=Love Potion=

At long last, after many failed experiments, I’ve discovered the secret of love. Unfortunately, by now, my heart is like something that has sat inside the mouth of an elderly basset hound, chewed over for years. No matter. Better late than nothing, as my father, on his better days, liked to say with a fart and a sigh.

But before I divulge the secret, let’s make a few things clear. There’s an Ayatollah hidden in everyone’s closet, muttering psalms and issuing fatwahs. I mention this purely in passing, a word to the wise. Make of it what you may. Suffice to say, the law will be of no help to you at all. Nor will poetry or mathematics. Horoscopes and other forms of psychic exercise have nil and even less than nil effect. Use with caution and for entertainment purposes only. Some people think you have to be a juggler. Not true. Although it does help to have been both male and female over the course of your life, or some reasonable facsimile thereof, for reasons that should be obvious to anyone but a blind pig.

And now, with these preliminary remarks out of the way, let me proceed without further ado to the secret of love. The secret consists of this:

Two people face each other, each holding a cup. One believes the cup she holds contains a harmless and rejuvenating beverage and the cup her partner holds is a lethal poison. Her partner, meanwhile, believes the cup he holds is poisoned and the cup she holds is beneficial. She won’t reveal why she wants so badly to exchange cups; nor he why he’s so stubbornly, unmovably opposed to a switch. So they each continue their sweet cajoling and entreaties to no avail, occasionally growing impatient, sometimes even violently angry. To their mutual exasperation, neither budge an inch. Eventually they both die of thirst.

There’s also a flying lion involved and an antidote for the poison but I haven’t entirely figured out these parts just yet.