ISIS rodents sit around their table during an Iftar banquet with an Ayzeedi child as the main course.  Unfortunately for the impious rodents, the yoghurt they were about to sip was loaded with Ricin Powder and Sodium Monofluoroacetate courtesy of Syrian Army Intelligence Catering, Inc.


Al-Raqqa:  Don’t believe the news about any poisoning in Mosul.  While the Iraqi military might have been overeager to report this as some harbinger of better things to come, the real incident took place in Al-Raqqa City, the Caliph of Cockadoodledoo’s capital and the hub of all retrograde thinking and open heresy outside Saudi Arabia.

Here is the real story as reported from Damascus to SyrPer:  On June 6th, 2015, a group of mostly British, Chechen, Iraqi and Turk terrorists decided to share a Ramadan Feast (Iftaar) at 6 shallow round tables meant to accommodate the wounded caliph himself, Abu Bakr Al-Baghdaadi, who, evidently, was enjoying his feast through a process of intubation overseen by Turk medical quacks – and somewhere in Southern Turkey.  The ISIS terrorists, always looking for that moment nouvaute to advertise their priceless etiquette, decided on engorging themselves with a living Ayzeedi child as the main course.  In truth, the gathering was reported to a group of freedom fighters linked to the SAA-MI who transmitted the Intel to Damascus.  A plan was drawn up and approved by General Muhammad Mahalla.  It would involve Syrian intelligence operatives delivering a “container” (وعاء ) of Ricin powder and another of Sodium Monofluoroacetate (as a flavor enhancer).  In actuality, neither poison has any flavor or odor.  Just like vodka.  We just wanted to make sure they all died.

The Sunday previous to that, the substances were delivered by a truck carrying crates of vegetables from a nearby farm along the river.  Nobody thought anything of it.  Not even the truck driver.

Oh, this Ramadan Iftar was going to be spezialitaat, as the Germans say.  Chechen rodent terrorists insisted on a Ukrainian-type Borscht, a beet soup filled with beef and lamb spiced up with onions, parsley and peppers.  The British terrorists were resolved to eat a halaal shepherd’s pie.  The Iraqis wanted “pacha”, a stew whose primary ingredient is lamb head and the Turks settled on a big bowl of mint yoghurt.  So much fun and so little time.

Abu Khinnaws Al-Sheeshaani dives into a meal prepared by the best chefs at the Syrian Army’s Military Intelligence Cooking School.


The dinner took place in an apartment just to the east of the Al-Safaa` Mosque.  Plenty of Yazeedi (var: Ayzeedi) slaves were engaged to serve up the goodies while trained chefs prepared the meal for the hungry horde of hucksters, hacks and heretics.  Problem: the chefs were not real chefs.  They were more like a Borgia family team of chemists.  Why, they followed the recipes implicitly, the aroma of the simmering gastronomical masterpieces wafting into the dining area where the ISIS rats were all seated on the floor, their legs folded neatly – their fingers stained with the ungloved curiosity of raving proctologists.  You could see their spittle flowing down their beards, percolating down every greasy hair, over the fleas and pus which collected in the living jungle carpeting their faces.


When the meal arrived there was jubilation.  According to Monzer, who found all this very funny, (I wonder why), the rodents didn’t even wait for sundown.  They embraced the meal with the kind of savagery associated with sharks in a feeding frenzy, or prize Iowan swine attacking a pile of yams, or, better yet, Belgians seated around a keg of beer – it was pure pandemonium.  Such piety must not go unrewarded.   No sooner had they scarfed down one platter after another than some started to feel “woozy”.  One terrorist is said to have tried to induce vomiting while bending over the apartment balcony his polluted index finger stuffed down his gullet, his entrails coughing up the toxic filth over the heads of passers-by.  Others began to twitch.  Some started to spasmodically eruct their meals while supine on the floor.  It was a ghastly sight – such a lovely soiree turning into this surreal Grande Bouffe.  Snarling, snorting, sniveling, suppurating and sneezing, some rats simply died their eyes wide open staring into the intestines of oblivion.  Others took longer as they darted to the door expectorating, vomiting and exploding amidst the clamor, the clangor and the bleating of “Allahu Akbar”.  Yeah, sure.

In any case,  the Ricin and its lethal sister did their job.  45 were reported dead with only 13 surviving the all-you-can-eat extravaganza.   Chalk one more up to the Syrian Military Intelligence Service.  Remember, don’t buy your next banquet from Military Intelligence Catering.  ZAF

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