Seventy-Two Virgins

Once upon a time there was a very tall man called Usama who dreamed to die and go to Heaven. Not just any old Heaven, but into a heaven where 72 virgins awaited him and his every wish.

He then died as a suicide bomber. His last thought was about the feminine softness and submission. As his body parts were blown to bits and pieces, his soul howered over the scene waiting for the virgins to come and take him somewhere lovely and tend to his loneliness.

As the dust settled over the bombing area, and the people were running around collecting the other dead people, he waited patiently for his turn. Nobody came for his parts. Nobody cried for his life gone. It started to dawn on him that this 72 virgin story may not be true. And then what? He killed himself for what? To defeat western culture? Culture is never defeated with suicide. Culture is about people liking your work, you need culture to defeat culture.

Usama started floating upwards to heaven, like smoke. He was filled with hope. He went all the way to the end of the stratosphere, then was bounced back down like a ping pong ball.
Ooops! He thought to himself, Allah is not willing. Bummer!
He tried to stroke his beard which had soothed him often, but oops, no beard. He felt fear but where did the fear live if he had no body? His head? Blown away. Oh yes, the fear lived in his soul. Not a good thing. Soul in fear is not the blissful state he was hoping for.

Maybe I have to imagine those virgins, call to them, thought Usama. But what would I say? I have not really known too many women. 72 of them are too many. Ohh, they must just send me starter virgins, who slowly lead me into the pleasures.

Usama waited a few weeks and nothing happened. He only knew weeks went by because he saw the sun rise and dip, rise and dip. When you are dead time doesn’t mean so much. Then Usama began to hallucinate.

He saw several children coming by in a group, carrying water, flowers, balls, they walked right by him as if he wasn’t there. “Hey,” he called to them, “what happened to my virgins?” One of the children turned back and saw him.
“Run!” she cried to the others, “Run! Here is one of those guys, and we are not veiled!”
“Don’t run away, please talk to me. I am dead too.”
Another of the older girls turned back to face him.
“You killed us because we didn’t have a veil on, we are the children who burned in the fire!”
The children ran away like the gusts of winds in the desert.
Usama didn’t get it. He wasn’t there, he didn’t burn any of the children. But he knew his religious police had done similar acts, all the time. And these girls were dead like him.

Then something wonderful happened. The sky opened up and there were fountains and steaming plates of food, and soft pillows. Usama gained his confidence back.
“Yes! Here I am! Let’s go to heaven!”

He approached the scene, wandered into those halls, reached out to take some water because he was very thirsty. Slap! A hand came down on his. He felt the sting of it, not like before, flesh hitting flesh, but as ill will hits a soul.

“What? How dare you to touch me without my permission! Give me some water!”
To his mighty surprise seven older Virgins rose from the nothingness with automatic rifles in hand.
“Get out!” they cried
“What do you mean? I am looking for the 72 virgins.”
“72 virgins you say? Well here you have seven of us.”
Usama saw that these were women covered modestly from top to toe in Christian nun garb. They were, indeed, virgins. Brides of Christ.
“No No! I was promised 72 virgins , young ones,” he protested.
“Nonsense! Nobody said anything about young, or Muslim . You were promised virgins, and here we are. Let’s go!”
The seven armed Virgins took him to his seat and put a pillow underneath his feet.
“There!” he said, satisfied. “That’s more like it. Could I have a drink of water now please?”
“Pretty please!” one of the nuns corrected him.
Usama now knew he was not in the proper heaven. This could not be true, after a lifetime of male domination over women.
“Pretty please,” he finally said.
The nun gave him a cup of water to drink. He lifted it to where his lips used to be, only to spill it all over the place, even the pillow got wet. Not a drop could he taste.
“Look what you have done!” the middle aged nun scolded him. The others looked at him with disapproval.
“Didn’t your mama teach you how to drink water?”
Usama was embarrassed. Of course he couldn’t…because he didn’t have a mouth.
“I am sorry,” he finally said.
“Sorry is not enough!” She advanced on him and used the butt of her automatic to hit Usama on the head.
“Ouch!” he cried, “That hurt!”
“Not as much when you had beaten my sisters for fashion crimes, like showing a little hair.”
She hit him on the head again much harder.
Finally Usama had enough and had to ask.
“Excuse me, but is this the proper Muslim heaven? Where is Allah?”
The nuns fell down laughing, they shot rounds in the air as signs of their good mood, stomped their feet, and jumped up and down like, little kids for joy.
Finally one of them answered.

