The Hell Times

Episode One: Hitler In Rehab

There is a place,
an alternative to earth.
Where doing wrong is right,
and doing right is wrong.

Hitler is here,
Saddam is here,
And so are Marilyn Monroe and Grandma Liz.
And they all do wrong, and here doing wrong is right.

You too can come to this place,

where doing wrong is right,
if you do wrong where doing wrong is wrong.

Think of hell as the campus of a large organization. The buildings are up to five hundred
floors tall and everyone has a room of their own. Not all sinners who have died since the
beginning of time are here. After a hundred or so years Satan dispatches everyone to one
of his satellite campuses. Not much is talked about what happens there.

People eat not because they get hungry but for pleasure. One can survive without food.
There is lots of water and alcohol, same brands as there are on earth. People remain the
same age they were when they died. There is a sun, a moon, day and night, just like on
earth.

Most people lock themselves up in their rooms frustrated by the no frills life here. There
is also the anxiety of not knowing what will happen next, after hell, for though not
explicitly discussed its common knowledge something will eventually happen. Whether
good or bad no one seems to know.

There are people who live a life of regret in hell. These are especially those who had an
opportunity to live a full sinful life on earth but didn’t. A man whose only sin was
cheating on his wife once will be on the edge of madness to know he ended up in the
same place as Hitler

On one end of the campus is a building two floors high. Satan and his board members
have their offices there. It’s said no one has been to Satan’s office and the closest anyone
has been is the boardroom, which is next to it.

It’s in the boardroom where news sins are brainstormed and strategies to make people
continue living a life of sin are discussed before being implemented. The boardroom
looks like that of any corporate organization on earth .Its medium sized and can hold
about twenty people, or more if squeezed. There is a medium sized plain red clock
hanging on one wall and an equally plain swivel chair made of soft leather. But it’s the
table which shocks anyone to the reality of being in hell’s boardroom. It’s made of
human bones.

The top is made in such a way that the bones interlock and any spaces left filled with
smaller bones, like those of children. The legs are made by sticking together hundreds of
bones, the size of the small toe. The bones are in their natural color, some white, cream
and others turning to brown.

Seeing the table for the first time one is overwhelmed by its beauty, artistry and the
patience that must have gone into making it. Picking bone by bone and trying to fit them
as one would a mortise joint must have taken years.

But what amazed me those initial days after seeing the table was the quality of the bones.
Having broken the bones of a number of my victims by softly hitting them with the butt
of a pistol or awkwardly twisting the girls when raping them I expected the bones to be as
fragile .I even feared placing my hands on it. That was until I saw Miss Ching in action.

A thin Burmese woman of about eighty years ,Miss Ching is five feet tall and she speaks
in such a weak voice that I fear she is about to die again. Once in a while Miss Ching
attends board meetings. And as is the characteristic of the meetings, as you will see later,
once in a while they degenerate to shouting matches. To be heard at such times Miss
Ching bangs a small but heavy iron mallet on the table until everybody perhaps fearing
that the table will break keeps quiet and listens to her. But the table doesn’t break, not
even the slightest of cracks is visible on the bones she hits. The bones are that tough .Its
only after I saw how different people interacted with the table did I ascertain that they
were indeed human bones and where they came from.

Living on earth is an addiction; no one wants to die. But those who quit the habit are
labeled weak. Yet quitters, those who commit suicide, are the strong ones, brave enough
to leave a habit they consider harmful to themselves and even to others behind and start a
fresh.

There are many who would like to quit; men stressed by their nagging wives and women
tired of their poor cheating husbands. Nonetheless the fear of the unknown and earth’s
withdrawal effects makes them hesitant .Ironically quitting living is easier than stopping
other earthly addictions like alcoholism; Shrinks and rehabs are not needed. Only two
fingers.

Ben Klasser was one of the brave ones. On earth he ran an organization in the US
promoting the supremacy of the white race. Ben rather than have the open mindedness of
others who kill themselves he seemed to have set his mind on what to expect in the
unknown that he was going to. I was present when he landed here.

