I love a parade


It’s morning in Guantanamo Bay Prison. Wakey wakey, everyone.
Normally the guards yank a detainee out of their cell, strip them, put a frilly dress on them, and parade them around the camp.
However, it’s the Fourth Of July, and things get a little patriotic.
“Open 157!” shouts a voice.
Mohammed rips another page out of his Koran, sighing. He’s used to the drill.
“Forget the beard,” says a corporal.
Mohammed goes limp, letting them clothe him in the red, white, and blue suit.
“Now get on the stilts, Uncle Sam,” said the lieutenant. “And mind the hat. It’s windy.”