I found Saddam, you pussies


By Mike Mulletino



“You’ve got to be fuckin kidding me”

Thats what I said when I watched the fucken shit on TV dude. “Shock and Awe?”

You’re kidding me, pussies. The fuckin’ army dudes went over there, and they kicked some ass, but the real work was done by yours truly. I swear, I love the U.S.A, dude, but you pussies couldn’t last a minute without my help. For months you fuckers were looking for saddam, and didn’t find shit. I found him, and fuckin’ killed him. Here is how it went down.

I was sitting in my pad, minding my own fucking business. One of Cheryl’s dumb ass guy friends comes over and says he’s going out drinking with her tonight. I was like “cool man, but she aint here”. She’s a busy bitch, out there and working and shit. I asked him what was the special occasion, and he said some shit like it was his birthday, and she “owed him a free one” or some shit. I guess he was talkin about a beer or something. About that time, a Forest Grove pig rolls up. He stops the car. The pig starts strolling up to the porch saying he needs to talk to me. Now as much ass as I have been kicking lately, its probably some bullshit, so I push homeboy aside and grab the recliner off the porch. I smashed it over the cops head, and took off running. I jumped in his car, and burned tires out of there. “You guys need an 81 camaro” I thought to myself. This 351 is fucking pussy shit.

Of course, those assholes started comin after me. I did some 180s, and slid around some turns, and eventually I jumped the car over a broken bridge, and they had to stop. Pussies. So I takes the car down to Shucks, and I bought some primer from that smartass fuck that works down there. I took the lights off, and primered the shit, so you couldnt tell it was a cop car, and drove the fuck out of there. But not before I sprayed that fuck in the eyes at the cash register who was giving me shit about buying heet. Take that, you pussy fuck. I had to head out of town, and take a bit of a vacation.

So I heads down to Cali, to see some old buds. As you know, I am not allowed to be in Cali, so I couldn’t stay long. I had to figure out somewhere to go. I saw this Iraq shit on TV, and thought “they need me bro”. So I pawned off the cop car for some plane tickets to Iraq. Fuck it, I ain’t got nothing better to do. And my country needs me. I landed in bag-dad about 1am and I rented a camel from this hodgee fuck who tried to rip me off. I gauged out his fucking eyes and poured curry in them. He didn’t like that shit. I stuck his head in the sand, and buried his punk ass. I had shit to do, and this fuck pissed me off. That wasn’t the start of my hodgee trouble.

I met up with some army dudes, and told them my plan. They started laughin and shit. I told those preppy fucks to watch their back. They didnt think I could get saddam. I told them to make room in thier tent for a fuckin body. People just dont have faith in my skills anymore. The dudes gave me an old flak jacket and a beat up M-16 that jams up. “Thanks guys” I said, as I rode my camel away. I love the army, dude. I traveled across the desert, and I asked some hodgees where saddam was, and they pretended like they didn’t know.

One of them got mouthy, and I caved in his head with the butt of the M-16. “One of your punk asses is dead now, anyone want to talk?” They gave me directions to the 7-11 he was working at. I guess after the army booted his ass out of power, he went to work with his cousin. You just have to know how to get info out of people, man. We don’t need the fucking the CIA, we just need me.

I walked into the 7-11, and Saddam was sitting there, and this guy was training him to run the register.

“Whats up you peice of shit hodgee fuck?” I yelled. He took off running. I ran after him, and the guy training him trips me. “You done fucked up now, bro!” I yelled, right before kicking him in the fucking jaw. I picked up the cash register, and started smashing his head with it. He rolled out from under me, and hit me in the back with a donut. “YOU WANNA GO BITCH???” I kicked him square in the chest, and he flew back in to the glass door of the beer case, shattering it. A big shard of glass came down, and landed right in his chest. He was a dead fuck. They never learn, you know? I took off out the back door, to find Saddam. I knew he was out here somewhere.

I was right. I heard these crying sounds behind the dumpster. I looked under it, and saw his feet, he was sitting down. I ran up, and drop kicked the dumpster with all my might. It flew into the back wall, crushing Saddam. “That was for the kerds, motherfucker!!” I yelled. I moved the dumpster, and pulled his ass out. I started punchin his fuckin head like it was going out of style. I dotted both of his punk eyes, and broke his jaw. He was muttering some shit, saying he was sorry. Sorry don’t cut it man. “WHERE’S YOUR WEAPONS DUDE??” he was still crying. I grabbed his arm, and twisted it around, breaking it. “YOU LIKE THAT?? WHERE THE FUCK ARE THEY??” He handed me a map. I folded it up, and put in in my pocket, behind the comb. It was time to end this motherfucker for good.

I drug him out to the curb, and told him to bite it. He wouldnt, so I stomped him real hard in the back, and busted his spine. He cooperated after that. He was crying and shit, saying he’s sorry about the kerds, and 9/11, and all that shit. I didn’t care. I was ruthless. I had him bite down on the curb. I went over to the dumpster, and rolled it in front of him. I told him to say uncle, like I was gonna stop. “UNCLE!!!” He yelled, then bit the curb again. About that time, I tipped over the dumpster right on his fuckin dome. BAM!! It crashed down on him, spraying his brains across the parking lot. I got some on my pumas, that are still stuck in the laces.

I dragged his limp, headless body back to the army base. I gave em the map, and Saddam, and they were pretty happy about it. They said they had a lot of paperwork to do, then they’d start telling people about it. I guess that shit will be on CNN, I dont know. All I know is, I have to catch a C130 out of here before the Iraqi cops get here. They aren’t any different from any other cops. Now I gots to get back to Forest Grove, so those cops can fuck with me about the stolen car and shit. They’ll love it.

They always do.

Till next time, Mike.

Mike Mulletino is a former Columnist for Major-losers.com. He now lives in Forest Grove, Oregon, in the Rose Grove Trailer Park. He can be reached by e-mail. He cannot be reached by phone, that shit’s been disconnected.