Every Dump needs a Fixman

“You mean THE WMD’s that our inspectors and troops have been looking for?”
“The crates have 'Made in USA' stenciled all over them.” That would prove they were from Saddam’s hidden bunkers, since we gave them to him in the first place.

“Ok. Let me think. I’ll get back to you in a minute.” I hung up.
My hands were shaking. How would this look on my record, on top of everything else? The Board would be shitting bricks if the news got out that our town dump was not only storing the most volatile and dangerous substances on earth, but that there existence here would mean that Bush might try to find a link to the terrorists and attack us! I could get fired. I needed an idea.

The best solution for all concerned was to get the materials back to Iraq where they could be discovered. That way they could prove that Saddam was planning foul deeds, and then Bush could swagger himself back into the White House. The recent rumors that Kerry might consider Hillary Clinton as a running mate was heinous yet believable. I have been thinking ABB but now it’s BIH.

I dialed Lardass.
“Yeah, boss, what’s the deal?”
“Ok here it is. We need a couple of - you know - black helicopters over here - stat, We gotta get this shit back to Iraq.
“ Ok, give me an hour.”
“Really?”
“Go home. It’s almost done.”
I must say that Lardass is the kind of friend and subordinate you need in this life. Loyal. Smart, Meticulous, totally lacking in scruples. There are too few of his ilk on the staff, I mused.