Sunday, 21 May 2006
LOST VERSES OF THE KORAN: SURAH 129: THE VANQUISHED
Surah 129: The Vanquished
The following afternoon, god Muhammad woke from his drunken stupor, comely manslave Zaid snoring away beside him. Hungry, he reached for a bowl of boiled dung beetles. Brushing iridescent flies from his meal, he began stuffing cold, vulture gravy covered dung beetles in his mouth like a famished glutton, chasing the morsels with gulps of strong wine.
Having convulsed from a seizure near dawn, he had then dreamt a vivid dream of knowing Abu’s wife Fahimah again. In the mood for a woman’s touch, the Prophet sat on the black stone and consumed a copious quantity of hashish; delighting in the hallucinations Pig Allah gave him when he ate the Holy drug.
The hashish taking effect quickly, a wildly hallucinating Muhammad wandered from the Kaaba, shielding his eyes from the brilliant afternoon sun, intent on securing the favours of Fahimah. Abu Bakr was meeting with the freebooters outside the walls of Mecca when the Holy Prophet arrived at his house, forcing the door open with his foot.
"What do you want here, you debauched demon in man’s guise?" asked a disgusted Fahimah, looking upon the filthy and diseased Muhammad, his white silk robe and turban having turned brown from over a year’s worth of dirt, dust and sweat.
"I want your favours, infidel bitch," slurred the intoxicated Prophet, leering at her, Ayesha and Sheba watching him in fear.
Terror filled Fahimah’s eyes as the evil Muhammad started toward her: grabbing a pot of boiling vipers; she threw them at him, the pot and scalding broth hitting the Prophet in his face, knocking the filthy silk turban from his head.
"That’s what I like, a feisty woman," declared a smiling Muhammad, wiping broth and a large patch of blistered skin from his forehead, feeling no pain from the scalding broth. Grabbing Fahimah while his wives screamed, he beat and then knew her on the floor of Abu’s house.
"But I am with child!" cried Fahimah, Muhammad grunting as he reached orgasm, "Be silent, it is the will of Allah for me to know you on this day!" Much too engrossed with abusing the stiff-necked infidel woman, Muhammad hadn’t noticed that his child bride Ayesha had run from the house, intent on finding her father.
Infidel Fahimah sufficiently violated, the evil Muhammad leered at a cringing Sheba for a moment, then staggered from the house, heading back to the Kaaba.
Happening upon Abu at Zubair’s tent, Ayesha, out of breath, said, "Come quickly my father, the Holy Prophet is at your house, knowing my stepmother."
"The depraved bastard, I’ll kill him!" exclaimed Abu, rising and running from Zubair’s tent, Ayesha falling to the ground as he passed.
Freebooter Zubair put down a wine bottle and rose from his seat. He helped the child to her feet, and called for his lieutenant Jabbar.
"What’s going on?" asked Jabbar, walking up.
"Grab your scimitar and tell the others that we’re heading to Abu’s," ordered a frowning Zubair, anticipating the worst.
Abu arrived at his house, entering as Sheba was kneeling over the fallen Fahimah, she growing weak and bleeding profusely, the lower part of her clothing covered in blood.
"Muhammad raped her!" exclaimed Sheba, her face wet with tears.
Ignoring Sheba, Abu lifted his wife and placed her on their bed. "I am here Fahimah, forgive me for not defending you from that evil monster."
"My forgiveness will be yours my husband, but only if you kill that bastard before the sun sets," said Fahimah, the upright infidel woman lingering for a moment, then dying in Abu’s arms.
Zubair and Jabbar arrived just as Fahimah died. "What do you want to do Abu?" asked the freebooter.
Abu sighed, letting out a deep breath. Remaining silent for a few moments, Zubair again asked what he intended to do.
"I’m heading to the Kaaba to deal with Muhammad. Do as you like with his worshippers afterward, but leave Muhammad to me," an angered Abu answered, turning to Sheba. "Quickly harlot, find those who can tend to my wife’s body." Leaving the house, he kicked Muhammad’s filthy, flea infested turban from the doorway into the street, it landing next to the rotted skeleton of a murdered infidel.
