На първите две изисквания, тази отговаря напълно
Curtain is raised.
A dingy room. Light bulb flickering in the middle of the day. Bottles and a heap of clothes strewn over the small hallway. Out of the heap juts out a chunk. The chunk snores and mumbles something. The heap of clothes is silent for the nonce, if we don't count the slow trickle of saliva across the collar, and the patter of tiny feet of undisclosed origin under what, for nominal convenience, we'll call a "shirt", and "trousers". The heap and the chunk share the name Chuck. Chuck is drunk and stoned and sleeping.
A knock on the door. A few words, their meaning utterly obliterated under the weight of heavy Indian accent. Another rap on the door. Chuck wakes up.
- Blarghhghg.....- Chuck greets the new day. Stands up, slips, falls down. Stands up again and manages to steady himself against the door.
There comes the voice again.
- Sur?...Sur...?!!Su...rrr?
Chuck, incredulous.
- What the bloody Hell?... Who's that?
Another stream of thick Indian accent slips through the cracks in the doorframe and hits Chuck on the head. Chuck makes scary sounds. Voice on the other side hesitates.
- Sur?...It..Tsme...Itsme? Um...
-Me?!? It's me?!?
For a time, Chuck contemplates the possibility of his being on both sides of the door at once.....rejects it.
- You're not Me! I'm right here!
- Nnoo...Sur....It's me, Rashid...My name is Rashid....
Chuck turns around. Looks in the mirror. Contemplates.
-.....Chuck? Yes! Chuck! You bloody bastard! You're not Me, and I am no bloody Rashid! I'm Chuck!
- Um...
Hesitation on the other side. Shuffle of feet. Deep intake of breath.
- Sur, my name is Rashid, and I am not you and I am seilling....
- You're sailing!?!? Man, you must be drunk or stoned, or something....Wait...-Chuck looks at filthy puddle at his feet.- Oh, my God! 'Tis true! The Deluge! The Second Coming! Take me in your boat, oh kindly Stranger with a ridiculous accent!!! Take me...
Chuck slips, falls down,bangs head against the wall.
- Surr! SURR! Arrre you okay?!
Frantic rapping on the door. Chuck makes more scary sounds. Looks round for deadly weapon. Grabs a slipper. There is a sandwich in the slipper.
- Who is it? WHO IS IT?!!?
Deep intake of breath. Deeper than the last time. Much deeper.
- I AM SELLING MAGAZINE SUBSCRIPTIONS AT A REDUCED RATE TO PAY FOR MY EDUCAT.....
- No! NO! I buy nothing, you bloody Evangelist Muslim Indians!!!! You take your turban and your cows and damned Kasmasmuptra and shove it up your a** and get the bloody Hell outta here!!!
Chuck clutches deadly slipper. Slips again.
- Bloody Deluge!!! Why don't you drown me and get it over with?!?
Lurches against the door, and it gives way and breaks open, hanging on one hinge. Before him- a small Indian boy, turban, and a cow. The boy levitates some six feet in the air. Cow mooes.
- Moooo...
Boy looks slightly surprised at the sight of Chuck, clutching a slipper with a sandwich in it, his eyes dripping blood, his feet dripping messy Deluge.
Chuck goggles at the sight of Boy, probably slightly surpirised as well.
- Sur.... I am selling magazine subscriptions at a reduced rate to pay for my education at Hogwarts...
Chuck slowly closes door. Sort of closes it.
- My God....- drops Slipper - My god...- takes a bite at Sandwich. Retreats into the bedroom. Patter of tiny feet inside his clothes. A blond head looks up at Chuck, with a pair of blue eyes, as clear and innocent as a mountain lake.
- What was all that about??? A cockroach can't sleep! Who was that guy?
Chuck looks at cockroach with puzzled expression.
- Don't know, Rodney...Don't know....weirdos...Sandwich?
Curtain falls. Public laughs. Hopefully.
Дебилийка, кефи ме езикът. Само на места си падал в клопките, описани в оня сайт, който ми даде... Или не си де, знам ли 
ма ся нямам нерви да го чета пак и да търся конкретни бъгове, ше трябва да ме изчакаш да сеп одредят звездите в правилна конфигурация и изобщо...
