Pakistani President Musharraf today announced the findings of his investigation into the death of opposition leader Benazir Bhutto at an election rally in Rawalpindi on December 27. Wearing his “What, Me Worry?” t-shirt and novelty glasses with the eyes that dangle on the end of springs, Pakistan’s General of the Army, President-for-Life and Keeper-of-the-Supply-Cabinet-Key gave the following statement to reporters:

“It is with great sadness that I announce the findings of our inquiry into the (giggling) untimely death of Ms. Bhutto last month. After reviewing all the forensic evidence and interviews with nearly two whole witnesses, we believe Ms. Bhutto died not from the explosion that killed twenty other people around her, or hitting her head on the roof of her motorcade. No, Benazir Bhutto succumbed to boredom.”

After several moments of open-mouthed disbelief, reporters gathered themselves to question the President about his findings. “Sir, how is this even possible? Are you saying the suicide bomber had nothing to do with the Bhutto’s death?”

“To be sure, it is an unfortunate coincidence,” Musharraf replied. “It is entirely possible that, had she not died of ennui, Ms. Bhutto would soon have been ripped to shreds by the cowardly explosion that I can assure you I had nothing…NOTHING to do with. However, it is beyond a shadow of a doubt that she had already been dead for several minutes before the explosion. The only reason she was even seen standing up in her car was because she had been propped up by supporters who wanted to make it look as though she were still alive. Much like that hilarious movie “Weekend at Bernies,” only, you know, with a tragic bombing at the end.”

“Mr. President, why would anyone do such a ridiculous thing?”

“To continue their insidious plot against me!” Musharraf said in an eerie German accent. “Bhutto’s followers knew without her they would be powerless. They planned to keep up this charade as long as necessary, like those guys in New York who took their dead friend to the bank in a wheelbarrow so they could cash his check. Only, you know, in this case a delicate house of international diplomatic cards that could plunge the world into a terrorist nightmare is at stake instead of some bums looking to score beer money.”

“But sir, boredom?”

“Indeed. And here is the proof!” With a flourish, President Musharraf pulled a piece of paper from his sleeve like a magician. “Here, in her own handwriting, is Ms. Bhutto’s final note, written just before she died. ‘Dear Everyone: I am so totally bored. This whole thing about returning from exile to bring a hope of Democracy back to my beloved homeland and remove this tyrant from power is actually kind of dull. I’m feeling rather blase about it, like I might die. In fact, Musharraf is rather awesome. You should let him do whatever he wants.’ Signed, “Bubbles.”

“Bubbles?”

“Yes, Bubbles.”

“Sir, what about the blood that was washed from the scene before investigators could arrive? Is that illegal breach of criminal protocol going to be addressed? Will anyone be punished?”

“The blood had to be removed immediately. The government had recently received word that a swarm of, um, blood…liking…mutant-things was near by. If the blood had been allowed to remain, everyone there would have risked being attacked by a pack of space-trolls that would have devoured their faces with giant teeth that grow out of their foreheads.”

“Trolls? I thought you said mutants.”

“Mutant trolls, that is correct.”

Before any more questions could be asked, President Musharraf disappeared in a puff of smoke.