A Terrorist in Paradise

Delbert McClinton Mohammad was a Jihadist.

At this very moment travelling on a Grey Hound bus out of Miami headed to the Keys. His plan was to blow up Naval Air Station Key West or, at least, as many fighter jets as he could attack before being taken down and receiving his promised virgins. But he liked the scenery. It was a bright sunshiny Florida day through Islamorada and the Seven Mile Bridge. Del, as he wished to be called, had earlier decided that he would do a little vacationing on this side of heaven’s gate before he gave his life for the cause. Virgins were fine but he’d like to deal with the ‘experienced’ type of woman before he had to do all that de-flowering. Plenty of time. He wasn’t given a deadline, so to speak.

In Key West he took a pedicab to a bed and breakfast and checked in. He got to his room and unpacked his clothes, his bits of snacks and the c-4 explosive and timer. He’d buy a gun later at a local store and because it was Florida didn’t anticipate any problems. He was an American. He’d become a Mohammad much later. On the agenda were cocktails, maybe a little ganja, and definitely some women who seemed plentiful to his casual eye. Wasn’t but twenty short minutes before he hit the Green Parrot and started downing cheap beer. It was just past four on an Autumn afternoon and the sky was still full of sun. Tourist women abounded. Del wandered off in his mind to a nice eye watering buzz.

Joe Beans had his buzz on also but as yet could still fathom the needs of his mission. He needed some wild drugs or money to purchase same. If he took his meds as prescribed by the Veteran’s Administration he would be sane as a president but he didn’t and sold his legal drugs for vodka and went to play polo in his head. That game was on hold as he was in a bedroom at a bed and breakfast and was rifling through someone’s belongings looking for cash. Not quite sober as a president but yet not totally wasted Joe Beans knew c-4 explosive when he saw it. He had spent a year in the Ia Drang Valley in Viet Nam. C-4 was common as Hershey bars. In some ways, he thought, better than cash! Joe Beans went out to meet his night. It seems hardly possible that c-4 explosive could be in deadlier hands than a jihadist. But it was.

Harry Denks was the unluckiest professional fisherman in the Keys. And his inheritance money was running low. He trailored his 28 foot fiberglass fishboat with twin 300 horsepower Yamaha engines all over the islands. His gig was that he’d bring the charter to you. He made good money, over a thousand bucks a day sometimes, but no one ever caught fish of any consequence. That reputation catches up with you.

Harry would take off in his car sometimes and visit the Tiki Hut on Sugarloaf. There were always a bunch of semi-friendly semi-locals to shoot the shit with. And with no charter on a particular day he saw no reason not to while it away sipping cold beers and the occasional gin and tonic. He toked on his cigarette and dreamed of better days or maybe a hot woman walking into the bar. The other charter captains were reaping record rewards!

Later in the evening Del found himself on the 800 block on Duval Street. He had met several lovely women and was sure there were going to be several more. But at present he was in a low lighted booth in a bar with a striking redhead who had her hands down his pants. That she was gorgeous was obvious to anyone and Del was breaking champagne bottles in his mind as he launched the USS Mohammad! Red sky at night sailor’s delight.

Joe Beans, by now extremely inebriated and staggering around Higgs Beach, had lost his intentions. He had a plan to sell something but he just couldn’t quite remember what it was. He took another chug of rotgut vodka and puked on his threadbare sneakers. This was noticed by an old female friend of his who had similar mental defects. It wasn’t long before she had him in the bushes making him sexual promises while consuming his booze. After he passed out she removed the block of c-4 from his pocket. She had no idea what it was and so when she got up from the crabgrassed ground and walked to her next destiny she tossed the block into a boat sitting on a trailer with twin 300 horsepower Yamahas.

There must be a voice in some people’s minds that says something like, “you’ve gone too far”! That would be some people but not in people who exist on this planet like Del. Del had decided that his exploratory surgery using both hands was needed on this particular occasion and proceeded towards that exact event. Well, expecting a coke and getting a root beer might be depressing but expecting what he was expecting and finding a penis was a different story altogether. Still, with the alcohol and all, it took several minutes for the confirmation. He took the exit, stage left. And upchuck he did.

Next day Harry Denks got a last minute charter. Some rich dude from Wall Street renting a house at $5000 a week. He wanted a half day so Harry took him out past American Shoals and chummed for yellow tuna. AS all days just as gorgeous as a newborn baby, the water calm, the heat not unbearable. Then for hours and hours despite moving the boat around nothing happened. Nothing happened at all. Not even an albatross! Harry’s reputation seemed to be sealed by an act of great Neptune. Frankly Harry was beginning to see himself as a general loser. No argument here.

