Gentlemen, let the Games begin.

One set of thugs remain, looking down fondly at one cute little sheep. They break into song, an Oldie but Goodie, namely "Ewe Belong To Me". The sheep bleats appealingly, and "Poof", turns, in a cloud of smoke, to Professor Von Welshing, similarly clad, hands tied, on all fours, looking up in horror and disbelief from Hitler to Attila, to Manson, to the garter belt and nylons, to his bound hands, and back again.

"Mother Fuck", he mumbles around the green tennis ball stuffed in his mouth. "What could be worse than being bound, gagged, and helpless, dressed as a submissive sex toy, and left to the tender mercies of Adolph Hitler, Attila the Hun, and Charles Manson in some rice paddy in Indochina.

The Boys riff in unison, "For a Professor, you are an awfully slow learner, Von Welshing." We hear the Beatles singing "I am he, as you are me, as you are he and we are all together. You are the Eggman. I am the Walrus." They turn into sizeable Walruses, and, moving closer to Von Welshing, shout "Koo-Koo-Kah-Choo, Plofessor Runch Meat. Soplize. Soplize." They tear off their faces, and, as Von Weishing had sadly expected, all reveal the grinning, fanged face of Ben Wa, beaming happily in triplicate over the Mekong Delta, where, as the light slowly fades, hordes of berserk, psychotic, long dead, identical conquerors and Charlie Mansons are festively laying waste all around them, performing outrages galore by the flickering light of thousands of flaming huts

Ben Wa¹, dressed as a Mongol Horseman, wipes off his moustache. "So this is what is meant by, how you say, 'painting the town red.' A most felicitous turn of phrase, if I do say so myself, which, of course, I do.

Ben Wa², brown clad, with jackboots and a Swastika armband, replies, 'Heil, Aryan brother of the Steppes. Right on. Do not, however, neglect the parallel concept of, er, 'Doing it up brown.' These Pissant villagers need to learn to 'take it like a man', that is to say, Face Down."

Ben Wa³, in prison blues, appears from both sides. We see, as in a cavern of mirrors, four Ben Was advancing toward four Ben Was advancing toward four Ben Was vanishing. Through a kaleidoscope of Ben Was we see Von Welshing, in garter belt and black mesh stockings, staring bleakly into the distance.

Von Welshing, intrepid investigator of Vampires and the Occult, in high fetishist drag, bondage queen of the Golden Triangle, is feeling, dare I say it, "sheepish". Viewing the universe arrayed like Hindoo idols, into a Mandala of Ben Wa's, he screams "Bahhh!" in the cold, unfeeling Void.

Brahmah, Vishnu, Shiva, and Ben Wa chorus their rebuttal: "Humbug!"