Where’s Bin Laden? Excerpt
© 2007 by Shane Ryan Staley
All Rights Reserved
“Commercial break,” someone yelled off-camera.
Geraldo Rivera dabbed sweat off his forehead. “Hurry up, get those rocks out of there. This is my big break. I’ll be known as the man who found Bin Laden! Then the U.S. Army can kiss my ass! And it’s all live…we’re making history, people. Come on, faster!”
Geraldo walked over to the water cooler. An American soldier trailed him.
“Do you have to follow me everywhere?” Geraldo asked.
“Yes, sir,” the soldier stated, “Orders from the general, sir!”
“Can I at least piss in private?”
The solider visibly let his guard down. “Okay, sir, but hurry!”
Geraldo disappeared behind a huge rock.
Meanwhile, excavation continued on the cave entrance.
Geraldo returned, took a drink of water, and grabbed the microphone.
Off camera, someone said, “Three…two…one…we’re live!”
“As you can see behind me,” Geraldo began, “we are merely feet away from breaking into this cave and discovering the mastermind behind the September 11th attacks on our World Trade Center Towers. You are witnessing a historic moment live, as credible sources have led us to this very spot where Bin Laden remains in hiding.”
Rocks rolled across the desert. The mouth of the cave crumbled into dust.
Geraldo rushed into the cave, the cameraman followed, as well as the American soldier.
The dust cleared to a giant treasure chest of gold coins and jewelry. Along the far wall of the cave were clusters of racks adorned with fedora hats and black suits.
Geraldo searched the entrance, looking for a body, but instead found strange, western items like prescription bottles filled with penicillin and wallets with monograms lettered with “AC” on them. He thumbed through a stack of papers and came to a yellowish hand-written letter on timeworn stationery, the edges peeling away due to being exposed for such a long time. On the header of the stationery was the title, “Mister Al Capone, Esquire.”
A cameraman read the copy and laughed. ”Well, I’ll be damned,“ he said, ”We’ve found Al Capone’s vault!“
“How the fuck did it get way over here in Afghanistan?”
Geraldo’s eyes glazed over, his shoulders slumped. He backed away and ran into the cameraman who was still filming.
”Ah, shit!“ Geraldo said, ”Shut the camera off! Shut the fucking camera off now!“
Another soldier poked his head into the cave. ”Mr. Rivera, please step outside!“
”What now?“
Geraldo stomped out of the cave and met a small squadron of soldiers. The soldier in the cave trailed him outside and was debriefed by the squadron in private.
Then the group surrounded Geraldo.
”We found a map drawn in the sand over there by that big rock. It looked like it was drawn in urine. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?“
Geraldo met an icy stare from the soldier accompanying him.
”I just pissed over there, it’s not a fucking map!“ Geraldo shouted. ”God, can my luck get any worse?“
”Sir, the urine in the sand just happened to give away the coordinates to the secret military base you were escorted from!“
”Yeah, big deal,“ Geraldo replied, ”What are you going to do, shoot me?“
”Actually, sir, those were our orders,“ the soldier stated.
All six soldiers in the squadron raised their guns.
”Ah shit!“ Geraldo said again.
The first shot blew the top of his head off. Geraldo’s shoulders bounced up and down as bullets riddled his chest and abdomen.
He fell face-first into the sand.
”You stay here and make sure his blood is covered up,“ the leader of the squadron ordered the lone soldier, ”We don’t want that bastard leaking out any more crucial information!”
