I get diarrhea more often than the average Muslim.

Justin vomited in his mouth a little as he gazed upon a sea of black outfits and sidelocks. They looked like they were ready for a heavy metal concert, a funeral, or the hell that is a Brit Milah. Fuck, they looked ridiculous.

Stuey was in heaven, but he wished that he were in hell.

Justin reached past a pot of matzoh soup for some brisket. The brisket was drier than Rachel's pussy. At least there was pomegranate juice to wash it down. Fuck, he hated this food.

A flat screen television lowered into view. It showed an animated Islamic documentary that focused mostly on the importance of wearing the proper attire. The final prophet was quoted often, yet absent from the feature.“If this Mohammed guy is so great, why wouldn’t they put him in the cartoon?” Kira wondered.