This is what I dreamt last night

Miguel Hidalgo had just arrived in Damascus, from where he was driven to a small building where a printing and dying firm was located. His job was weird, or so he thought. He had to teach some men how to be Latino in the United States of America.

When he entered the class, he got a surprise. Were it not for the uniforms, he wouldn't have been able to say that his class was not what it looked like. Here were 150 guys who looked more Latin American than he did, he thought. The Arab instructor guffawed.
"Mr. Hidalgo, why are you surprised? The Latin Americans, or the Hispanics, as the Americans refer to you, like the Arabs, are a varied race of people. The plastic surgeons who worked on President Hussein's clones found this a triviality, only some superficial changes. You have to teach these men the language, the customs, the behaviour of the Latin Americans in the United States of America."

A year later, 150 men entered America on various Central and South American passports, all within the space of 15 days, from different points in the southern states, happening to be visiting relatives, working for American companies, or just looking after some business interests. They all had something in common; each of them carried equipment that would be used in assembling crude nuclear devices.

Three months later, as the newly elected Iraqi government was being sworn in, 10 nuclear devices went off in 8 major American cities. Downtown Manhattan was decimated, so was the White House and the Pentagon. The command structure had been devastated; there was widespread paranoia and looting. Unofficial sources put the death toll at an estimated 1.3 million.

In not so far away Havana, two old men were reclining in easy chairs, smoking their cigars.
"I said they should have gone for North Korea first, didn't I?" the older man mused.
"You never do your dirty work yourself, do you?" the younger man with a bushy moustache asked.
The old man just chuckled and shrugged. He raised his glass, "Here's to you, Salvatore Hernandez, and to the grand opening of Havana cigars in Miami next month. I hope there isn't going to be a change of plans."
The younger man raised his as well, "Holocaust or no holocaust, a smoker has to smoke?and a ruler has to rule."

They both laughed heartily.