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[Part II -- Click here for Part I]

Lance unscrewed the cap on the large tub of paste. Spooning out a fat dollop, he immediately fashioned it into a completely convincing diamond.

"Wow," he said, "I can't believe how easy it is to make diamonds out of paste. This is cinchy! Too bad I wasted all that money on this vice-mounted magnifying glass and this set of custom chrome tweezers."

After fashioning several diamonds in each of the most popular cuts (round, square, triangle and uterus), Lance's fingers were covered in the white, sticky mess. He stuck his tongue out and licked the tip of his pinky.

"Mmmm, just like in kindergarden," he thought, remembering fondly his youthful predilection for 'swallowing paste'.

"Now, all's I have to do is sell this junk to that shifty kike Rogen, and I'll have enough capital to bring my other, non-paste items, to market."

He quickly changed into his Hasidic Jew disguise, probably.

Then, because he had spent 7/8 of his life in prison, Lance gently nudged each of the diamonds up his ass, though a brown bag or something would have sufficed. The sharp edges of the diamonds produced a not unpleasant tingle at the base of his spine, not dissimilar to the initial twinges certain opiates produce in the novitiati.

"Oh man," he groaned as walked up the basement stairs (which was really the weirdest part, because in the parallel world he inhabited, basements weren't 'all that cool' a thing to have), "These hardened paste diamonds are shifting around in my rectum like a handful of tiny, pointy ben-wa balls."

Lance's body began to shudder uncontrollably. He woke up. That shifty kike Rogen was shaking him.

Fuck. It had all been a dream, and Lance was still manacled face down to the iron frame bed in Rogen's dreidel-shaped dungeon.

"Wake up, my boy," hissed Rogen, rattling a small yellow envelope in Lance's face. "I have a deposit to make."

Rogen squeezed the heavy-bond envelope open and shook its contents into his sweaty palm, held trembling before Lance's eyes: 7 four-carat, brilliant cut diamonds.

"What's the story, bar mitzvah-head?" said Lance, mustering some false bravado. "You suck off the entire De Beers family?"

"Yes. Quite," returned Rogen, embarrassed that he didn't understand the reference.

They shared a good ironic laugh together, the type of laugh that Gene Hackman enjoys with his arch-enemy in any given film.

Date Written: December 20, 2002
Author: qualcomm
Average Vote: 5

Comments:
02/16/2004 scoop (5): Here's why: (round, square, triangle and uterus), (which was really the weirdest part, because in the parallel world he inhabited, basements weren't 'all that cool' a thing to have), He quickly changed into his Hasidic Jew disguise, probably.
08/30/2004 scoop: If you don't dole out a fiver on this it is clear you are a raving PC lunatic ass hole who is also a hippie and against free thinking and a jerk too and like puppets, as well.
08/30/2004 Mr. Pony: "dole out a fiver"? Is that the sort of "lingo" you kids are using these days?
08/30/2004 scoop: Dude, I heard the Z-Man use it at his last swinging get-to-gether, and I was like, "Z-Man, do you mind if I steal that line?" And the Z-Man was like: "Scoop, my little minion, one of my very favortie fatihful, I wouldn't dare deprive you a guest at my happening such a simple entreaty. My words pour forth from my mouth like wine from a sumptuous far out Greek fountain -- now drink, drink the black sperm of my sayings."
08/30/2004 Mr. Pony: You know the Z-Man? Can you introduce me?
08/30/2004 TheBuyer (5): (no moleste)
08/30/2004 Mr. Pony: This short "is" a five. It should be noted that while the existence of scoop's initial "dole out a fiver" post drew my attention to this work, the post's content and tone almost caused me to ignore it, on principle. Let this be a lesson to all of you.
08/30/2004 Mr. Pony: I seem to have already voted, and voted a five at that, thus inadvertently proving, beyond all shadow of doubt, Summer's insane assertion that all shorts "are" worth a set and nonnegotiable quantity of stars.
08/30/2004 qualcomm: yeah, scoop, don't do me any favors. (asshole(?))
08/30/2004 scoop: Hey F you.