The scene: an Al Qaeda cell meeting somewhere in London about two months ago. A group of fifty-or-so Arabs are gathered in a small meeting space. The purpose of the occasion is the choosing of four volunteers to be blasted into infamy, smithereens and, presumably, eternal paradise as the historically first suicide bombers on western soil. The leader of the group, Ahmad, signals for quiet, announces the purpose of the gathering, and then asks:
AHMAD: Any volunteers?
A CHORUS OF CROWD VOICES (shouting): Me...me....me....me....
Ahmad singles four out of the group to carry out the bombings.
ALL: Huzzahs of approval and congratulations.
Suddenly, a voice rises above the rest.
OMAR (angry): That's not fair.
AHMAD: What do you mean?
OMAR: You never choose me.
AHMAD: Must I spell it out to you, Omar. You are far too beautiful to be a suicide bomber.
OMAR: I had no idea you cared. (beat) By the way, is that a gun in your burnoose or are you just glad to see me?
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