“Where am I?” he asked

“In hell” I said.

He gasped then said “Shit! And Satan is black”

Since then he locked himself in his room and was rarely seen. When Obama decided to
run for president of the US, Satan saw an opportunity to create a race related sin. Ben
Klasser being one of the most recent and prominent racist from earth, the board asked me
to have a chat with him to see if he could provide any ideas.

A message was sent to him and he met me alone in the boardroom.

“These bones can’t be of white people” he said after going round the table twice.

“I don’t know. But why not?”

“White people don’t have white bones”

“What color are they? Black?” I asked

He didn’t answer but abruptly started laughing and as abruptly stopped. With his right
index finger he started tapping the table. He looked up, closed his eyes and said smiling
“Sotheby’s. Lot No 666. Bones by Satan.”

He walked out and was never bothered again.

Shortly after this incident Mobutu Seseko took to sitting at particular position I had been
used to during meetings I asked him why .He said the bone at that particular position
looked like that of an opponent he had killed why still president. “I am sure it is the one”
he said.

That did it for me. I concluded the bones were from Africa. Generally the white looked
at the table as a piece of art, appreciating its aesthetic value and showing little interest in
the source of the bones. The Africans looked at it with a knowing look, the same way one
would if they went for an interview only to find one of the panelists is the next door
neighbor with whom you shared a drink the previous night. And it made sense to me; the
bones were hard and stiff because they were baked by the hot African sun, and had little
moisture in them. Then again such a large number of tough bones could only come from
Africa where hundreds die of hunger.

At one time I decided to ask Emperor Haile Selassie his opinion about the bones. The
emperor came to hell knowing that his empire extended only to the borders of Ethiopia
only to get a rare chance to look at earth from here and see dreadlocked people in almost
every country singing songs in his praise. Others sticking posters and wearing badges
with his image. And all these smoking marijuana and getting into a chatting frenzy
calling out his name.

He started frisking new comers for marijuana. He now smokes enough to knock out any
Jamaican for a few days.

“Are these bones from Ethiopia?”

He looked at me with his red eyes, which seemed to stare past me.

“They can’t be from the homeland of the world’s emperor .They cant be” he said

“And why not?”

“Give the emperor some little time and he will give you a reason”

We met six days later. “I know why the bones can’t be from Ethiopia”, he said. He was
holding a dying piece of marijuana between his thumb and index finger. “The We Are
The World concert changed the climate in Ethiopia .It now rains.”

Today there is a board meeting and Hitler one of the key members might not be present.
Hitler is in rehab. He has been there for two weeks. Hitler is depressed because nothing is
coming out of Iran. The ayatollahs are still bickering and not making plans to drop Israel
a nuclear bomb like he wanted. Now he doubts whether they own one.

Hitler hasn’t changed much, at least physically. He is still the same man as in that black
and white photo that accompanies stories about him in newspapers on earth.

Before going to rehab Hitler was always seen carrying stacks of papers. He called them
dossier on the latest happening on earth from the Getsapo.The papers ranged from
chocolate wrappers to bus tickets a German policeman had in his pocket when he died.
Hitler searches the pocket of German government officials coming this way, picking
anything, for what he calls further analysis and decoding.

The first time I met Hitler here in hell I sought to confirm a rumor I had heard in school.

“Is it true that you were gay?” I asked.

“I didn’t have a woman” he said

“So that means you were gay?”

“No! Its women who drive men to other men!” he said

Talking about men, a week before he went down we received the agenda of today’s
meeting: Increasing the number of men in hell. Its details such as those that confirm
Satan’s brilliance in running hell. For it had escaped everyone that in the last few years
the number of women coming to hell had surpassed men by almost twice. Whereas the
overall number of people in hell has increased, the proportions still matter to Satan if he
is to validate his gain.

“What do you think of the agenda?” I asked Hitler when I bumped into him.