“Heaven is the same for everybody idiot. If Allah is here you would have seen him by now.”
“But I have only seen you… only seven virgins, what about the rest?”
“What would you like to do with the rest?” The oldest nun approached him, her face was lined with thousands of wrinkles. As she faced him down she tore off her nun headdress, and shown her bald head underneath her habit.
“I hope my hair doesn’t offend you.” She mimed submission.
“What hair?”
“The hair women are required to hide, idiot. Up here we all are bald. Want a little more water?” She turned friendly.
“No thanks,” Usama replied, “I had quite enough.”
He felt defeated for a moment, but then he saw more figures emerging, these were younger women, totally uncovered, sporting jeans and T shirts, make up. Usama cheered up.
“I am right here!” he cried trying to attract them. “Virgins come hither!” One young nubile young woman came close. She examined him slowly.
“So you are Usama Bin Laden? Dead at last!”
“Hello.. I was wondering.. do you know where the proper Muslim heaven is? 72 willing virgins..”
“Willing virgins you said? Then they wouldn’t be virgins anymore now would they?”
“I was promised 72 virgins by Allah.”
“What for? What have you done to deserve that?”
“I have lived according to the Qu’ran.”
“No you didn’t. You spent your life making wars amongst people, and despised women. Forbid them to work, made them house slaves. None of that is in your Qu’ran. We don’t give rewards for that.”
Usama took this hard.
“What? No rewards?”
“Nope. But to show you why this is fair, here is my sister Alihiha.
She is a virgin. Show her what you got.”
Alihiha is twenty something, curious, comes quite near Usama.
“What can I do for you?”
“Oh at last a real woman. First I desire a fine hot bath. The I desire you servicing me sexually.”
Alihiha looks at him in disbelief.
“Sexually?”
“Yes, darling girl.”
“Show me what you got,” said Alihiha, like she meant it.
Usama feels his sex, oh good it’s all there, opens up his white wrap to expose himself to the girl.
Alihiha stands there unimpressed. Waiting.
Usama realizes that his body is not exciting to the girl.
“It’s ok, you get used to it. A virgin always shrinks from male nakedness. Come here and stroke me slowly.”
Alihiha still waits for more.
“Excuse me, but I see nothing there. You’ve got no male nakedness. I was hoping to see some.”
She walks away disappointed.
Usama now realizes that being dead is not a good way to get sex in the netherworld.
“Damn! At least give me a bath, steaming plates of rice and lamb.
I have forgone so much while I was alive, I have denied myself so much, for a great pay off.”
The nuns sourand him and hit him with the rifles.
“Those dreams for your heaven required a body, idiot!
Now you got no body and no past and no future.”
“I demand the 72 virgins and my hot bath now! Allah curse you if you don’t take me there to him immediately.”
The virgins stop hitting him and grab him, dragging him off.
Usama thinks he won at least. He will find the 72 virgins and his pleasures.
“Where are you taking me?”
Allah is willing, and he’ll see you . But first you have to complete your education.
“Education? What for?”
“He is putting you into the purifying fires of feminism for a century or two.”
“Feminism?? That’s the devils work! That’s corruption of morals..that’s not in the Qu’ran.”
“Oh but there you will find the 72 virgins, even more…”
“I will?”
“That’s where we keep the virgins…don’t we girls?”
“And they are nuns like you??”
“Oh no they are not, they are very sexual, yet virgins every one.”
“Thank you! Take me there! I am ready!”
“That’s a very special heaven. We hope you’ll be happier there then with us. Those are special virgins, young ones, not angry at you, you didn’t kill them while alive.”
“What are they called, pray tell?”
“They are lesbian feminists. They have never known a man, and they would not mind you missing all your body parts at all. You see…”
Usama gets it, he tried to wring himself from the nuns but their grip is hard.
“Oh no! I have changed my mind! Never mind the virgins! What else have you got up here? Anything for good mullahs like me?”
“Only other mullahs, if you like we can take you there. We have quite a collection.”
The nuns drag Usama to another cloud, where the sorry group of virgin less Muslim woman haters banded together. Nothing left to blow up or to enjoy. Nothing.