Wednesday, 22 March 2006
Sacred revelations from a pig called Allah: Surah 122
Lost verses of the Koran
Surah 122: Muhammad the Merciless
Abu Bakr, though he had listened to the wise words of his good wife Fahimah, found the prospects of strong wine, glittering plunder and wanton sexual pleasure outweighed her foreboding admonitions; he advising her to remain silent with regard to the Holy Prophet. For this request, he agreed that he would do his best to keep the depraved Muhammad from coming unto her.
The widow bowed her head respectfully, obeying her brutal husband.
Staying for a time to renew their strength at the oasis, Muhammad announced over a fine evening meal that they would return to Medina and take it in the name of Allah.
"That will be easy, considering we slaughtered everyone there who resisted us," slurred a drunken Abu, he, the Prophet and their closest followers sitting at a long table. Veiled, tempting sirens with bare breasts served the bounty Allah had provided: the flesh of vultures, vipers, and lizards gracing the table.
"Good point oaf," the deranged Muhammad agreed, seven rings of gold and silver on his fingers, his mouth stuffed with roast vulture. He swallowed, belched loudly and added, "Allah revealed to me in a dream that Medina will be our base, and from there we shall send brave warriors out to capture and recruit new followers."
"More men will be needed after the debacle at Mecca," replied Abu, looking to their limited numbers, choking down the bitter flesh of a fat, boiled viper with another gulp of wine.
The evil Prophet hid a smile at the sight of Abu’s nausea; watching from the head of the table in delight as his devoted followers dined on the flesh of vermin. "No matter about the others, they are dead and gone, it was the will of Allah," declared an uncaring Muhammad, spitting a shard of fractured vulture bone to the table. Wiping greasy hands on his filthy silk robe, he grabbed a wine bottle and took a deep drink from it. "My belly still rumbles, bring tasty dung beetles to sate my gnawing hunger," he ordered to a siren nearest him.
The lone survivor of the battle of Mecca, a swarthy Bedouin named Hamal, sat at the table, eating from an earthenware bowl of lizard soup, seasoned with ground peppercorns, onions and the juices of crushed scorpions. Having considered his low standing amongst his fellow Muslims for calling the Prophet a lying coward to his face, he wished to make amends by making himself useful to Muhammad. In return, he hoped the murderous Prophet would allow him to live, so he, like his debauched leader, would have the chance to kill, rape and plunder in the name of Pig Allah, the moon god.
Their meal finished, a lustful, drunken Muhammad initiated another sex orgy with the sirens, the warriors of Islam delighting in the licentious revelry: the debauched Prophet entering the tent of the Nubian harlot Sheba, relieving his carnal urges while held in her willing arms.
"Oh great Prophet, if it is the will of Allah, will you take me as one of your beloved wives to Medina?" asked Sheba, looking up to him with seductive, dark eyes as he continued to know her.
"Sure, as my young bride Ayesha often grows sore from my constant attentions," grunted Muhammad, reaching orgasm for a third time, finding her the most satisfying harlot he had ever encountered.
"She is only six, most wait until they bleed first," replied Sheba, the Prophet looking at her and frowning, both knowing that he was little more than a brutal, licentious paedophile who delighted in the rape of little girls and boys. Rising from the bed and closing his robe, he left her tent, adjusting his filthy silk turban.
Later, when others at the oasis were asleep or passed out from drunkenness, Muhammad, oaf Abu, and Hamal the Bedouin sat by a small fire, discussing plans for the recruitment of new followers. As the fire died down the Holy Prophet rose and walked into the shadows, releasing foul, pungent gas from his posterior while Abu and the Bedouin continued speaking.
"When will we be leaving for Medina?" asked Hamal, looking forward to visiting a comely harlot he had met there.
"Very soon, but you will not leave with us," answered Abu, just as Muhammad leapt upon the hapless Bedouin with an oiled garrote. Pulling it tight around his throat with all his strength, he gritted his teeth and strangled the infidel to death, crushing his windpipe.
"That is what one gets for insulting Allah’s messenger," declared the wicked Muhammad with a smile, allowing the corpse to drop to the ground. He pulled the garrote from Hamal’s throat and pocketed it in his filthy silk robe. Looking to Abu, he said, "Get over here and help me with the body oaf."
Abu rose, the Prophet and his henchman carrying the remains of Hamal into the desert.