He looked at me as if I had just asked a very obvious question, and then said “Is there
anything to think about? Cause fires in strip clubs and stampedes in football stadiums.
Then we will have more men than we need”

Such is his rushed thought. For though his remedy might increase the number of men in
hell in the short run, it will have the opposite effect in the long run. Unexplained fires and
stampedes will have the effect of creating the kind of fear emanating from a reminder of
the reality of death. When death looks so real as to happen in a strip club people retreat to
the presumed safety of their houses, they try to be good in the hope that death will leave
the good ones alone. That explains why there are more Americans in hell than Iraqis
though the latter die more often.

A little thought though would show that the women have increased because marketing
campaigns on earth have been telling women it’s alright to sin while men who sin are
considered irresponsible and without focus. Playing around with that would certainly
increase the number of men here for many years to come. Yet Satan would rather listen to
Hitler than me. The reason I am happy that he is in rehab. If only he could stick there
longer I might get chance to modernize hell and the whole concept of sin.

When Satan noted that Michael Jackson’s music had lost its sin appeal and now had a
positive effect on those who listened to it, He asked the board what to do. Hitler said MJ
should be killed. Satan agreed. He died but the effect was to increase sales of his music
and thus spread the positive effect of the music further. A foot in mouth remark during
an interview with Larry King could have been more effective.

“MJ what do you think of president Obama?”

“He is neither black nor white. It only matters when you are black or white.”

For your information MJ is not in hell.

Hitler’s obsessive hatred of the Jews while in hell is odd. A few days after arriving here
one realizes hell is the end of sin of the earth variety. There is no competition for power,
pleasure and self preservation which make sin on earth a necessity. Good and bad lose
meaning and one lives in a suspended state which can only be experienced and not
explained. Those few like Hitler who continue hating are escapists masturbating their
psyches for no logical reasons. Ironically those who died during Hitler’s reign don’t
loathe him as much. This is because of a maturity of thought that makes them realize the
reason they are in hell is not because they died but because of their sins, the weight not
withstanding.

Take me for instance. The way I ended in hell is by being bad and running out of good
luck. I killed and raped women. I killed because I didn’t want to work so I bought a gun
and shot the brains of those who couldn’t let go their wallets fast enough. I raped because
at twenty four years I was broke, short and bald .The decent girls didn’t want to do have
anything to do with me. The only way they could part their legs for the loser I seemed
was if I stuck a gun on their heads. I was killed by a policeman in Nairobi where I lived.

It’s very okay for you to burn with indignation and say I deserve to be in hell. Go ahead
and have fun doing it. But the way it works in these things is by Least Common Multiple,
which is sin. You who lied to your son that boys come from bees and girls from birds are
no different from the FBI’s most wanted man, the one who has killed thousands.
Magnitude only matters to you hypocritical human beings on earth.

It was by chance that I became a member of hell’s board. In hell due to being lost in
regrets and anxieties one is left with no emotions to share thus making it difficult to fall
in love .However on earth anxieties and regrets are the basis of many relationships.
Bonds on earth are formed on the belief that the other party will help erase anxieties and
make up for personal mistakes. Earthly anxieties which are mostly caused by money,
security and health are more or less manageable. In hell where it is clear everyone is
equal no one is stupid enough to dedicate scarce emotions to a partner in the hope they
will act superman to make life here worry free. Satan too with his ever present half smile
does not offer a Satan-for-us-all assurance. He too seems lost in worries about the
unknown. And occasional news that an earthly toughie like Chairman Mao is constantly
locked in his room doesn’t make anyone seem infallible.

But the first weeks before the knowledge sinks in one is emotionally vulnerable. A week
after my arrival in hell I hang out at the delivery room. I was still earth sick and wanted to
deflect my thoughts from the fact that I was in hell. People drop into hell from a large
wide pipe protruding from the roof of a large room; the delivery room. Perhaps other than
Satan no one else knows where the pipe comes from. One comes to consciousness after
dropping on the floor of the room. People are in the same clothes or state as they were
when dying. However for those who die as a result of injuries such as car accidents or
gun shots the body is repaired and there is no trace of wounds. Hell’s language is English.
There is no bureaucracy in hell’s arrival. After dropping one of the many ushers present
gives the new resident a piece of paper with the room number and how to get there. After
that everyone is on his own.

