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William 00000111

Sex 'n' Drugs 'n' Sausage Rolls, or so the Germans would have us believe. Pedagogue Adam and I sat fidgeting in the corner booth of a dark, crowded Ethiopian restraunt filed with abundantly more drinkers than dinners. Sausage rolls not on the menu, we steadily drained pitchers of beer, only to find them regularly refilled - a Sissyphusian delimna, by Zeus! Actually, his name was Mike, but we all called him Sharhabill. We were deep in our cups when a cultural exchange took place.

As I stared into space, the space was replaced, and in the place of space, appeared a face which did grace our booth. I blinked, and lo! And Hi! Two faces!

"Excuse me, but may we?" with a sweeping gesture a face indicated the vacant seats in the booth. We nodded yes even as the faces grew bodies, and the combined results sat. Introductions followed obediently, indicating that our two guests were regularly called Debra and Bonnie (*not their real names, as far as we know). After the pleasantries, we all resumed consuming brewed concoctions of hops, rice, barley, Victoria's Secret, etc.

Attractive as they were, it was several drinks later when conversation began. Two Welsh- raised tourists, born in Mars, Sweden, working as nannies in America, looking for Mr. Right. While I made the kind moves, and Adam played it cool (that suave pseudo-Carrribean prince, he!), the girls grew tired, right after our pitcher of beer was empty. Thank goodness for the Guru.

When Debra volunteered to help Ashmed with filling our beer pitcher, and Bonnie prepared to hypmotize Adam using only the sound of her fingers pinching his lips, well, we went along with it. But the Guru belched, (and I quote), "MEH!"

Bonnie's nails retracted from inside Adam's gumline, and Debra dropped her winecooler at the deafening roar. Several other patrons experienced ruptured ear-drums, and the bouncer vomited green bile. The jukebox even skipped from the Dance Party mix to the 15 last requested tunes!

The photos we took, and the clear hidden-microphone tapings of the girls conversations, eventually lead to a great book deal, and an appearance on Donahue. The only thing anyone found confusing, during the entire 18-month publicity ordeal, was our mantra to the media inquisitionares,

"Meh!"