Mario continues chanting to his thong with a look of puzzlement on his face. "Isn't it supposed to rise up flaming or something?" , he mutters. The Bailey's seems to have crossed up childhood memories of Indian fakirs taming cobras with Buddhists chanting Om and setting themselves on fire, all retained haphazardly from a fourth grade perusal of the American Child's Encyclopdia of the World Book Omibus set, which he got by saiving box-tops from Wheaties which he paid for by delivering Grit door-to-door which was really exhausting and uphill both ways....

He slumps, drained by a flood of memory and the efforts of basting that Auroch, and swoons into the nearest davenport and the bliss of temproary unconsciousness...