Usually there is a large group of people waiting outside the delivery room. There are
those who are there to have fun looking at shocked newcomers. On the day I arrived an
actress looked at the paper with her room details and said “Come on, I can’t be in hell. I
was on my way to a charity event.”
Other people wait at the delivery room to ask about what is happening on earth. To some
it’s a sort of earth sickness before the realization that hell is a one way trip sinks. While
for others it’s the joy of being spectators of what is happening on earth while detached
from it. Like in the movies. Talking about earthly happenings is a favorite past time of
many.

A sizeable number also wait so as to frisk the pockets of confused new arrivals. One
comes with whatever was in their pockets at the time of their death. The first day outside
the delivery I hoped to hear someone talk about my murder and what had happened to the
policeman who killed me since I also shot at him. There was no news. Nevertheless it
was exciting to see the confusion of the new arrivals .A particular woman caught my
attention.

She was the kind of woman one can’t fail to notice. Those though not exceptionally
beautiful radiate something unexplainable that makes people focus on them. At around
five and a half feet tall, she was slightly taller than me. Her facial skin was very light, like
that of a black woman who has successfully bleached her face. Her lips were big and
seemed to protrude, like the nose does, from her face. The lips were covered by a thick
layer of red lipstick. Her eyes were large and seemed not to blink. She walked with her
fat hands astride; it looked as if she moved together the bubble of air surrounding her.

The first time I saw her she was walking towards the delivery room. She was in a tight
blue dress and with exaggeration swung her hips. Some men made cat calls, but holding a
small silver handbag, she held her head high and moved on with an indifference that
looked artificial. Her lips were pouted and I could see she was trying very hard not to
smile.

She went inside the delivery room briefly , then got out and stood outside, but a little
further from the others .From a distance I saw an usher take a pretty shaken woman to
her. The usher stood aside. She muttered something and the newly arrived woman opened
her mouth. .The hell veteran looked inside the mouth, lightening it with a small torch like
a dentist. After some few minutes she said something and the usher took the woman
newcomer away. She did this to two more women then she walked away in the same
style she had walked in.

The second day I went to the delivery room because I wanted to see the majestic woman.
Her style had made me think she was Satan who I had not met. She didn’t turn up till the
third day. On this day I met her standing at the same spot. She was looking at herself on a
mirror. A woman was brought to her. She put the mirror aside and removed a small torch
from her handbag. One of the woman’s tooth was glittering, even from a distance and she
tapped it several times with her index finger. He then removed a magnifying glass from
the same silver handbag and focused on the tooth. By now I had moved close to her
“Fake” she said and gestured to the usher to move the woman who was now crying away.
She then turned to me as if we had known each other for so long
“Isn’t there anything on earth that is real these days?” she asked.

“Well depends on what you are looking for” I said.

“Diamonds, fucking diamond teeth”

“I left De beers still in business “I said”

“How? Seems nowadays women can’t make men buy them diamonds”

“Or women buy the diamonds themselves”

“ A diamond is only valuable to a woman if a man has bought it for her. Otherwise it’s
plastic!” she said.

“Well maybe the women with diamonds don’t come this way”

She sternly looked at me.” Don’t be cheeky. There must be something evil in a woman
who convinces a man to buy her something that lasts forever”

We met again on my fifth day in hell.

“What’s your name?” she asked

“Njooro.What's yours?”

“Dotty. On earth they called me Dee”

After that I craved to see Dotty everyday. If I didn’t I locked myself in my room.

“We are here to stay and we better make the best of it” she told me once.

“What were you doing on earth?” I asked her.

“Many things. Never mind”

I guessed she was a pimp.She talked and had the looks of the pimps I had seen in movies.

