Al-Baqara’s tent draws your attention.

As you ponder the kneeling slaves you hear a lowing sound. You turn curiously to see a large tent named Al-Baqara‘s. Intrigued you approach the tent and draw back the flaps to enter it’s dimly lit interior.

Within you see many stalls, many containing pretty cowgirls.

“Hello master, I am Al-Baqara, your humble servant,” a sycophantic salesman says, voice and manner oily and mildly repugnant. He wrings his fat hands as he shuffles obsequiously in his kaftan. “My I interest your magnanimous self in our lowly wares,” he motions to the stalls.

“What are you offering precisely?” You ask.

“Er… perhaps sir would like…” he approaches conspiratorially and you wince at his unwashed pungency. “… to try out one of our cowgirls… we have a swapping machine…”