You quickly turn around and leave before they see you; afterward, you wander around for a bit, your mind a whirlwind of confusion, before you find yourself back at Carson's house.
You sit at his desk for awhile and think about doing his homework for him and giving him bad grades, when you notice a book he has propped open. You casually pick it up and see it is a copy of the "Arabian Nights." Carson has opened it to a particular page, and you start to read:
The Story of the Rich Man in Rags
To the house of a powerful and wealthy merchant an old rag-picker was summoned, bringing his wagon of cast-off clothes, that the merchant might look over them in the cool of his own courtyard. This he did, in the company of his chief servant, speaking freely and laughing the whole time. But the old rag-picker, who was blind, only stood by and said nothing, adding the impression of deafness and dumbness to his infirmities.
Said the merchant, Goods from Africa and Asia have I seen pass through my warehouses, but never before did I suspect rags could come in such an abundance of styles—There are only so many ways to make a tunic, replied his servant, but there are many ways to tear one—True words, I now see, said the merchant; how wonderfully adorned our friend's wardrobe looks now that my eyes are open; how shall we find what we seek?—We shall find what is close enough to his, and mend the difference, rejoined his servant—What? We are not tailors!—My lord shall not be a tailor but the very opposite—Curb thy wit, laughed his master; open thy eyes instead; what, ho! Hast thou found a thing?—Verily, the very thing, said the chief servant; oft have I seen our friend in a robe this very color, and likewise ill-used—Indeed, laughed the merchant, but the odor is not displeasing enough; rag-picker, thou hast laundered thy wares before coming.
The rag-picker stirred at this, saying, I am thy servant. What wouldst thou have of me?
Said the merchant, I would have rags, a cloak, hat and tunic like those of a wretched carpenter I see every day in the market, though thou would not know him to see him.—Indeed I would not, said the rag-picker, and I fear you mock me and my wares; rags are rags, even to one such as me—But not to me, said the merchant, for my rags must be as much alike to this carpenter's as can be, lest my business miscarry.—Thy business is not my business, said the rag-picker, who would listen no more, but the merchant was free in his talk, saying, 'Twill be quite the jest at his expense, and I fear not to share it with thee. I covet his wife, and would lie with her by making pretense of being him.
What is this thou speakest, cried the rag-picker. This is not a jest!—But it is! said the merchant, laughing the more, and saying, Upon them both it shall be a wonderful jest! His wife is a comely creature, and I desired her from afar, but she is obstinate, and when I declared myself to her she would not heed my sweet words, but cleaves the more tightly to her penurious husband. So I will call him away on business, and when it is dark go to his house in rags very like his and be with her until morning. For they are too poor for candles, and she shall not see it is not him.
With such wickedness let no man consort! cried the rag-picker, and in great indignation departed with his wagon.
And the merchant was dumbfounded, and then turned in anger on his chief servant, for it had been the servant's suggestion to seek out the rag-picker and take him into confidence. Have mercy! cried the servant; for all I have done hast been and will be to thy even greater profit!—Fie! cried the merchant, saying, I am shamed by a vendor of rags!—Not so, said the servant, for he will help thee greatly, now that my master sees he must not be approached with a light heart, as I knew my master would.—What! exclaimed the merchant. Am I to abase myself to a man little better than a beggar?—No indeed, my lord, said the servant. But if I had told his story first thou wouldst not have seen how he must be cradled by thee. Now I will tell his story, which I have heard from one other who knows it but is now dead, and when I have told it thee, thou will gladly take up my plan, which will win thee far more than a single night with the woman you covet.—Come then, said the merchant more softly. If this tale have merit great reward shalt thou have from me.
And so the merchant's chief servant proceeded to tell him—
* * * * *
Just then, Carson's cell phone rings: you see that it is Carson himself, calling from your own phone. When you answer, he asks if you're ready to swap back with him.
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