He finally slid off his jacket and began

"Time me!" he said as he got out the picks for his own chasity belt. As he struggled on the bed, I played a game of patience solitaire. I heard a rap on the motel door. My husband!

He came in, wearing a long robe and the headgear worn by Arabs. At first he didn't see me cos I was crouching behind the settee. He took off his robe and he too wore a chastity be

ast. It was a Viper curled around his loins, enough to fend off all but the kinkiest paramours. Emboldened by my snake-charming experience, I stepped out from behind the settee

and plopped straight into the snake-charmer's loins to give him an erotic lapdance. The viper slid its smooth, slippery body around my hips as I performed a striptease. It was more

than the audience had hoped for and sales of exorbitantly priced champagne skyrocketed. The crowd grew larger as the snake charming-turned-striptease grew more lewd. When two

of the audience members felt that their "snakes" weren't being adequately "charmed," they started throwing cactii. Abu was on the receiving end of impromptu neck acupuncture, which

he would normally recommend, but this was verging on an angry mob. "Please do not do that," Abu begged, fleeing from the flying, desert-grown pin cushions. His snakes started to

charm the pants off Homer. Abu then did the Indian Rope trick and climbed to roof. The angry mob below looted Abu's shop starting with the

slurpee machine, and ending with the paper towels. It always ended with the paper towels.