Porkfight.

January 21st, 2011

Grace’s assignment: Write a “what if” alternative history piece. In this case, what if explosive weapons had never been invented?

“Sausage guns?” President Ahmedinejad was insulted by his defense minister’s suggestion. “Why would we use conventional weapons?”

As far as Defense Minister Mahari was concerned, the sausage gun had always been effective in close combat. It’s powerful spring-loaded piston ejected the mashed up pork at great force, within which were tiny chips of pig-bone. It crossed his mind that the president had never been in actual combat. That’s why Ahmedinejad’s habit of talking down to his cabinet and military generals was so galling.

“I say we launch a pig’s-knuckle attack,” said Colonel Mushtari. “We can modify the ham-catapults and propel a few hundred-thousand of them at a time.” The president half-smiled at the naivete of the young infantry leader. “Are you, my friend, unaware of the miniaturized pig’s-knuckle radar units the IDF soldiers carry in their backpacks?”

“I am fully aware of it, sir. Are you unaware of the Israeli radar-baffling technology?” Ahmedinejad slapped the impertinent colonel. “Pork-rind anti-radar has never worked. It’s so lightweight that the slightest breeze scatters them far beyond the battlefield.” He beamed at his defense minister. See, I’m not such a lightweight when it comes to munitions. Then he produced a blueprint from a large portfolio and laid it out on the planning table. “The canister depicted is propelled by a little-known element found in the earth. Uranium. The Jew Einstein, vile as he was, appeared to be on to something a century ago.” The president pointed to the wavy lines emanating from the funny little picture of balls all glued together. “I’ll explain in greater detail this afternoon when we visit the centrifuge.”

The president went to his suite, lay down on his couch, and in moments was asleep. He dreamed of a sky filled with dried pork rinds, falling like snow. He held his hands out to collect them and discovered to his horror that they were not made of pork at all. They were curled up and light as could be, but when he tried to pull them apart he discovered they were made of dried human skin. They were foreskins. He had no way of telling whether they were from Muslims or Jews. He woke up and noticed large flakes of dandruff on his black turtleneck sweater. He hurriedly brushed them off his shoulders.

“The centrifuge north of Tehran has done an incredible job of rendering and compressing pork bellies,” said the president. Yes, his ministers and generals in the van had heard it all before. Pork bellies, centrifuged and sundried, became hard, sharp and dense as shale. Shot like frisbees from motorized pork-belly slings, they could cut down an advancing army quite effectively. But they had to be used before micro-organisms and insects weakened the muscle fibers. Who didn’t regret the so-called bacon barrage of ’92? All the Israeli soldiers had to do was peel off the soft rashers from their uniforms and wipe the grease away.

They pulled into the complex just as the first wave of Israeli cargo planes flew over. They flew at an altitude of 400 feet — just out of range of the most advanced anti-aircraft pork catapults. The bursts of bacon-bits rose just short of the planes — retrofitted American C-130s, sold to Israel by the Saudis. The ramps of the aircraft were lowered and the Iranian leaders hurried to their pig shelters. Pigs fell, squealing and snorting, with heavy thuds. Those rotten Israelis were abrogating the Tehran convention — they were bombing Iran with live pigs. 

The attack went on for twenty minutes. The centrifuge and all its associated labs, needless to say, were completely destroyed. So that’s the way they want to play! thought Ahmedinejad.

We still have our scientists, but we’ve been wasting their talents trying to make porkchops from tofu grafted onto the ribs of sheep. No, we will rebuild. We will refine uranium and build a missile so powerful that it is capable of carrying a warhead anywhere in Israel. Pig-breeding Christians in Lebanon would be willing to do the dirty work.

Two years later, the Tel Aviv Hilton was brought down by an 8,000 pound sow.

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