Joe Beans was awake and coherent. This was unusual. Sometimes a transformation would happen without his prescriptions. This was the day. And a fairly large block of stolen c-4 was missing! And he wanted to give Cathy a slap and get his rotgut vodka back. He went for the explosives first. Hell, it was the right thing to do.

Del was kind of out of it for a while. He could walk but not so well. His mission to destroy Naval Air Station Key West came to mind. He was in trouble with the mullah. And apparently he had sinned. In several ways. If we gave Del a pony and gave him a tv series maybe that would have changed his outlook. But no. Delbert McClinton Mohammad was a jihadist of the first degree. That he liked to play dice with the tranny’s in those darkened bars was another story altogether. Sorry, Islam, this guy ain’t a good candidate!

Harry had a client for fishing on Lower Sugarloaf at the Bait Shop. The guy was a movie producer doing some location scouting and wanted to do some fishing out on American Shoals. They stocked up on bait and beer and took off for the deep water. Drifting with the tide they caught a few small yellowtail but nothing of any significance. The producer was getting irked because all he heard everyday on the radio at dinnertime was how much fish the other charters were catching. Harry’s results were quite unsatisfactory. If only they knew that a swarm of Bluefin tuna were feeding below only a few yards distant. Purely out of boredom Harry started cleaning his boat of things that were bio-degradable. Among the items he threw overboard was an odd clay like cake he had never seen before.

Some things about c-4 are not known. Specifically what water and water pressure might do to it. About a minute after the cake sank into the water there was a huge explosion about 50 feet down. It shocked them both and the producer spilled his beer all over himself. In a few seconds dead and live tuna were swarming the boat near the surface. With eyes agog the two fisherman studied the situation not knowing just what had blown up or why. But fish are fish and they proceeded to harvest the dead ones just as their lines grew taut.

When he answered his cell phone Dell was confronted with the voice of his mullah. The boss jihadist screamed and cajoled with the worker bee jihadist. Dell had a hangover and was feeling quite guilty about diddling a tranny in that dark, dank bar. He regretted not waiting on his virgins. The gist and finality of that conversation was that Dell had better get his ass over to the Naval Air Station and start doing some damage. And Dell and his hangover proceeded to do just that. But first he ripped open the 8 ball of cocaine he had purchased from the tranny and started snorting lines. God was great!

Forgetting what he was doing was a Joe Beans specialty. So he forgot about the c-4 and went looking for liquor. He found one of his hobo buddies down on Higgs Beach and lifted his half empty bottle of vodka. Life was grand. Then he forgot some more. After a while he forgot everything.

At the gate of NAS Key West there was a young recruit just issued his first m-1 with live ammunition and a side arm. He served in the Coast Guard on shore duty. He was lovingly and endearingly referred to as ‘the idiot’.

When Harry and the producer got back to Sugarloaf they counted seventeen tuna weighing anywhere from 50 to 150 pounds. They decided to sell most of the catch to the A&B Lobster House just off Duval for big cash and of course kept a few for themselves and friends. The producer expressed quite vehemently that he would tell all his friends about Harry’s fishing acumen. The explosion, although not understood was quickly forgotten and Harry would become a big name in the charter fishing industry. The producer made a movie about the underside of life in Key West and gave Harry a bit part. He played a dress salesman that sold exclusively to cross dressers and the like but got his name in the credits. It was a flop everywhere but in the Keys and Provincetown, Massachusetts.

Del, not the smartest jihadist, drove into the gate of NAS Key West in a broken down Toyota with great looking mag wheels he had purchased off a Puerto Rican kid on Stock Island. ‘The idiot’ waved him down but the mission for Allah was so important that Del did not stop. What he was going to do without his c-4 and only a .20 caliber pistol with just two bullets is anybody’s guess. But there was no need for guessing as ‘the idiot’, from a family related to the Hatfields of West Virginia and an excellent shot holed all four tires with just four shots. The other MPs quickly surrounded the car and arrested the worst jihadist since the guy what tried to blow up his shoes on an airliner some years back. ‘The idiot was promoted and awarded a silver star. He wears ‘idiot’ as a badge of honor to this day. Del is on a hunger strike in Guantanamo. He never tells his brothers about the tranny on Duval Street.

Joe Beans sobers up once in a while and meets friends at the Green Parrot for beers. He shouldn’t drink at all but when he takes his meds he’s sober as a judge. Or a president. And he’s always clean shaven and wearing clean clothes. During these times he thinks back to an event where he was sure he stole some c-4. But he just can’t be sure. Probably never happened at all.