Mehranullah

Many moons ago in the city of Damascus there was born a boy. This boy was the son of the wealthy royals of the city and they named him Darius Benjamin. Such an aristocratic title however, was unsuitable for a small boy, especially one as mischevious as he, forever getting into trouble and being scolded endlessly. They decided to name him after the most sought after motorcar in the kingdom, the Suzuki Mehran. Although Mehran was a born social butterfly (that sounds poncy, lets say he was a born social leopard) he grew up in isolation to hide the fact that he often suffered from oral herpes. Such a disease of the body was viewed at the time in Damascus to be related to a concurrent disease of the mind. As he grew older, Mehran found his existence to be a pitiful and lonely one, without friends or lovers, isolated from all but his immediate family: his sister, brother and mother. His father was in a distant land, having been sent there to care for the many trade centres they had in that part of the world. His mother loved Mehran dearly and was forever supportive of him yet was immensely saddened by the lack of fullfillment in his life, knowing full well her son's capacity for success if only he could be let out into the world. One night, after much consultation (it is the Bahai way) Mehran and his mother plotted and planned a scheme for his escape from the dreary days and nights that constituted his existence. In the dead of night, Mehran was to be placed upon a camel laden with provisions to last him a mere 4.6 hours and send into the unforgiving Sonoran desert to seek his fortune. Interestingly enough, the outer wall of the fortress castle in which they lived was a transportation portal that connected to the Sonoran desert. As he set out on his travels that night, a strong wind picked up and the locusts that had been plaguing their city for decades left the kingdom, following Mehran into the desert to their death.It took Mehran 40 days and 76 nights to reach his destination, but when he arrived, his father was there to greet him. After executing an african chant in celebration of his presence, his father motioned for him to follow him into a small hut made of palms, ferns and nettles (for protection from the noeyedeer) where the feast was laid out. Mehran was happy then. Many days passed and Mehran began to feel restless. He had tired of constant feasting and his harem of beauties and felt the need to continue his journey of self discovery. He mapped a route to the closest witch's treehouse and walked there, careful to weave between the many land mines that peppered the land. His father offered to make him head of their many business ventures despite the horrible deformities surrounding his lips but Mehran knew this could not be. He was to find his purpose in life and was determined to visit the witch to learn of his talents.

Beti - Cat killer extraordinare

Once upon a time there was a boy by the name of Shawn. Forthwith is an account of the adventures of our unlikely hero, his challenges (the day his converse wore out) and his final victory. The avid reader may think, upon perusing the following document, that the writer has included fictitious events in her account and the reader would be somewhat correct in assuming this, as some events have been modified to allow for privacy issues, copyright laws and to ensure Mr Maghami of eBay enterprises does not follow up on his sepoena. Where possible, small degrees of toilet humour have been added to accustom the reader to the lifestyle of Mr Sabeti and to understand his subsequent choices.

That being said, let us delve into the early life of Shawn and his association with the Sabeti clan.
Shmeh havent written this yet.

And now to the present situation or phenonmenon, if you will, that is Sharon.

Shawn liked to eat Japanese peanut crackers by the dozen and often amused himself by regurgitating small portions at a later time, rolling them into small balls with cornflour, baking them at 160 degrees for 40 minutes until they were rock hard, letting them cool and then heading over to the local bird sanctuary and letting them fly at the ducks waddling aimlessly around. Ducks which would never waddle again, nor would they ever feel the sweet sensation of water washing past their webbed phalanges. Reader, please note that the venue, victim and manner of crime have been changed to protect the identity of a certain feline whose very existence may be at risk from this young man and his juvenile delinquent posse.

Sam Sam the Salsa Man

Once upon a time, in a land far away there was a noble king by the name of Augustus Gloop (plagerism oh yeah). He was a good and kindly king, who ruled over his domain with a firm yet just hand. The people of the land loved their king dearly and were loyal to him, but an almost negligible number were growing weary of the lack of action in their lives due to the crime rate being at an all time low. These few decided to form an underground movement called De la Violemente. An association built on the premise that a violent nature makes for a more interesting existence, these fools made it their business to find the weak and needy in the kingdom and make their lives a living hell. This they acheived by following them home and pouncing on them in their sleep, torturing the poor souls by tying them up, covering their heads with a rubber bag, inserting a tube connected to a special one off pair of pants and farting until the individual either passed out or died from the vile fumes. If this does not sound too bad, please take note that the entire proceedings were prepared for by digesting 4 peices of hot and spicy chicken from KFC, 1 Wendy's dog'n'shake, 2 microwaveable Dim Sim from McCain's, 2 Mrs Mac's party pies and 3 bowls of fesenjoon over the course of the day, all washed down with a juice of asparagus. Yummy. The worst part of their plan of course was Billy. While they carried out their actions, Billy played moonriver on the Viola, two octaves too high. A sick pun on both their group name and the song name, Billy would finish by mooning the poor soul. Thinks that's funny? Billy was morbidly obese. Not so funny now huh? Anyway, long story short, three years down the track the people were plagued by this group, and finally the underground movement came out in the open and made themselves known. They wanted power to rule the land, and they wanted it now.

It is now time to introduce to the reader our hero. In the dead of night, he dances to the rescue. They call him Salsa Sam.

Yasmin - Rose of the Gold Coast

Once upon a time long long ago, there was a bonny lass of the Hedayaty clan.
Yasmin they called her, after the most beautiful flower they could find (the lotus
did not bloom in that part of the world, too many car accidents and popcorn).

Yasmin grew to be good and beautiful, and all the people of the country loved her.
One day she grew tired of the many suitors around her constantly laughing at her
wittyness and gazing intensely into her eyes. She heard of the indigenous population
of Australia who did not look directly into the opposite gender's cheshm as it was
considered inappropriate. She thought to herself, ah yes that is the place for me,
a land downunder, when the women glow and the men chunder.
So she begged and pleaded with her parentals to send her there. Her parentals were a little
hesitationful so they did a little of their own research. They found for their beloved offspring a
place called the Gold Coast. Sweet Faizeh stated that a coast of gold could not possibly
be a horrendous place to live and that their delightful young one would most likely love it there,
cherish the environment and thrive within it. She would even perhaps find a husbandish match
for herself.
Ahh yes little did our unsuspecting parentals know what was to come.
Stay tuned for a tale of morbid horror, a story of moral deprivation, a narrative of really really
ridiculously good looking people, a convoluted plot of fear, a dastan of one bloody hot summer
and one incredibly unimpressed girl.

Yasmin touched down in coolangatta on the eve of what was to be the gloomiest day queensland had ever seen. Despite the water shortage that had plagued the state for just under a decade, the drought was almost broken that day due to the torrential downpour of rain the like of which even Manny had never seen. Manny, short for Manucher, was the oldest person on the coast, lets just say he lived in the moment -said moment being 1917- and thought himself to still be a handsome young buck looking for a dokhtar irooni to ask his mum to khastegar. Unfortunately, his mother had passed away several decades before the drought struck, and neglected to tell him that perhaps his time for being a handsome young buck had expired long ago, that he should leave the neon lights and skimpily clad girls of surfers well alone. With the heat stroke that came along with the water shortage he eventually became delirious and had scattered visions throughout his lonely days of Khatereh, his childhood sweetheart whom he had attended school with back in Iran (well he attended school, she wasnt allowed to do anything but bring him and the other boys khiar torshi and then sidle inconspicuously into a dark rank corner and listen and learn before she was shooed away).But back to the point, Manny knew the weather and he hadnt seen this much bloody rain ever alright?
Now back to our protagonist.