On the next day, Abu’s young nephew Abdullah appeared from his mother’s hovel at the border of the oasis. The adolescent appeared more of a man than a boy, his face having a short beard. Troubled, he asked his uncle as to why he had left his aunt Umm to die of grief, and why he had permitted the Holy Prophet to know him and his little cousin Ayesha. Not aware of Abu’s incestuous relationship with his daughter, he awaited the answer.
"My daughter Ayesha is his child bride, given unto him by Gabriel on high; alas, Muhammad is also a paederast, it was the will of Allah for him to know you," a shrugging Abu replied, revolted at the thought of paederasty, not looking his nephew in the eyes.
"The will of Allah? Then Allah is an evil, insidious demon possessed of lust and caprice!" exclaimed Abdullah. "Your Prophet is a depraved sodomite sent from the depths of hell: grasping my crotch, he raped me after having a seizure, holding me down and declaring it was the will of Pig Allah!"
"I don’t know what to say, my nephew," replied Abu, looking to the ground, knowing that Muhammad had truly hurt a beloved member of his family by raping him.
"I do," said an angry Abdullah, tears welling in his eyes as he glared at his uncle, "I say be gone forever from our oasis, you, your demonic Prophet, your vile brethren, and never call me your nephew again!" Wiping away tears, he turned and trudged off, a saddened Abu watching as the young man disappeared into a date grove.
A fortnight passed; the Muslims returning to the nearly deserted city of Medina. The faithful inhabitants celebrated at the sight of Prophet Muhammad, joyously greeting his arrival with a spectacle of drunken revelry and lasciviousness. To the Prophet’s pleasure, he found the brothel was still open, the madam thankful to Allah that the brave warriors of Islam had returned unto their midst.
After indulging in the favours of comely, dark-eyed harlots for several days, Muhammad, his wives Ayesha and Sheba, together with his entourage of slavewomen and little Jewish boys, moved into the merchant Sabri’s house. Oaf Abu and wife Fahimah accompanied them, as the residence had more than enough room.
The body of Sabri, murdered by the Holy Prophet months earlier, lay rotting on the floor, a tearful Fahimah looking to the desiccated remains of her loving husband.
"Lamentations over infidels is forbidden, it is the will of Allah that such die for resisting him," declared Muhammad, picking fat fleas from his beard and crushing them between his fingernails. Ordering other followers to remove the remains, they dragged the body from the house and dumped it in the street for all to see. Looking down, the Prophet smirked and kicked Sabri’s mummified severed finger through the open door.
"You soulless brigand, I am an infidel, why don’t you just kill me and put me out of my misery?" asked a defiant Fahimah, tears of grief wetting her cheeks.
The Holy Prophet raised an arm to smite her, Abu stepping between them. "You will not strike my good wife Fahimah, nor will you touch her in any other fashion from this point forward; there is much wisdom in her utterances regarding the likes of you," warned Abu, staring at the Prophet with anger in his eyes.
Muhammad lowered his arm. Hiding his fear, he frowned at his muscular henchman. "Of course oaf," he muttered, quickly turning and leaving the house. "Bastard," he spat in defeat, heading to the brothel for the favours of harlots, strong wine, and hashish.
"Thank you husband, for what you have said and done for me," said Fahimah.
"Don’t thank me, thank your gods," replied a confused Abu, sweat on his brow, looking to the doorway that the madman Muhammad had passed through.
Charged by the words of the Holy Prophet, vanguards of devoted followers moved across the land surrounding Medina, converting scores to Islam in the name of Allah the Pig. Along the way, the warriors helped themselves to women, children and glittering plunder: slaughtering, torturing, raping and robbing as caravans, villages, towns and cities fell before them. Returning to Medina with fresh converts, the warriors rested, joining with their fellow Muslims in idleness, debauchery, licentious revelry and drunkenness.
Fearful of being exposed as the coward he was, Muhammad was determined to prove he was an able leader, chosen by Allah the moon god. Together with trusted group of followers, he, Abu and a band of vicious cutthroats entered a peaceful village near Medina in the middle of the night. A guard, subdued and beaten by a pair of the Prophet’s followers, asked Muhammad, "We have done you no harm stranger, what do you want here?"
"We want everything," answered a smiling Muhammad. Pulling out his garrote, he strangled the defeated infidel to death, fulfilling the will of Allah.
Allah the Pig smiled upon the devoted followers; over time the Muslim army was strengthened to near invincibility, their numbers in Medina now amounting to over 300 score.