“C’mon, Mustafa, get ready.”“Quiet, please, quiet,” he said, scratching his buttocks.“No, we must go. Hurry up and change!”“I can’t....I need a few more hours of rest.”“No time for rest, Mustafa. Let’s go, get ready.”“I really can’t. I’m sick.”“That’s the devil inside of you...”“Oh, not this again...”“ ... yes, the devil. We must go to the mosque. Don’t you remember, you’re an Imam! You must learn how to pray, and the mosque is the best place.”“Even the Imam must have an off-day,” he said. I was in the bedroom of Air Force One. I commandeered it from the President. He could fly on one of the many VIP planes the Air Force maintained for other important dignitaries now that the USA was subordinate to our Theocracy. There was a nice, if not spacious, cabin with a bed on the plane for the President's use, which I currently lay naked on. Desiree and Alison slept next to me—cuddled cutely together.In the week since we defeated Brandon and declared ourselves Gods and Protectors of the. More

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