The Diary of PuSay Hussein Part 2
Saddam's unusual daughter's secret journal
oh my. the skies above are littered with bombs, looking for my father may allah bless his name and my brothers uday, koozay and ooglay, may allah reign their antisocial tendencies.
lucky for one time to be a woman, i am, if one can call a woman someone who wears dungarees, sensible shoes and pocket-t shirts beneath her flowing burqa.
i try hard to soothe the ladies trapped here in the palace with me with sarah
mclaughlan cds, chocolate morsels, kama sutra edible massage oils and in ministering to their intense physical cravings with their bottoms facing away from mecca may allah praise his hometown.
my father may allah regrow his shot off arms remains in charge, though he has difficulty speaking with the shards of shrapnel in his neck.
my brother uday may allah grant him testicles larger than olives is fine although he has been sitting in the same chair for two weeks now, beginning to smell like camel smegma.
my brother koozay may allah give him a thousand sons also is fine physically but emotionally i fear for him as he seems to be repeating a high pitched 'allah get me out of here' continually as he runs in tight circles rubbing his head.
the women in the palace continue to daunt me with requests to relieve their intimate physical needs now that every iraqi male over age 8 is fighting against the devil american troops. my chin is raw from friction against their thatchy nether mounds and my hands are sprained from excessive wrist movements. my fingertips no longer have sensation and they are pruny as dried dates from excess digital application. alas my rough rider silicone accessory has long since been worn to an ineffectual nub and my harness lies in tatters.
my internet service provider IOL has been bombed so i am unable to order a replacement from american satanic company good vibrations may allah spare this establishment at least until i can reorder.
now that the palace women have ridden the sacred sapphic camel they tell me no longer will a regular male may allah continue to bestow favored grace toward them suffice.
this morning i was awakened by several of my servant women chanting i want pu-say at my door. i am weary but must do my duty may allah bless and replenish my sore biceps and wrists.