Showing posts with label Qaddafi. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Qaddafi. Show all posts

Col. Gaddafi Killed While Getting the Morning Newspaper?

Tripoli, Libya --

Dressed in a bathrobe and slippers, Col. Muammar al-Qaddafi (Gaddafi) was killed in his driveway in his hometown of Sirte today.

His confirmed death brings to an end one of the most brutal murderous regimes known in modern history, lasting over 40 years.

However, uncertainty still clouds the exact circumstances surrounding his demise.

“He opened the front door and commanded his dog to go fetch the morning newspaper,” said a Libyan rebel. “But we paid the newspaper boy to throw the paper into the bushes. So his dog refused to come out and get it.”

That forced Col. Gaddafi, still dressed in a bathrobe and slippers, to venture outside the protected confines of his compound located in a posh upscale suburban neighborhood. And get the morning newspaper himself, exposing him to a rebel ambush.

“He was cursing and cussing at the newspaper boy,” said another rebel. “He even waved his fist in the air at him, as he pedaled away. Threatening that there would be no tip come Christmas. Or that he would have him beheaded. I forget which.”

Unbeknownst to Col. Gaddafi, the rebels had a joke newspaper printed up as well.

“We printed up the headline: ‘Col. Gaddafi Killed While Getting the Morning Newspaper,” confirmed the rebel commander in charge of the mission.

Reportedly, Gaddafi chuckled and smiled to himself as he read it.

Then looking around, he called out to a next door neighbor who was watering his lawn.

“Hey, Omar!” yelled out, Gaddafi. Laughing and pointing at the headline. “Did you do this?”

Omar shook his head no, dropped his water hose on the spot and ran inside his house.

Col. Gaddafi scratched his head and walked across the street to ask another neighbor the same question.

“Hey, Ahmad,” called out a now suspicious Gaddafi. However, before he could finish asking his question, the neighbor ran inside too, slamming his front door shut.

As Col. Gaddafi walked back across the street back to his house, he paused in the middle of the street noticing for the first time that all his neighbors were nowhere in sight.

“We even rigged a fishing line to a child’s swing,” said a rebel. “Making it move back and forth to give the illusion that a kid was just on it, but must have jumped off.”

“I don’t know about Col. Gaddafi,” remarked the rebel commander. “But we all got the chills and had goose bumps running up and down our arms.”

“Hey!” yelled out Col. Gaddafi standing alone in the middle of the residential street. “What in the hell is going on here!?”

Gaddafi looked down at the joke newspaper he had unknowingly dropped moments before.

“The headline was staring up at him from his feet, man!” said a rebel, who could hardly contain his excitement. “It was way wroth forty years of toil, torture and totalitarianism just to see that expression on his face.”

Picking up the joke newspaper again, Gaddafi read the joke headline again.

“Only this time, it did not seem like a joke to him anymore,” said the rebel commander. “He wasn’t chuckling or smiling to himself anymore, either.”

Soon the Libyan rebels and the NATO airforce were in hot pursuit of Col. Gaddafi’s convoy.

Copyright © 2008-2011 by Robert W. Armijo. All rights reserved.

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