! I had kind of guessed that all along!'

Now Osama was the one to look befuddled. "Israelis?' he said. They already own Wall Street. Why would they want to destroy it?"

"Okay," I said, giving up. "Then who IS responsible for 9/11?"

He leaned forward, raised an eyebrow, and whispered: "The architects."

'You mean, as in 'the architects of 9/11'?'

'No. As in: The architects. Of 9/11.'

'Wait a minute. You're telling me that a group of architects planned and executed 9/11?'

"Sure," he said. 'Them buildings was UG-lee!'

"Architects?!" I repeated. "There's no way that they would allow thousands of people to die!"

"Who are you kidding?" he said. "Ever since the time of the pharaohs they could care less how many people were killed building their precious little projects. And with 9/11 they could throw in a highly ironic post-modern performance piece to boot."

I still couldn't believe this. "But how could they even pay for it?"

He cocked an eye. "Haven't you seen all those buildings in Dubai? Shanghai? Hong Kong? Those guys are rich, man. And they just couldn't stand it that those crappy 1965 shitbox WTC buildings were dominating the New York skyline." I noticed a chair nearby and sat down. Osama handed me a cold Diet Pepsi. "Hey, I know it's hard," he said. "But you just don't want to cross those aesthete types."

It was slowly sinking in. 'But, but, but...' I stammered. 'But isn't the U.S. Government looking for you?'

He smirked. 'Hey, they're still looking for WMD.'

'But what if I went and told them what I know?'

'Good luck trying,' he said. 'The other guy who 'found' me? He told them that he had met with Bin Laden. That was two years ago and he's been at Gitmo ever since.'

'Okay, okay,' I said, giving up. 'But why are you here running an antique store in Yemen? I thought that you were really rich?'

He pulled out the pocket of his long white shirt to show that it was empty. 'You think one wife is expensive? Try fourteen!' Then he laughed. 'Just messing with you,' he said. 'Actually I bought a bunch of Google at the IPO and unloaded it all last year when it was at 700. I'm doing all right. But, hey, this is home. Have you tasted the honey from around here? And look at all this cool jewelry and woodwork.'

My head was still spinning, but Osama kept talking.

'I guess, praise Allah, that I've had a pretty charmed life so far. And what are the odds that you'd have a presidential candidate whose name rhymed with mine? Right now I don't know what to do: The Republicans are offering me $30 million dollars to lend my name to an 'attack' in October. Bill Clinton's offering me $40 million dollars to do one now.

'Either way,' he concluded with a smile. ''Terrorism' wins.'