Arriving at the Kaaba, Abu picked up the bleached thighbone of a butchered camel. Slapping it against his palm, he tested the heavy bone for strength. "Muhammad!" he yelled, looking about for him.
"What do you want, infidel oaf?" asked Muhammad, appearing in the doorway, barely able to focus due to the hashish, seeing Abu in double vision.
Abu was taken back at the horrific visage of the debauched Prophet, his wrinkled face burned, blistered and bleeding from the scalding viper broth; his filthy silk robe stained, his matted hair wet.
"What happened to your face?"
"My face?" asked Muhammad, steadying himself, leaning against the doorway, devoted worshippers appearing at his side.
"Your face, what happened?"
"I don’t know," slurred Muhammad, staggering toward Abu in the bright sunlight and again asking, "I’m tired from my revelry, what do you want from me oaf?"
"You raped and murdered my pregnant wife you evil, licentious bastard!" yelled Abu, Zubair, Jabbar and a cadre of armed freebooters arriving behind him.
"Debauched monster in man’s guise, you don’t even realise what you’ve done!" screamed a livid Abu, raising the thighbone.
"Be that as it may, whatever I did was the will of Allah," retorted a smiling Muhammad blithely, turning from him, "Put down that silly bone oaf, and go home."
"The will of Allah my ass, go to hell where you belong!" yelled Abu, smiting the Prophet on the head with the thighbone using all his might, the Prophet falling to the ground dead from a fractured skull.
"That’s the last time he’ll ever call me oaf," declared Abu, repenting that he had not killed him sooner.
A wicked smile still on Muhammad’s face, Abu, Zubair and the others watched in horror as a dark and evil spirit left the debauched body, floated into the defiled Kaaba and disappeared within the black stone of Allah.
"My God," said a stunned Abu, watching as the Prophet’s worshippers started blinking and shaking their heads, as if waking from a trance.
The one called Abbud, marked on the hand by the Prophet, walked up to Abu Bakr. He looked down at Muhammad’s body, blood pouring from his head. "You killed him, you killed the god Muhammad," he said.
"What choice did I have; he murdered my wife and unborn child," retorted Abu angrily, the thighbone still clutched in his hand.
Abbud paused and looked to his fellow worshippers, then turned to Abu. Kneeling before him, he yelled, "Hail Abu Bakr, he has killed the wicked Muhammad!" The other worshippers followed suit, shouting and marching around the Kaaba, "Hail Abu Bakr, he has killed the wicked Muhammad!"
The body of the evil and debauched Muhammad at his feet, blood still running from his skull, Abu watched as the worshippers celebrated the welcome death of the Holy Prophet.
"The Prophet is now with Pig Allah!" shouted one, falling to the ground, overcome by his complete devotion to Islam. Other followers continued to march around the Kaaba, shouting, "Hail Abu Bakr, he has killed the wicked Muhammad!"
The freebooter Zubair looked to Abu Bakr, intent on securing his authority over the Muslims. A hand on his scimitar, he asked bluntly, "What are your orders Abu, shall we kill them all and be done with it?"
"No, let them live, for Muhammad, peace be upon him, had them under the spell of a wicked and capricious demon. Take up his vile body, remove it, and throw it outside the gates." Turning to the followers, Abu ordered, "Lock up the Kaaba, so the Prophet’s ghost cannot escape."
Muhammad’s defiled body, dragged by the feet from the Kaaba by a pair of freebooters, was thrown on a rat infested garbage dump outside the gates of Mecca. Later, Abu gave a sermon, standing on a bluff overlooking maggot-ridden refuse, the body of the Prophet therein, covered by iridescent flies.
‘Though our Prophet was a twisted pervert and a mincing, boy-hungry paedophile, Muhammad, peace be upon him, showed us the way of Allah; not Allah the pig, but great Allah, lord of the universe!"
"He’s almost as bad as Muhammad was," snickered Jabbar, standing with Zubair and the other freebooters.
"Yeah, but he’s not half the drunk or pervert Muhammad was," replied Zubair, laughing at Abu’s ridiculous sermon.