Al-Adin strides into the empty orchestra. Tonight was a good night. He had brought a rolled up carpet, collored blue and gold, like it was supposed to be. The pattern wasn't right, but that's ok. The watcher isn't watching.
Think not the watcher.
He heads up to the stage after some drunk had made a fool of himself and goes over the DJ, who looks at the carpet with a look of mild amusement, and a little concern. Al-Adin asks for his song, and this time, the DJ does have it. (breaking into his house and putting it in his collection had been a wies choice after all. ) Al-Adin smiled to himself as he walked over to the microphone stand. He leaves the microphone in. His lungs are strong enough that he can sing out his song without the microphone getting in his way. After all, he needed his hands.

The music started up, and al-adin began swaying with the rich arabian music. He had dressed up. Purple vest, white pants. All he was missing was a fez.

Oh I come from a land, from a faraway place
Where the caravan camels roam

He waves his arms over the audience in broad sweeping gestures, his hands undulating as they go over the invisible peaks and valleys of the desert. His voice is strong, his accent is perfect.

Where they cut off your ear
If they don't like your face
Is what al-adin sang, even though the lyrics coming out of the speaker spoke of the desert heat. So his hand motions across his face was met with confusion.

It's barbaric, but hey, it's home


When the wind's from the east
And the sun's from the west
And the sand in the glass is right

He moves his hands across the audience again. Some of them are really getting into it. It brings back memories of youth and mysteries, just how far away was disneyland? When can I grow up?

Come on down
Stop on by
Hop a carpet and fly
To another arabiiian oof!

Al-Adin leaps through the air, unfurling his carpet as he finishes the last line of the paragraph. Only he didn't jump high enough, and his graceful landing turns into a hard thunk as the carpet slides out from under him and he smacks his head on the floor. Dazed and confused, the music continues on, while people gasp and shout and call for help. Al-Adin gets up before the song ends, just enough time to finish the song.


A fool off his guard
will fall and fall hard
out there on the dunes

The monkey man, to the laughs and concerned questions of some of the patrons, heads home. He has to work on his routine.