Women of Tehran liberated by fiery oil rain and carcinogenic smoke as their city burns

In the greatest liberation since the US bombed a girls’ school, and bombed it again when rescuers arrived, the Epstein axis has bestowed the ultimate liberation on the women of Tehran.

On Saturday night, the only democracy in the Middle East with the right to own WMDs launched the largest chemical attack in history when it destroyed Tehran’s oil facilities.

The same geniuses who made Ayatollah Khamenei 30 years younger said they are confident there will be no repercussions for their heroism as huge power cuts struck Tel Aviv. Obviously, this made no sense because Trump said he had destroyed Iran’s missile capabilities…

Anyways, the world has unfortunately lost contact with Tel Aviv, but I was on the ground in Tehran to bring you first-hand reports and let me tell you, I had the time of my life! The scenes were jubilant as Israeli missiles destroyed Iran’s largest oil refinery, sending fire and smoke into the skies like Mount Doom had erupted.

Women tore off their hijabs, coughing “At last we’re free!” while choking on carcinogenic smoke—and the bravest ones removed all of their clothes to own the patriarchy. As the first reporter on the ground, I joined in the nudity faster than you can say “public indecency!” But other women had a change of heart and grabbed their hijabs for “safety reasons” as flaming rain drops blistered their skin. Fucking wimps.

The sky darkened like warm nuclear winter as trees smouldered and plants withered. Nitric acid melted the feathers of birds that fell to the ground, flapping until they became still. Soon the entire place was as lifeless as Dubai on a regular day, and yet it was… spectacular. Flames leapt from storm drains like something out of a heavy metal music video, or perhaps Hell. I guess you could say Tehran resembled Hell as blistered She-Hulks reclaimed their city, crushing any oppressor in their path.

At one point, I saw a member of the Morality Police, or possibly just a regular guy, given he was escorting his children to the car. Either way, I beat him to death with a rock like a Mossad agent infiltrating a protest, then I leaned into his corpse and whispered: “Up yours, patriarchy!” His daughters thanked me and tore off the hijabs they weren’t wearing.

Together, we paraded proudly through the streets as, one by one, the weak succumbed to fire and brimstone. “At least I died free”, one girl whimpered. Survivors breathed in so many hydrocarbons that the after-effects will make Gulf War Syndrome seem like a mild cough, but I told the women they’ll be fine because, unlike Americans, they have healthcare. However, they pointed out that Israel has bombed all of their hospitals (Zionists can be naughty like that).

The lung cancer risk was getting too high, even for a warrior like me, so I fled Iran before the nukes arrived, only to discover that privileged foreigners have been criticising Israel for this liberation. Their complaints hurt the feelings of Zionist university students everywhere, which is a clear crime against humanity, but I would expect nothing less from these woman haters.

All that matters is that the surviving women of Tehran are free, despite their drastically diminished life expectancy.

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