“So you have come to see Acapla, the Lama of Amall Monestary,” said Dilemac the Tibetan monk. “He has spent the last 50 years of his life in intense contemplation and concentration. His meditations are so intense that he can heat or cool parts of his body at will.”

“Yes, we know,” said Sandy, holding Chris’s hand tightly. “That’s why we’ve come to commune with him.”

“Ascend with me to his mountaintop, pilgrims, and speak,” said Dilemac, leading the Canadian tourists up to the summit where Lama Acapla sat cross-legged.

“O great lama, we beseech thee to share thy wisdom with us,” Sandy said, bowing elaborately while babbling excitedly.

The lama regarded the pilgrims with deeply-creased features and eyes both rheumy and clear. “Say it, do not spray it.”

Shocked, the Canadians looked to Dilemac.

“Alas, that is the way of things,” he said. “50 years of meditation means that the lama is great for parlor tricks but not much for conversation.”

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