Then came 25 SEALs all dressed in black with helmet cameras in their caps to record on video a certain tomb. The SEALs sat down on a tombstone and inquired of the people who came by after a certain Osama bin Laden.
He did something 30 years ago. He did something 20 years ago. He did something 10 years ago. He did something yesterday and today and tomorrow. He sealed his doom and now the SEALs will record his tomb for all to watch in the white room.
You never know if it’ll happen again. You know it’ll happen again. You never can tell with a man like that. There came a call like thunder’s peal. Now we will kill. Kill squealed the SEALs in thunder’s voice. Kill, kill.
So now they blast him in the head. A slight recoil. A staggering blow. They smashed his skull and slit his brain. They got his brain oozing from his smashed eye. They got him good. It’s good to get. A slight recoil. The SEALs with the helmet cameras on their caps smash and slash.
There is a mower. Death he’s called.
So now they measure his length and take his fingerprints and catch him fast in the gurney’s cast and bring him along to the water’s shore and the black ship’s masts and tip him with an easy plash, a gentle slide into the black. His body ran, it ran through caverns measureless to man down to a sunless sea. Five miles meandering with a mazy motion down and down to a lifeless ocean.
The seventh SEAL pulled up his pants and walked back and forth on the black ship’s slant with eight thousand sails and fifty thousand cannons over the tomb. He thought of his tranquil father back home. It agreed with him to think of his father. His father once said to the seventh SEAL, “You’re my best boy along the black road.”
For the time being, everything is fine. Then comes a call like thunder’s peal.