Vous etes un sot en trois lettres, mon fils.
- Moliere
Tartuffe

Scene Two: It is nightime and the image of the city's skyline against a background of darkness is highlighted by the glitter of neon. The city is alive, in the mood for partying, in the season for party-time, but the gathering in the mainstreet has something else in mind. In this building, 50 storeys up, is their celebrity of the moment, the reason for their stake-out. Up above Freude continues to walk the parapet from end to end, unmindful of the ruckus below that he himself unmindfully caused. Freude, bless our ballet, has entertained everyone except his soul, all these hours strutting the eaves of the building in different steps and hullaballets: as toy soldier, as mouse, as Arabian dancer, as Russian dancer, and perhaps only George Ballanchine can tell us if at any given moment he will snap into a sugar plum fairy-walk or tiptoe for the long-awaited pas de deux. (This kid could at times be nuts, but please, everyone listen to me, he is no nutcracker!)

Then he stops, right at the middle of the balustrade, and looks up at the black sky to ruminate on the slowly forming figure somehow catching his attention. The figure, foooom!, is now fullform, let us not doubt the godly existence of this beauty, chinky eyes, long hair, prominent cheekbones, winsome smile and all, standing with Freude at the parapet.

beauty: Freude, you may not know me by face but I am in your links. My name is Jet, the Goddess of Counsel, and I want you to come with me (**hugs-hugs**). Good thing you invoke for my presence via a chant instead of calling my cellphone (**chuckles-chuckles**) because I don't really answer my cellphone when I'm having a goodtime. Go ask cbs (**winks-winks**).
Freude: Mene iuvabis?
Jet: I will help you, Freude, but only if you help our readers understand whatever the food you are talking about. This is the age of the EB, Freude, so stop using the language of the BC. Latin is dead Freude, Latin is dead. Only myfafa speaks this language, Freude, and you know what? He does not even come here!!!
Freude: Pessime!
Jet: Yes, Freudem, it is terrible but true. Come with me now, to the EB, it is already late.
Freude: Relinquemini!
Jet: I don't care, Freude, but if you don't stop talking dead, I will be forced to give you a dose of your own medicine. My dad's an attorney and he taught me Roman law, in case you care to know.
Freude: Laudo!
Jet: Habeas corpus.
Freude: Video.
Jet: Damnum absque injuria!
Freude: Satis biene.
Jet: Nolo contendre.
Freude: Amice magne.
Jet: inter alia, viva voce, idems sonans, corpus delicti, flagrante delicto, quid pro quo, en banc, petitio principii, per curiam, ponente, de jure, de facto, ipso facto, impakto!
Freude: Mangluk-luko lang datoy nagsurat ditoy.
Jet: Iso ngarud!

(to be continued, unless on second reading I get terribly embarassed, kin nam)