The Imam was dying a slow, cruel death outside the Indian borders. He must have selected a son as a successor, but even something as simple as that co...ld not be counted on. The prayers alleviated his struggling. Surely Tariq had faith in them and never gave up his praying during every spare moment of the crisis. But the timing was off. The Imam was dying as he barely shed his youth.Tariq first met The Imam in Delhi four years ago: A tall, muscular young man with a fine beard of black. Instead. Instead ofeating it up like we usually do, we thought it would becool to add my brother-in-law’s (that’s me) huge loadto it and let him film us playing with it, throwing itat each other, and then slurping it down. “That’s disgusting!” said Cathy. But her mother Gingersaid, “Not necessarily. That sounds like fun, can wejoin you?” “Sure,” Daniel said, “but you gotta do what we say,it’s our cum.” “What is it we have to. More

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