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Story No. 37697
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A thronging marketplace, somewhere East of Damascus. White-robed Arabic merchants selling different kinds of fruit jello, thick custard, and madeira-soaked sponge cake. But this was more than a trifle bazaar,
here you can buy camels (one hump or two?); perfume that will transport you back to your grandmother's kitchen; writing paper guaranteed to steal your lover's heart; potions which guarantee that great hairy arses shall be visited upon your enemies. All
their hair turns orange and the begin to stutter. Then you make them say "She sell sea shells by the seashore" as they
sold seashells for
rather less than the anticipated amount due to the unexpected glut of
Korean immigrants.
