Over Tehran?

Seeing the lights of Tehran just ahead, the B-52 pilot got on the intercom with the president.

"Mr. President, we are over the target. The nuke is armed. The Bad Boy is ready to fly. Do I have a go from you?"

"Do it! Do it now! Drop that Bad Boy on those crazy bastards! End that civilization! All I wanted was a little respect and their oil. Now they'll see what happens when they cross me! I'm going to see them all burn!"

"Open the bomb bay doors."

The great Stratofortress, dizzingly high over the center of Tehran, opened its belly like a overweight black flying whale about to give birth.

"Bombs away!"

With a gentle shove the bombardier sent the president hurtling out the bomb bay doors and down into the glistening air high over Tehran, his blond toupee still clipped to his head but flapping in the high wind.

The 20 megaton nuke remained clipped into the belly of the beast.

"I'll kill you all with my bare hands!" the president screamed, as he fell through the whipping wind, swinging out at the air with hapless punches and kicks.

He disappeared somewhere into the peaceful city below.

A millions lights from a million kitchens and bedrooms twinkled in a carpet of life beneath the great peaceful bomber high and silent in the night sky.

"Sorry, Iran, but he's your problem now," the pilot said. "Close the bomb bay doors and let's go home."