The Fate of Al Shamial

Somewhere in Afghanistan...

“Welcome to my humble cave, Khalil.”

“Humble? It’s a lovely hole in the ground Rashad. And I love what you’ve done with the throw pillows.”

“Thank you, Khalil! But sit my friend. Let us dine. Some tea perhaps?”

“Oh, thank you, Rashad, that would be splendid indeed.”

“Khalil. Before we plan the bombing of another plane, I have some bad news.”

“Bad news? I don’t believe it! Surely you are joking Rashad.”

“No. I’m afraid it’s true. I have failed you Khalil; I am very ashamed.”

“Well? What is this about Rashad?”

“Trusting me with the care of your prized camel was a great honor, my friend!”

“Yes. Go on.”

“I know how much you cherish him; it’s all my fault. All my fault.”

“Please! Rashad?”

“He’s dead.”

“Al Shamial? Dead? Tears of Allah! Are you sure?”

“We’re eating him.”

“No! NO! Not Al Shamial!”

“Is he not delicious? A little heavy on the cardamom perhaps but…”

“Oh… Rashad! How can this be? Have we not been like brothers since birth? As boys, did we not share our Coca-Cola while we burned the scorpions in the wadi? Surely this was not your fault …my esteemed friend. But please, tell me, what caused my camel to die…while under your trusted care?”

“Thirst.”