“I have slept with more than thirty presidents and hundreds of music and film stars
present here” she told me one day. We were sited on one of the hundreds of benches in
hell. She was smoking and sipping red wine.

“An achievement?” I said “Most of the presidents have fat bellies and the stars have slept
with all the actresses and models”
“You don’t get it! The closet I came to kissing the stars on earth was by watching their
shows and using their fragrances.” She said “Now I kiss them real time and smell their
sweat”

“Makes some little sense. But I don’t think a naked Idi Amin is a pleasant sight”

“The fat ones are every girl’s on earth fantasy. They have all the wealth of their countries
in their fat bellies!” She smiled then said “The closest a girl could come to sleeping with
a fat president is to put a cross next to their names on ballot papers.”

I fell in love with Dotty but in the special way a boy falls in love with a sugar mummy” I
know what you feel about me” She told me one day, even before I had confessed love for
her.

“What?”

“Cut the chase.Everyone felt the same initially. You know what I think, we should go
have sex”

“But its not sex I want”

“Sex completes love equations on earth. Doesn’t it?”

“My feelings go beyond sex”

“Love without lust? That neither happens on earth nor in hell”

We had sex in a large plain room with a huge bed. This was my first sexual experience in
hell. It was flat .There was nothing exciting about it. Perhaps not because sex was readily
available but due to the fact that the naughty element of sex that makes it the mischievous
act it is on earth was lacking.

In hell it is alright to have sex in public but few people do it. Many prefer lock
themselves in their rooms in the hope that this will create an adrenaline rush to spark
some excitement in the act but it doesn’t happen.

For the men there are no bragging rights .You slept with Miss World yesterday? No one
cares, anybody can do it.

Sleeping with Marilyn Monroe is the only thing that can get a man in hell sex bragging
rights. She has never slept with anyone since she came down here and vows never to. “A
man in hell is not good enough for me” she tells any man who wants to lay her.

Two days after the sex we were sitting with Dotty on a bench. She was smoking and
fiddling with her diamond necklace. I was playing with my pistol. I had acquired a pistol
from a thug who had been shot. It was the kind of pistol I wished to have but couldn’t
acquire in Nairobi. In hell it was nothing more than a toy because even if I shot at
anybody they wouldn’t die or get hurt so I just enjoyed shooting arbitrarily and wishing I
had it on earth.

“Bet you reckon there is something better than loving me” Dotty said. My emotions had
cooled down and the enthusiasm of being with her a little deflated, but she still made
great company.

“And what would that be?” I asked

“Helping out Satan” she said

“He needs help?”

“Not exactly. What if everyone on earth came this way?”

“Means nothing to me”

“There is security in numbers you know”

Dotty turned out to be Satan’s personal assistant in a way or another. She helped
constitute the board and was its secretary. About two hundred people were eligible to sit
in the board. However at any one time less than twenty attend the board. It was not a
must and there were no special privleillges or allowances paid.

Those chosen had some expertise in some sort of sin. Many were those who had excelled
on earth doing what in human terms is bad. Others were not exceptional in sin but
knowledgeable in their field; music, technology, politics or religion. There were others
who fell in neither category but were in good terms with Dotty. Such weren’t many.

The board has its veterans. Those members who never miss a meeting. Hitler, Miss
Ching, Mobutu and I are among those. Attending the meeting is somehow a mechanical
exercise. Our motivation is just the need to be useful. But that has grown in us and turned
to a game. We want to outsmart our fellow board members in ideas. Most important we
want to outsmart fellow human beings. One of the best feelings in hell is to see human
beings on earth fall to a sin you have invented. Well Satan seems to have fun having us
around.

There are ten people in today’s meeting. Only Satan has a permanent position. He sits at
the head of the table. Everybody else can sit wherever they wish. There is though an
unwritten rule that certain positions belong to particular board members. Dotty seats on
the chair next to Satan on the immediate left. Hitler is on the opposite sit on the right.
Mobutu would rather walk out of the board than not sit next to his favorite bone. I like
sitting somewhere in the middle where I can get a good glimpse of everyone.

