Glurg, glurg. Effluent sloshed out of the bathroom of the Al Rashid hotel into the basement of the luxury Baghdad hostelry. Gabloob, a bottle popped out of the commode.

    The duty Space Hamzter shouted, "Message."

    Chief Space Hamzter waded through the muck, picked up the bottle, retrieved the message inside, and read it.

    "Hamzters," he yelled. "Get ready, tonight we're going to a party."

    The Hamzters scurried to the storeroom in the back of the banquet hall where they kept peanut butter stolen from the US Army and other goodies. They quickly donned fashionable suicide bomber vests and mixed Molotov cocktails spiked with Sterno.

    As it got dark and sniper fire echoed through the city, the Hamzters followed Omar, their local guide. Not to be mixed up as targets, the Hamzters wore old spiked Prussian helmets and goose stepped down the back Alleys, singing La Marseillaise. Soon they were out of town.

    Ali Baba met them outside his cave. "Welcome, welcome, hamsters."

    "Hamzters, from planet Z." Chief Hamzter corrected.

    "You have to leave those bottles outside, now that Sadam is missing we're fanatical about alcohol."

    "Molotov cocktails are non-alcoholic," Epicure Hamzter offered Ali Baba a bottle.

    Two hours later, filled with lamb and rice, the Hamzters sat on oriental carpets, smoked hookah pipes and drank sweet tea.

    Ali Baba said, "Feel free to dance while we wait for our guests of honor."

    The Hamzters jumped up, slurped from their bottles stuffed in the suicide vests and began their latest dance, the shock 'n awa. This dance required wild gyrations. The cave filled with the smell of singed fur as Hamzters belched fire.

    A trumpet fanfare brought the dance to a sudden stop.

    A man in red smoking jacket, cigar in his mouth and a brandy glass in hand came into the cave.

    "Salaam aleikum, Hamzters. Welcome to the Iraqi underground."

    "You look much more human out of power," Chief Hamzter said.

    Saddam laughed." I learned something from the British. Now I'm a robbing hood--a folk hero."

    "How nice."

    "I have a complaint."

    Chief Hamzter scratched his buck teeth. "We Hamzters always listen."

    Saddam handed a piece of paper. "Tell that fellow Bremmer he's three months behind on the rent of my palace, and if he doesn't pay promptly, I'll have to start eviction procedures."

    Wearing a tail coat, Legal Hamzter came forward and emitted a wise, "Hmm."

    "And tell him, his combat boots are wearing out my precious carpets."

    Fashionable Hamzter, in a gold lamé suicide vest, said. "That human lacks taste. I tried to sell him a proconsul uniform."

    Sindbad the sailor came in together with Sheherezade.

    Sheherezade said, "We have a beautiful history and this lout in combat boots ruins our image."

    "Definitely not a colorful character," Sindbad added.

    Ali Baba's forty thieves chanted, "We want pizzaz, we want pizzaz."

    Supply Hamzter, took pizzas out of his suicide vest and handed them to the forty thieves.

    Chief Hamzter turned to Saddam. "The Missing Persons Bureau is anxious about your wellbeing, they're offering fifty million shmakos. You should go to their office and collect. It's more money than your palace rent."

    Saddam downed his Cognac. "I would if I was worth that much."