McDonald’s Restaurant
Whitehorn, California
Me: Thanks for meeting me. I know there is a lot of heat on you. Are you going to blow up this restaurant?
Hayat: You’re welcome. No, I am trying to get a job here.
Me: I see you have an application.
Hayat: I have management potential. I used to be a cashier.
Me: Wasn’t Amedy jealous when you were working out in public, even though you were plotting a mass murder together?
Hayat: He would beat the HELL out of me! That’s why I had to wear that damn hijab! I was covered in bruises.
Me: You still looked pretty cute shooting that crossbow. You are going back to the service industry, what else?
Hayat: I am looking to marry someone with a decent job, like Mr. Rosenstein, the manager here at McDonald’s. He has just been divorced by his wife. These terrorists I’ve been going with have the worst jobs; janitor, delivery boy. I want someone with prestige, especially in America.
Me: Will your terrorist background get in the way? He is probably Jewish. Will you convert?
Hayat: The mullahs back in Algeria say I have to go “deep cover.” They made me watch every episode of The Americans on Showtime instead of memorizing the Koran.
Me: How did you get here?
Hayat: Serbians. They run whores for Snoop Dogg, the rapper, Osama Bin Laden footed the bill.
Me: He’s alive? I thought so.
Hayat: Of, course. Did you see a body?
Me: Your disguise is impressive. I like the used pantsuit.
Hayat: I try to look like Hillary Clinton when I go on job interviews. Our operatives scour the WASPiest thrift stores.
Me. What if it doesn’t work out with Mr. Rosenstein?
Hayat: I am on Tinder and OkCupid.
Me: Too bad you can’t use those crossbow photos. Guys would like those around here. There are lots of elk and other wild animals in the woods. You could be the new Sarah Palin.
Hayat: She is cool. She had the courage to love a dark skinned American Negro from Alaska when she was in high school.
Me: Are you going to chop my head off after this interview?
Hayat: I will if Mr. Rosenstein tells me to, unless you marry me first.
Me: Can I have other wives?
Hayat: If you can afford them.
Me: What was it like in the Jewish supermarket with the hostages?
Hayat: Officially, I was never there. But, I’ll tell you since you just proposed. It smelled awful, like pickles and cheap cheese. The hostages, they never stopped complaining, Amedy would have held out longer, but the hostages, especially the older women, they drove him crazy. I suppose you want to know about my life with him. Like I said, boring. One vacation to Malaysia where he pretended to be some kind of Koranic scholar. Sure, back in France, I got to be the girl on the arm of the guy who met Sarkozy, but all that went to his head. Those teen boys at the mosque started fawning over him, Amedy couldn’t resist. Every one of the terror guys I got with learned sex from uncles, brothers, cousins — some of them don’t see a girl naked until wedding day.
Me: Other terrorists blow up actual trains full of infidels, isn’t it kind of dorky to go out with a terrorist who bombed a train museum?
Hayat: The girls at the mosque and the hair salon used to give me crap about that all the time. Do you see their bitch faces on CNN, Reuters, Al Jazeera? Funny guys are better in bed. Amedy had no sense of humor.
Me: What do you mean?
Hayat: I mean blowing up the train museum was funny, but Amedy didn’t see it that way. He joined GIA, started his “training”. He lost his sense of humor, started beating the boys he used for sex when he tired of beating me.
Me: Are you saying the humiliation of getting arrested after the train museum bombing led to the demise of your relationship?
Hayat: He would beat them worse if he thought they liked me.
Me: That’s a serious love triangle. When you were being interrogated by French police, did you think you might spend the rest of your life in prison?
Hayat: Never, I was drinking tea, smoking, telling them their informants were terrorists and drug dealers. They ask questions, if you shut up, they are suspicious, if you talk and talk they want to smoke and take a break, especially the French.
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