Ioci terribiles

Had a late lunch with an old friend. He's the most secular Muslim (does such a phrase exist?) I know. He drinks; he swears; he...  I call him, "My friendly infidel." We give each other grief all the time. The repartee is fast-paced, vicious, and refreshing.


Scene I   Holland Village Starbucks

[RASHID leans comfortably back in an overstuffed chair, sipping his hippie, organic, non-fat, low carbon footprint, sustainable trade, Che Guevara approved, overpriced, latté — freshly brewed from coffee beans tenderly squeezed between the thighs of young Russian virgins (paid a living wage, of course).]

[Enter BEN, with scrapes and gashes on his right leg.]

RASHID:  Holy crap! What happened to you? Did you fall off your bike or something?

BEN:  No, I was attacked by a Muslim terrorist.

RASHID:  ...

[Nearby patrons glare at the duo.]

[Exeunt]
                                                                -------

Scene II   Holland Village Food Court

RASHID:  Auntie, two wanton mee. Both want chilli.

HAWKER:  Hah? Wanton mee? You cannot eat pork, you know!

RASHID:  Shhh! The pig doesn't know.


I love this guy  :-D


Postscript
Yes, yes, I did crash.