John A Douglas posted:

 Say you have 10 or twenty people over, and it's about eleven
o'clock, and everybody's pretty wasted, they force big contracts
on each other. We're talking BIG change. Good, clean business cards.

 Custom logos.

 The digitally enhanced Benny Goodman Sextet fades into Sketches
of Spain. Let's zoom in.

 ``This game will be more addictive than Mindsweeper. Here's an
example:
        ``Job had seventy camels, one hundred and twenty-six goats,
        and nine daughters. Camels were worth 97 shekels, goats 53
        shekels, and daughters 11. Job made a deal and gained 1111
        shekels. How many of each did he sell?''

 ``Huh?''

 At this moment, the door opened, and in shambled probably the most
unsavory character any of them had ever encountered. His oversize hat
seemed about to topple from his liquid brow; his pigtail reeked of
untold unguents. He reached into his voluminous saddlebag and produced
a champagne glass, and, setting it gently on the bar, said, ``Your
best, please.''

 While the bartender's back was turned, the stranger surveyed the
crowd in the richly framed mirror. The tourists were gawking at
him. The regulars were leaning back, drinking beer or whisky, or
hunched over, playing cards. A statuesque blond was descending
the spiral staircase, dressed in a red low-cut gown. A brown-green
lizard peered sleepily out from under the flap of the unwieldy
saddlebag, awakened by a familiar popping sound.

 A faint mist rose from the bottle placed on the bar. As he savored
the effervescence in his nostrils, he reflected on the circum-
stances of his arrival in paradise. He and his last remaining donkey had
spent the night in the lee of the most permanent-looking dune
they could find, only to be aroused from a chilly sleep by a scorching
sun, thoroughly lost. They wandered aimlessly fo a few moments, until
the donkey's nostrils twitched and it sneezed violently, throwing
its rider into the scalding sand. The donkey then set off
resolutely in an incomprehensible direction, with human in chase,
yelling, ``Stop, you ass!'' They both stopped at the crest of the
third dune, arrested by the sight of the most voluptuous palace
ever imagined.

 The bottle was now empty, and his reverie was overlaid with the
appearance of the hostess, who kept a respectful distance. ``Hi
Mary,'' he croaked, ``I need a room.'' Her eyes widened slightly
as she said, ``El Dupree, how come you don't come by so often
anymore.'' ``I drop by every time I'm through these parts. With
a shower.'' Her eyes widened further. ``And a stall for my donkey,''
he concluded. His leathery face cracked into an impish smile as
the lizard, now crimson to match her dress, lapped at the spillage
from the second bottle.

 ``Well, I can fix up a stall for the two of you. But you have to
leave your boots on. Last time you scared the horse,'' she said
with an accusatory grin. He rummaged in his gargantuan pack and
came up with an average-size gold nugget. ``Will this do the trick?''

 ``The only shower is in my room, as you damn well know, but I
want you out of there before six, lest the other tenants start
to gossip.''

 Later, nestled in the warm, fragrant hay next to his last donkey,
he didn't know whether to bless it or kick it.