"Dear Fatima, I am locked behind razor wire in an open cage with handcuffs and a slop bucket for feeding. How are you?
In general this is much better than Kabul although here the rats have more secret herbs and spices than back home. My guard, Bobby Joe Jack, sends his regards and says he once got VD off a Moslem whore in Kuwait so you can't be all bad. The only thing I don't like is that the camp has three compasses that point in different directions so that no one really know which way Mecca is. We take turns rotating.
They all say I am a terrorist but if they would only translate my business card they will see I am just a carpet salesman from Peshawar who's donkey got spooked.
If you see Osama, tell him he owes me thirty dina for the rug and 8 million U.S. for the rockets.
Love to all at Cave 28,
yours,
Fudon Yabib.