Satan is white. If the board is meeting on a Friday or Saturday he looks forty. The front
part of his hair dyed black. If on a Sunday or Monday he looks seventy, his hair all white
and shaggy.

At all times Satan is to be seen sipping a drink from an opaque plastic bottle. Dotty calls
it Devil In The Details, the only drink made from the choicest of sins. A man killing a
thousand people is not a choice sin. But a man killing his wife, his mother in law, and his
two children, then chopping their heads and making soup which he drinks is a choice sin.
I hear there is man in hell whose job is to hunt for choice sins on earth then condense
them to liquid form for Satan’s pleasure.

Satan lets out a random laugh every twenty minutes or so. It’s not triggered by anything
obviously funny. It starts slowly then build up to aloud climax lasting about thirty
seconds. The laughter is fresh and sounds hollow and haunting every time. That’s the
closet he comes to the image human beings on earth have of him.

Satan is always the last to arrive for the meeting. Before he comes people engage in small
talk, but tactfully avoiding the agenda. It as if everyone is afraid someone else will
plagiarize their ideas before presenting to Satan.

Hitler’s seat is empty. There is no talk of him. It is as if he is being expected to walk in.
Dotty is looking at some papers. They look like cuttings from a fashion magazine. Hitler
usually brings three big files to the meeting. He opens them and places them in front of
him. During the whole duration of the meeting he does not refer to the files even once.
But occasionally he pushes a file in front of Satan and points at something. Satan then
looks at it and lets out his classical laugh. At such moments Hitler would be stone faced.
It is irritating

Satan walked in holding his bottle of Devil in the Details (DiD) in his left hand. He was
in a flowery red shirt and black jeans. There are no formalities and the meeting is
considered open once Satan sits down and takes a sip of DiD. Not before the sip.

“The floor is now open to make your contributions as regards today’s agenda” Dotty said
holding a pen ready to take minutes.

“Where is Hitler?” Satan asked looking at the empty seat. There were murmurs everyone
looking down but stealing side glances at Dotty. Before anyone could say anything he let
out one of his guffaws. Everyone looked at him but as soon as he had finished we were
back looking at our papers.

“I was expecting him today. I don’t know what could have happened” Dotty answered,
the rest of us looking at her.
“Get the doctor here” Satan said. Dotty went out, came back and shortly after the doctor
walked in.

Doctor Tim used to operate the Life Cant Get Worse clinic in Haiti. It was a psychiatric
and abortion clinic. He was killed by some religious extremists.

“Doctor is it true that Hitler has Syphilis and it’s what is driving him mad?” Miss Ching
asked as a matter of fact even before the doctor had sat down.

The doctor looked through his thick spectacles and said “As much as syphilis is an earth
disease, it is a well known fact that for the whole duration Hitler has been in hell he has
not shown any interest in women. And just to be sure I have checked and confirmed he
has one ball. That means a lot in matters involving acquiring syphilis. ”

“Then what is it? The Jews?” Satan asked

“I would say it’s the Arabs. If Hitler can be assured the Arabs have the capacity to
exterminate Israel, and then he would be cured” .The doctor now stood up and started
moving round the room. “I have tried everything .I even told him that you Satan can go
assure him that one of the Arabs has the potential of dropping Israel a nuke. Do you know
what he said after I told him that? The doctor now paused and looked across the room.

There were murmurs but no one said anything outright.

“He didn’t say anything” The doctor continued “But he gave me a look that said he
wouldn’t believe you even if you went to his bedside and gave the assurance. He then
went into a fit followed by a coma.” Satan let out a laugh. And the rest of us thinking that
the doctor must have hurt Satan joined in to try hide the embarrassment.

