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Thus the man chanted relentlessly.

Ohm. Ohm. Ohmmmmma?

This last repetition of the mantra was flawed. Certainly not on purpose; the man would never have intentionally let his concentration waver. But, something external was distracting him. Something wet and slippery. And jarring.

The distraction left as quickly as it came, leaving only the memory and a feeling of slight sliminess upon his cheek. He felt he could forget the former and ignore the latter, and returned to his mantra.

Ohm. Ohm. (slap)

He felt the shock again. Before he had a chance to contemplate the meaning of it, he felt it again. And again. And again.

The man opened his eyes, annoyed that his meditation had been interrupted so. Around him was the stone-and-wood splendour of the Tibetan monastery. The prayer wheels were still, and the air hung heavy with the smoke of incense. But something seemed out of place in the calm serenity of the temple. Was it the minute amounts of dust drifting through the sunlight? Was it the faint whistling of the wind? Was it the almost inaudible echoes of his fellow monks' prayers?

He rejected each possibility as he considered them. No, all those things were as they should be. What, then?

Unexpectedly, Enlightenment came upon him. The thing that was out of place was Bob, the scary clown, repeatedly bludgeoning him with a pair of live eels.