-Welcome to the American Embassy.
-Permission to God Bless the USA, sir!
-Permission granted, son; here's a cold one: shotgun!
-USA! USA! USA!
-What are you here for, son?
-I need to sign a document affirming that I am who I say I am and my God-given American birth, sir!
-Goddamn foreigners don't know an American on the ground. We are The Sky People. They know us by the crack of our thunder and what drops from the skies, be it food, bombs, guns, or Angelina Frickin' Jolie. That's why Jesus Christ gave us HIS USAF. You're a goddamn red blooded American son-of-a-gun if I ever saw one.
-Sir, yes, sir! Permission to put my feet up and talk in a loud voice, sir!
-Permission granted. At ease. Now listen here, son, I can tell just by looking at the way you didn't walk here that you're as American as Die Hard 4 on Blue-Ray DVD bought at Wal-Mart. I don't need to look up your skirts and see the whole DAR. This here's a formality, but just look into my eyes and tell me the myth, sing me the song of What It Means To Be An American.
-Yes, sir! It was late at night on a country road. We drank whisky and beer and looked at corn and listened to the radio. I danced on the open plains of the hood of a moving American car and made love in the backseat that was dark and vast like the Grand Canyon at night. My love was like a fire on a slave ship that sets the prisoners free and then burns and drowns them in the cold dark night. I woke up covered with scratches I couldn't remember and a tattoo inked in my veins that I couldn't read that said I would drive on this road with the sun in my eyes until the day I died, alone.
-Goddammit, son, if crying wasn't for pussies, I'd kiss you right now. Instead, here are two free coupons to Applebee's. They are proof of who you are and your American birthright. You can show them anywhere and be proud you're an American. But always remember: they are not valid with any other special or discount and have no cash value.
-Thank you, sir.
-You got anywheres to go right now? You can stay and sit a spell if you want to. It's a free country. Pull a chair, take in some Simpsons or Sean Hannity.
-No, sir, thank you, sir. An American's got to keep moving. It's where the frontier and the drive-thru is.
-Carry on, son, carry on.
Written in the US Embassy June 8th, in the Year of Our Lord 2008.
Heh, did you lose your passport?
ReplyDeleteI don't know what microfilm you're referring to. I went there to buy stamps.
DeleteLean in a little closer, my dear. I want to smell that exquisite, yet completely ordinary, flower in your lapel.
ReplyDelete