The Peculiar Case of Alfred Cader

This little number was written by Jon Harman and I've stolen it from his blog because it is funny as fuck. Check out Jon's site by clicking on the kaotic oddchild link on the right hand side of this page.

So there was this guy Alfred Cader, a really ordinary guy who went about his business and tried to keep a low profile. He was friendly enough, truly amiable, that song by Paul Simon “You can call me Al” could have been written about him.

But in September 2001, his world collapsed. At 8:46am on Tuesday 11th, Alfred’s life changed forever, the events that were to unfold would be irreversible.

Alfred had arisen for work on this fateful day, full of exuberance and ready to take the world by both fists, he had seldom felt so invigorated, but today he felt a special purpose. A drive. Today was the day that the world would sit up and listen to Al Cader.

He switched on the radio as he started his car at 8:47 am to go to work, the news was unbelievable, traffic jams left right and centre throughout his journey, he knew his morning was going to be terrible, who else in the world could have this kind of bad luck, 4 traffic routes ruined and no way to know how to get to work.

Al worked for the Office of Special Administrative Management Aid, a small government aid agency that dealt with the administration and management of aid to war torn and under developed countries. Charities raised the funds and Al’s department would manage the funds and set up specialist training for the administration and communication of the aid. Al was a processor.

Knowing he was going to be late today, Al tried to phone work from his mobile whilst stuck in the traffic jam. All he got was a hiss, no dialling tone, nothing. Just interference. His day really was turning out bad, could it get any worse?

At 8:49a.m he decided to turn off the motorway and deviate from his normal route, this was to have major ramifications in the days to follow.

His onboard navigation tool started to go on the fritz, damn he was relying on the computerised tones to direct him to work. He was going to have to work this one out on his own.

Before he knew it, he was downtown driving through skid row. He had never seen this part of town, as he passed numerous down and outs, he felt a strong sense of patriotism and need to stand up and fight for the little guy. This was just plain wrong.

The traffic lights turned red, and before he knew it a man was squeegying his windscreen. Al decided to give him 10 bucks, make his day. He rolled down the window and the Albanian refugee approached.

As Al extended his arm to hand over the tenner, the Albanian suddenly produced a small craft knife or box cutter as they were now known.

Within ten seconds Al was standing on the pavement and seeing the Albanian drive off with his hijacked car. This day was really turning into a shit storm. There was no way Al was ever going to forget September 11th.

Al finally got a signal and managed to phone O.S.A.M.A (work), government agencies just loved acronyms. Anyway, he explained the situation, but they weren’t too concerned with his problems. They told him to get to a radio or TV as soon as possible, the world was under attack.

Panicked, Al managed to find a radio that a bum was listening to. Something about a terrorist attack, then he heard the details that would make him run for cover.

The government believed the attacks were the work of Al Qaeda, or as Al heard it, Al Cader.

Al soon disappeared into hiding and nobody has been able to find him since.