“Iraq Promises to Help U.N. Hunt for Its Own Weapons” - Reuters.

INT. SADDAM’S PLACE - EVENING

[Hans Blix comes up the walkway carrying a nicely-wrapped bottle of wine. He stops at the door, smooths his hair, and rings the bell. Dogs bark. Moments later, Saddam Hussein, wearing a housedress and a kerchief tied sensibly to his head, opens the door.]

SADDAM: I’m coming, I’m coming. Down, boys, down! Hello?

BLIX: Hello, I’m Hans Blix, Chief Weapons In-

SADDAM: Oooh - Mr. Blix! We’ve been expecting you, we have. Come in, come in!

[Blix steps in, squeezing past two enormous,slavering black dogs. One of them pokes his nose into Blix’ crotch, the other grabs playfully at his coattails and growls.]

SADDAM: Come on, come on - you don’t want to let loose the dogs.

BLIX: Are these, by chance, the dogs of war?

SADDAM: Well, yes, I suppose. But they’re nice doggies. This one’s “Ali Muhammed Massaieouief,” and this one’s “Scraps.” Down, boys! Down! Now, what can I do for you, Mr. Blix? Are you from the cable company?

BLIX: Well, as we stated earlier, you were going to help me seek out your weapons of mass destruction…

SADDAM: Oh yes, yes, right. Forget my own head next! What a day I’m having. Of course, weapons. Come on in… Pardon the mess, I had to fire the maid. You know how it is…. sanctions. Tea?

BLIX: No, thank you.

[Blix looks around. The house has a truly staggering amount of clutter. In one glance he sees: Glass paperweights, packing crates, stacks of books, a bicycle, reams of paper, envelopes, lanterns, military uniforms, boxes of Cap’n Crunch cereal, missile casings, chew toys, old library books, vats of boiling liquids, an overstuffed magazine rack, baseball cards, and etc. ]

SADDAM: What a nice shirt, Mr. Blix!

BLIX: Thank you. Now-

SADDAM: Tea?

BLIX: No, thank you. I believe you were going to help me find some old weapons. Perhaps some anthrax?

SADDAM: Who’s she? Oh, you mean of the Baghdad Thraxes?

BLIX: No, I mean the deadly plague.

SADDAM: Oh, that! Silly me - my mind’s goin’. What you must THINK of me. Right. Sorry. Let’s see: Anthrax…

[Saddam begins rifling through a huge pile of socks, rags, and old T-shirts.]

SADDAM (cont’d): A body could catch the plague just sorting through this old stuff. Let’s see - long-johns, mittens, socks… no, no anthrax here. What’s she look like again?

BLIX: Look, don’t mind that - tell me about these.

[Blix moves an air hockey table, revealing several shiny missiles.]

SADDAM: That? Oh, that’s nothing. Those are just some old projectiles, that’s all. Full of “vex” or something.

BLIX: Vex? VX, you mean?

SADDAM: That’s the one. A birthday present from my cousin. Can’t imagine what I’d do with all the stuff…

BLIX (sputtering): But, but… that’s one of the forbidden substances… VX gas… it’s… a massively dangerous chemical weapon…

SADDAM: Is it? Oh, aren’t I a dunderhead! Imagine! Me keeping weapons of mass destruction right here in my own living room! Well, knock me over with a feather! Oh, Mr. Blix, what you must think of me…

BLIX: No, no, it’s fine. We’ll just tag it and remove it.

SADDAM: You’re a kind man, you are, and no mistake. What did you want in your tea?

BLIX: I didn’t want tea.

SADDAM: Right. Well, I’m embarrassed, and that’s a fact. That’s why I’m glad you’re here. Why, I can’t find anything around here… For instance, I had this nuclear program. Spent a pretty penny on that, let me tell you, and now I couldn’t tell you for the life of me where it’s gone. Dogs might’ve buried it in the yard for all I know. And the small-pox? Over by that crate of tomato soup, last I saw, but I haven’t seen it since we painted the living room…. Oh, it’s enough to drive you mad…

[Overwrought, he sits down on a barrel marked “Weapons Grade Plutonium.”]

etc…