The Friday Flash Fiction challenge was to write a story using a song as inspiration.
Immigration: a tall black American steps forward; a large, imposing officer studies his passport.
"Whereyagoin?"
"Washington."
"Whereyabin?"
"Afghanistan."
"Gonna have to ask you to follow me." Then in a private office, "Gonna have to strip-search you, sir."
"What???"
"There's been a death-threat to our President, sir."
"But I am the President."
"Passport says your middle name's Hussein. From Afghaneestan. You could be a disguised bomb."
"I'm not – "
The officer's drawn gun stops him. One humiliating ten-minute strip-search later, the President is released.
Returning to his desk, the officer waves the next man, a blond Austalian, through.
"Proceed, Mr Assange."
Immigration: a tall black American steps forward; a large, imposing officer studies his passport.
"Whereyagoin?"
"Washington."
"Whereyabin?"
"Afghanistan."
"Gonna have to ask you to follow me." Then in a private office, "Gonna have to strip-search you, sir."
"What???"
"There's been a death-threat to our President, sir."
"But I am the President."
"Passport says your middle name's Hussein. From Afghaneestan. You could be a disguised bomb."
"I'm not – "
The officer's drawn gun stops him. One humiliating ten-minute strip-search later, the President is released.
Returning to his desk, the officer waves the next man, a blond Austalian, through.
"Proceed, Mr Assange."
