The scene opens on Ahmed Chalabi, some years ago, attending a party in Chicago with his best friend, neo-conservative trailblazer Albert Wohlstetter:

ALBERT: ... so you see, the only real liberal is a conservative, and the only real conservatism is neo-conservatism.

AHMED: Wow. American politics are more complicated than I thought.

ALBERT: Actually, they're really simple. You just have to take control the definitions of words before other people can do the same.

AHMED: I see. That sounds a bit Orwellian, though.

ALBERT: Pfeh! Orwell was a commie... oh! Ahmed, I'd like you to meet some friends of mine. The skinny jug-ears is Paul Wolfowitz and the human jelly-roll is Richard Perle.

AHMED: Ah... nice to meet you both.

RICHARD & PAUL (in unison): Nice to meet you too, Ahmed.

AHMED: Um... so, I hear you guys are pro-Israel former liberals. Have I mentioned how much I hate Saddam Hussein? He kicked my wealthy family out of his country and we've had to live like Kings in Jordan, instead of Iraq. Damn bastard-

RICHARD & PAUL (in unison): But he's our ally against Iran, Ahmed.

ALBERT: You'll have to excuse them, Ahmed. One of the unfortunate side-effects of Neo-Conservatism is being unable to think for yourself while in a group.

AHMED: Really? How is that any different from being a liberal, all over again?

ALBERT, RICHARD & PAUL (in unison): Because now we're right.

AHMED: I see...

ALBERT, RICHARD & PAUL (in unison): Are you with us, Mr. Chalabi, or against us?

AHMED (with a big, big smile): I am extremely with you, gentlemen.

Time passes, and Chalabi gets his Doctorate in mathematics. Then he goes back to Jordan to enter the exciting world of Middle Eastern banking, which requires a lot of creative mathematics. And before long, there's lots of money rolling in and out of the back door of Petra Bank.

But sooner or later it all comes to light, and he's forced to flee the country in the trunk of a car. Unfortunately, the driver takes a wrong turn, and swerves dangerously off the road to avoid an ill-parked donkey cart. The car crashes through a barrier, pitches over a cliff, and rolls all the way down a mountainside... followed by the sound of an explosion!

Later, in a secret hospital under London, the white-suited neo-conservatives gather over the mangled human wreck that was Ahmed Chalabi.

PAUL WOLFOWITZ: What are his chances, gentlemen?

NEO-CON#1: We can rebuild him.

NEO-CON#2: We have the technology.

NEO-CON#3: We have the capability to make the world's first Bionic neo-conservative.

NEO-CON#4: Ahmed Chalabi will be that man.

NEO-CON#5: Better than he was before.

NEO-CONs #1-5 (in Unison): Better... stronger... smarter by half.

PAUL WOLFOWITZ: Just not too smart, alright? I don't need some wiseass con artist thinking for himself in the field.

NEO-CON#1: That won't be a danger. We'll make it so that he works for you and you only.

Months pass, and operation after operation is carried out. True to their word, the neo-conservatives rebuild him into a bionic superman... and superliar! We see him: run faster than a missile; pick up a tank and throw it away; walk into a market and buy everything for a dollar; and lie without hesitation or regret, even to himself!

PAUL WOLFOWITZ: Ahmed, you've exceeded my wildest expectations. I never had any idea you were this adept at lying. I had no clue you could be so... malleable.

AHMED (with a big, big smile): I am extremely malleable for the right cause, Paul.

PAUL WOLFOWITZ: That's just what I wanted to hear, Ahmed, because we need you now more than ever.

AHMED: What's happened?

PAUL WOLFOWITZ: Since you've been away, the world's map has changed yet again. Saddam Hussein is now the enemy of America, and we need to make sure that he's neutralized.

AHMED (with a big, big smile): I'm extremely happy to hear that, Paul. Shall I run to Baghdad and-

PAUL WOLFOWITZ: No! I'm sorry, my friend, but we cannot invade them. The American public was in favor of a rollback to the border, but nothing more. And even if we did invade, and did put a new, more controllable puppet on the throne, we can't afford another Shah of Iran type scenario.

