Incident Number 33217 By Grant

Colonel Hafetz strode purposefully down the hall of the Knesset. He gripped the attaché case firmly and braced himself for his meeting. A quick reveal of his ID causes one of two guards stationed to open the door and announce: 'Mr. Prime Minister, Colonel Hafetz.' Colonel Hafetz enters and a silent Prime Minister gestures him to sit. The Colonel places the silver case on the desk, unlocks it and turns it to face the Prime Minister. 'What happened?' 'Mr. Prime Minister, I would prefer you to read it.'

The usually confident Colonel set his gaze upon the desk. The Prime Minister hesitated, then said; 'Alright.'

He opened the case and pulled out its only contents: a folder marked CLASSIFIED: PRIME MINISTER ONLY He began to read. West Bank Incident #33217 August 14, 2008 Transcript of Interrogation of Grant Moore, lead suspect by Agent Bevin, Chief Interrogator, Mossad

Bevin: Mr. Moore, do you know why you're here? Moore: Ummm, not really. Bevin: Not really. Well, were you really in the West Bank on August 14, 2008? Moore: Uhh, yeah. Bevin: Yes, you were. Now we're getting somewhere. Your memory is clearing. Perhaps you can also remember a little about the incident that led to 3 days of bloodshed, over 400 deaths, 1200 injuries and nearly $5,000,000 in damage?

Moore: Uh, O.K. What do you want to know? Bevin: What do I want to know? What do I want to know? Who the fuck is this guy? Who are you? Who do you work for? Moore: I'm self -employed.

Bevin: Oh, you are telling me you came up with this whole thing by yourself: finances, planning, execution ...do you take us for fools? I have little patience for games, Mr. Moore. Perhaps you need us to convince you to loosen your tongue. Moore: Hold on here! I think we have a big misunderstanding here. Financing, planning, do you think I'm a terrorist? Damn, I was just shopping at the shouk. Bevin: Shopping at the shouk? Do you expect me to believe that? We have you on camera running from the scene waving your arms in the direction of the uprising and inciting violence by calling out to join in the melee.

Moore: NO! NO! NO! I wasn't screaming 'JOIN', I was screaming 'RUN'. And I wasn't pointing, I was flailing ... it ... it wasn't my best moment. The whole thing just got out of control. Bevin: Why don't you explain what happened?

Moore: I was shopping in the shouk when I saw a miniature hookah that I liked. Ahmed, I think that was his name, asked me if I wished to purchase. I asked him how much. He said $80. I said he had to be kidding and offered him $5. He said he was insulted and told me to stop jewing him down. I said that only thing that was going down was his mom on a goat. Bevin: And that's when the violence started? Moore: No. That's just the usual banter. We traded prices and barbs. He said my nose sucked in all the air and made it hard to breathe and I said that I was doing the others a favor by saving them from his stench.

Bevin: Then? Then the violence? Moore: No, we were still bartering. Bevin: When exactly did the violence start?

Moore: I was just about to buy the hookah for $6 when I realized that I had an extra shirt on. It was hot so I took it off. His eyes went wide and he pointed to my shirt and screamed 'RED SOX! Fuck you!' He pulled back his robe and had a Yankees shirt on underneath. He screamed 'Youkalis is a fag!' My reaction was automatic. Ass-Rod can't catch a fucking ball! Then he called me a Fenway Fag. I called him a Yank-me fan. Then he says 'Yankees: 25 Championships ... Red Sox ... 2 ... they have none of these!'

With that, he grabs his crotch, pulls his balls back till they disappear, and starts parading around with his hand doing the limp wrist thing. Listen, I can put up with a lot but there are some things you just don't do. There no fucking way was I letting that asshat get away with that.

Red Sox hate the Yankees. Yankees hate the Red Sox. It goes back to our grandfathers. But over the line is over the line. I took the hookah and cracked him over the head with it. Then fans from both teams came out of the woodwork, putting on hats or t-shirts and taking sides. Taunts turned to pushing. Pushing turned to punches, knives came out and someone set a tent on fire. Then an Uzi was fired, and another, and another. It just got out of control from there. That's when I took off. Transcriber Note: over a minute of silence occurs Bevin: Then what did you do? Moore: I went back to my hotel, ate a light snack, and checked the score of the Sox game.

Copyright © Grant 2009

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