I have always wondered about Satan’s powers. Initially I thought he could read my mind
during the meetings. So during one meeting I silently criticized everything he said. But he
didn’t show any reaction as if he had read my mind. Yet with Satan you can never be
sure. He shows some indifference in almost everything but occasionally say something
brilliant that will overshadow all the aloofness and naivety he had previously shown. And
then sometimes he shows he has powers to control the minds of human beings on earth
and to kill. On earth Satan is supposed to be the all powerful being who can read minds,
manipulate human beings and know it all. If he is, he doesn’t show it in any open way or
he is very patient with us. His aloofness is sometimes so irritating that I feel he is taking
us members of his board for a ride. He might just be using us to get a deeper
understanding of human beings or as a cast for reality television show to be shown in his
satellite campuses.
“But I understand him” The doctor continued. He was now standing behind Satan “ You
seem to spend most of the time here in hell and one can assume that you don’t know
exactly what is happening on earth .Most of the time you only listen what we say. And
you don’t talk much to help anyone actually believe you know what is going on all over.

Satan let out a laugh. The rest of us were now tense. We thought that the doctor had
crossed limits and now Satan was about to do something to show his powers.

“Not that I doubt you are Satan, and what you are capable of but truth be told, and if I
look at it from a medical point of view, you are not in the best position to heal Hitler from
his depression which is getting worse by the day.

“Enough of that. What then is the solution?” Dotty asked.

The doctor moved slowly round the room saying nothing until he was behind Satan.

“He seems to have blind faith in Iran” The doctor said. “He can only be cured if someone
assures him that Iran has a nuclear bomb and can drop it on Israel.” Satan abruptly looked
behind at the doctor, and he looked straight back then said. “That person has to be one
who is assumed to be an authority in these matters. He must be a figure Hitler can trust”

“Do you have someone in mind?” Dotty asked. I have never seen her look so stern.

“I have thought about it for a long time.” The doctor said. He was looking at Satan. “The
only person with the capability of healing Hitler is Saddam Hussein.”

There was silence in the room. I had expected Satan to laugh at that particular moment
but he didn’t. Instead he took two quick sips of DiD and stared in the blankness like the
rest of us.

Dotty broke the silence” Well if Saddam can do it, then let it be. Do I get him here?”

The last image of Saddam on earth is of a frail unshaven man about to be executed. That
has changed. Saddam has regained his strength, he shaves and only leaves the moustache
He somehow acquired the old uniform of the Iraq army which he wears always. Saddam
got a new hobby. Once in a while he walks to the delivery room and waits for the
incoming Americans. He then lowers his pants and makes them literally kiss his
ass.Saddam has never looked so happy like when an American government official has
his lips on his bare bottom.

“Get him here” Satan said.

Dotty went out briefly.

“He should be on his way” she said when he was back.

The doctor was now sited. He was whistling some incompressible tune. All of us except
Satan were looking down pretending to be in deep thought but simply wondering where
all this was going to.

Saddam walked came in after about fifteen minutes. He was in his army uniform, a pistol
strapped to his waist. He was eligible to attend the board meetings but had come less than
five times during which he had contributed nothing and walked away before the meeting
was over.

He went and sat where Hitler usually did.

“The reason we have called you here is because we want you to save Hitler.” Satan said,
and then waved at the doctor to explain. He rose up, stood up behind Saddam and
repeated almost all what he had said before.

Saddam listened nodding his head and smiling gently. After the doctor was done Saddam
looked at Satan and said.

“I can do it, but only on one condition”

“What do you mean?” Dotty asked

“I can only talk to Hitler if Dick Cheney is brought here” Saddam said. It was getting
uncomfortable. This was the first time I had witnessed a board member make demands on
Satan before doing anything.

Satan stared at Saddam for almost a minute, sipped the DiD then said “We can’t have
Dick Cheney here. He is needed more on earth than here”

“What do you mean?” Miss Ching asked “I think his name is enough reason to get him
here”

(Email kenyaknowhow@gmail.com to get Hell Times, Episode 2: Saddam To The Rescue

or for an illustrated (comic strip) of Episode 1, or for updates, comments, suggestions or
enquiries)

Copyright © 2010 Samuel Munene

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