AHMED: So what should I do?

PAUL WOLFOWITZ: I want you to set up a group of like-minded men, Ahmed. People who want to see a new, more friendly Iraq. People who'd be willing to act as a stage of operations against Iran, if need be. People who'd be willing to send oil to Israel, for that matter. And I want you and those people to act on our behalf in engineering a coup, when we call for it.

AHMED (with a big, big smile): I'm extremely enthusiastic about that, Paul.

PAUL WOLFOWITZ: Excellent. Oh, this is Condoleeza. She'll need to ask you a few questions regarding the fine-tuning of your bionic systems. If you'll excuse me...?

AHMED: Where are you going, Paul?

PAUL WOLFOWITZ: Oh, I have to see to Ariel Sharon's programming. He's been too good for too long... (winks)

CONDOLEEZA RICE: Mr. Chalabi, since you lost most of your body below the waist, we want to be sure we get this right. Can you describe, in as much detail as you'd care to, the exact parameters of your penis?

AHMED (with a big, big smile): I have an extremely big penis...

More time passes, and Ahmed Chalabi's group ­ the Iraqi National Congress ­ lies, cheats and talks its way into being the vanguard of neo-conservative efforts to create a new, more "friendly" Iraq. All the while, Ahmed uses his skills in creative mathematics to justify all the money he's getting from Washington.

And then, one day, opportunity knocks: President Clinton relies on Chalabi to oversee a coup attempt within Iraq!

PRESIDENT CLINTON (on the phone): Now, just be sure... mmm... are you sure... oh... are you very sure... very sure... that this is, um.... mmmmmm... the right time... yeah, that's it... the right time to be doing this...?

SOMEONE ELSE (on the phone): *GmmPH*

AHMED (with a big, big smile): Mr. President, I am extremely sure. We have the right people in place, with the right information and the right tools to get the job done. You leave everything to me.

PRESIDENT CLINTON: Oh, that's good... that's gooooood... oh, honey.

AHMED (smile dropping): Um, I didn't quite get that last bit, Mr. President.

PRESIDENT CLINTON: oooooooh...

SOMEONE ELSE (on the phone): *GmmmmmmPH! GmmmPh!*

AHMED: Um... I'm hanging up, now! Goodbye, Mr. President!

PRESIDENT CLINTON: oooooooooooooooooooh-*click*

FRIEND OF AHMED: But Ahmed, my friend, we don't have anything like that on the ground at all!

AHMED: Of course not! And we won't have anything when the next President asks us to do it, or the one after that, or the one after the one after that.

FRIEND OF AHMED: Then what shall we do when it fails?

AHMED: We pick up the pieces, and keep the new batch of suckers at home high on piss and propaganda. Meanwhile, we keep pumping all that money for the revolution into dummy accounts, and no one's the wiser. We'll be wiping with silk until Saddam finally kicks off, and then we pull the coup.

FRIEND OF AHMED: Oh, my friend, you are very clever.

AHMED (with a big, big smile): Extremely clever. Those Pro-Israeli bastards thought they could control me?

FRIEND OF AHMED: They should not have used Russian parts, then?

AHMED: Ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!

Their laughter echoes across the headquarters of the INC. But then, years later, 9/11 happens, and no one's laughing anymore.

The unforeseen threat catches everyone napping, and the neo-conservatives use the attack to ratchet up their plans. No longer will they be content to wait for a coup in Iraq! Now they will use the American military to do their bidding, and Ahmed Chalabi is called upon to be their point man.

COLIN POWELL (on the phone): But are you sure about these intelligence bulletins? I don't know, but they seem kind of too good to be true-

AHMED (with a big, big smile): Mr. Secretary, I am extremely certain about those files. They came from the brother of the cousin of the nephew of the daughter of the son of the neighbor of the son of the daughter of the nephew of the cousin of the brother of an Iraqi Major! They cannot be false!

COLIN POWELL (on the phone): So I have to convince the United Nations that there's a man, dressed like a giant chicken, who brings yellowcake, weapons-grade Uranium from Africa to Iraq by going from KFC to KFC all the way to Baghdad?

