There is something quite sinister festering in Little Iran. The Muslim Brotherhood are up to their tricks again, their eye this time on Prince Albert. Noble warrior of a far-away land and a threat to the Brotherhood and their burka bitches, Prince Albert might rescue the burka bitches from their slave labor of bomb making.
The thought has crossed their mind for just the other day, while flooding the southwest field of Gaza where peppers, lemons and butternut squash lay ripening, I heard them marching. Back and forth a Muslim Brotherhood jihadist paced every inch of Little Iran, his burka bitch close at hand and obedient.
It was weird, every section, step by step, was measured out in paces. He came so close to the fence, I could smell the heady aroma burka bitches carry. They have to be ripe for if they get caught with the smell of gunpowder on them from their constant bomb making, it could foil the whole operation and place Little Iran in jeopardy of financial ruin.
Prince Albert is loud, he boasts of his many conquests, while smoking tobacco, when he was a warrior chieftain in his far-away land. They hear everything, the Muslim Brotherhood--everything. So they know what he is capable of and are frightened he might invade them to steal a Burka Bitch.
We know he has no interest in their Burka Bitches, but the heavily clothed women hear things and that sets them wild. Wild for freedom to cuss and swear at the world and their plight in it. It is why Prince Albert should be careful of the long knives and sabers that lay hidden in their loose fitting clothing of linen of the Muslim Brotherhood when they casually greet you on the street.
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