This transmission is classified. Failure to comply is punishable by nuclear detonation within a hurricane, under the Americans with Disabilities Act Section III, Subpart E, 36.506.
—Royal Palace. Riyadh, Saudi Arabia
”My friend. I need you to understand there is a certain protocol, my friend.”
”Well. Lets get on with it. What are the rules for visiting the king of towelheads?”
”The first rule. There is no smoking, my friend. Put that out. Unless his excellency invites you to do so, or if he takes a puff on his pipe—not once, not twice, but thrice.”
”Ok”
“The second rule, my friend. Do not touch his excellency. Unless he first touches you. If he chooses to hold your hand, you may not let go until he lets go. Do not hold on after he lets go, my friend.”
”You want me to hold hands? What the hell?”
”His Excellency may greet you with a manly embrace, my friend. Greet him in return, like this.”
The Royal Vizier grabbed the ungainly gentleman and kissed both his cheeks.
”What kind of gay shit is this?”
”Do not imply in any way His Excellency is a Zionist, my friend.”
”But you want me hold his hand and make out with him?”
”Do not imply he has relations with the whore, Lindsey Lohan. He is very discerning about who he keeps in his harem, my friend.”
”Sounds like he’s into dudes.”
“Try not to say “please,” so much but do say “thank you” and “my friend” a lot. To the point where such words seem to have no meaning. Its an Arab thing.“
“Thank you. Lets get this gay shit out of the way, my friend. How’s that?”
“Finally, a warning. His Excellency may or may not have Tourette’s Syndrome.”
”Wait…what?”
This transmission is classified. Failure to comply is punishable by nuclear detonation within a hurricane, under the Americans with Disabilities Act Section III, Subpart E, 36.506.
“Your Excellency, my friend. Thank you, my friend, for allowing me to speak with you, my friend, on such short notice…my friend.” The ungainly man began. He was dressed in a cheap suit, heavily sweat-stained from being outside in Riyadh for the better part of the morning”
”Why yes my friend. Anything for my American diplomat friends, my friend.” The king pulled out a long pipe and took three long puffs. The American pulled out a cigarette in kind.
-slap-
“NO SMOKING INFIDEL”
“Hey, but that guy said—“
”I’m sorry, my friend. I did not mean that.”
”…You slapped me.”
The king walked over and gave the sweaty man a hug.
”I’m sorry, I don’t want to kiss you.”
“You must return His Excellency’s manly embrace” the Royal Vizier whispered.
”But I don’t want to. No means no…my friend.”
-slap-
“DEATH TO AMERICA”
”What did he do that for? The American asked the Vizier.
He just shrugged.
“Look, I need to talk to you about your oil production facility. SPACE SMITH entered our solar system and raped your oil fields.”
–slap–
“NOT SPACE SMITH”
The American again looked at the Vizier. “Is this his Tourette’s?” The Vizier just shrugged.
”American man, Bolton say the Persian pig-dogs send drone to blow up oil field. We take good care of Houthi rebels and send them package filled with the fleas of a thousand camels.” The king replied. By fleas of a thousand camels—MEAN RAPE.
”Wait, what?”
“American man, Bolton say Persian pig-dogs easy to defeat with purchase of American weapons. By defeat—MEAN RAPE.”
”Bolton is a retard, thats why he got fired. Why are you listening to him?” The American asked.
“American man, Bolton is a good man. We see eye to eye on Persian pig-dogs. Bolton take hard line on Persian pig-dogs. By take hard line–MEAN RAPE.”
“Now you are scaring me.” The American replied. “You can keep telling the world Iran backed rebels blew up your oil facility. In fact I encourage that.”
“I like you, my friend. I want you to be my friend, my friend. I encourage you to be my friend. By encourage–MEAN RAPE.”
“What?”
–slap–
“NOT SPACE SMITH”
“No, it was SPACE SMITH. He raped your oil facility, and he’ll do it again. It’s an ancient evil scouring the universe raping everything in it’s path.”
–slap–
“You think I don’t know that?” Mohammad Bin Salman asked quietly.
“What? No. SPACE SMITH is a state secret.”
“The secret is out, my friend.”
The king then gave the sweaty man a hug. A long hung. He kept hugging the fat, sweaty man that reaked of unfiltered camels and tandoori.
“You can stop this at any time.”
The king whispered into the American’s ear…
“SPACE SMITH, NEVER STOP”
“What?”
“COME WITH ME TO RECEPTION HALL”
“What, no…you are surprisingly strong…” He looked at the Vizier, who was now waving.
“You must return His Excellency’s manly embrace…”
“HALALALALALALALALALALALAL”
This transmission is classified. Failure to comply is punishable by nuclear detonation within a hurricane, under the Americans with Disabilities Act Section III, Subpart E, 36.506.
”I’m still working on that 3D rendering of a sandwich you want me to order tomorrow. Turkey and avacado on sourdough.” The hipster answered.
”Hey genius, my agency subsidized them. We paid for your secret sugar beets. Now we need you to return the favor.” He took a long, orgasmic drag of the cigarette and blew it in Musk’s face. “The Opportunity Rover did not just go offline because its 
A Good Samaritan in a MAGA hat gives him a cigarette.