AHMED (with a big, big smile): Ex-ACT-ly!

COLIN POWELL (On the phone): And I have to tell them there's four bio-weapons labs in constant motion, continuously brewing up anthrax, which are all disguised as Grateful Dead tour busses?

AHMED (with a big, big, BIG smile): Extremely exactly! They also came from the brother of the cousin of the nephew of the daughter-

COLIN POWELL (On the phone): Okay! Okay! I get the picture, already. Thanks for your help, Ahmed.

AHMED (with a big, big, BIG, BIG smile): I'm extreeeemely happy to help.

Unfortunately, the evidence that came from the brother of the cousin of the nephew of the daughter of the son of the neighbor of the son of the daughter of the nephew of the cousin of the brother of an Iraqi Major really only came from the fevered, too clever by half imagination of Ahmed Chalabi, himself! The American forces landed, and searched all over for a man dressed like a giant chicken, the grateful dead's tour busses, two droids from an escape pod and a cow named Elsie... but found nothing at all! Not even a KFC!

But it was too late! Already, Chalabi, his friends and his family were back in Iraq. And it wasn't too long before they used his creative mathematics, and bionic powers of twisting the truth, to siphon even more money into his bank accounts.

But while Ahmed was living high, Washington was flying low ­ ducking each new disappointment, embarrassment and fraud the press was uncovering. Finally, Washington could take no more!

PAUL WOLFOWITZ: What can I say, Ahmed? You've let me down.

AHMED (on the phone, with a big, big smile): I'm extremely sorry to hear you say that, Paul. You wanted me to sell you this war, and I did. What more is there to say?

PAUL WOLFOWITZ: But I also wanted you to make things better for Israel. I wanted you to get oil flowing from Iraq to Haifa. I wanted you to get the people to recognize the state and do business with it-

AHMED (on the phone, smile dropping): Look, you might have made me a Bionic bullshitter, but there are some things even I can't sell to a Muslim Arab country, and that's one of them.

PAUL WOLFOWITZ: But you said you would.

AHMED (on the phone): And you believed me? You believed me?

PAUL WOLFOWITZ: So... you lied to me.

AHMED (on the phone, with a big, big, BIG, BIG, BIG smile): I'm extreeeeemely sorry it's taken you this long to figure it out, Paul. Extreeeeemely sorry. Maybe next time you'll think to include a failsafe?

And then he hung up, laughing, but not for long. For just then, something went terribly awry in his bionic mouth. A strange noise was heard in his jaw, and then another, and another! His mouth froze in place! His lips deflated like a pair of pierced flotation devices! And they settled over his mouth like red, meaty veils!

AHMED: Jebus Chrith! Muh mouf brugh!

FRIEND OF AHMED: Er... what did you say, my friend?

AHMED: Jebus Chrith! Muh mouf brugh!

FRIEND OF AHMED: Er... what did you say, my friend?

AHMED: Jebus Chrith! Muh mouf brugh!

FRIEND OF AHMED: Er... what did you say, my friend?

But poor Ahmed could only hold up a sign that said "Jesus Christ! My mouth broke."

FRIEND OF AHMED: Your mouth broke? Jesus Christ!

Yes, it was true: the mighty engine of bionic bullshit that had brought Ahmed Chalabi this far was no more ­ it had been strained too far for too long, and now, now that he had alienated himself from the men who had made him, there was no way to get it repaired...

Without the powers of mechanically-assisted lying, Ahmed Chalabi's pattern of deception fell down around him. He went from the hero of America to the enemy, and was powerless to stop the freefall.

And so he sits, in the ransacked and ruined remains of his compound... a broken man with an equally broken mouth and deflated lips, waiting for the axe to fall.

AHMED: Ah kutha beah kontendah... Ah kutha beah kontendah...

FRIEND OF AHMED: Er... what did you say, my friend?

AHMED: (Holds up a sign that says "I coulda been a contendah")

FRIEND OF AHMED: Oh...