You and Bogie should pick up a couple pandas to keep you company–a relatively tame development at El Morocco tonight. That is, until these two dames waltz over and try to steal them.
“Hey!” Bogie will say. “Don’t bogart the pandas!”
Lunge for yours (which you have named Mao-Chi) and a scuffle, says the press in the morning, will ensue. Confer soberly with Bogie in your unshaven pajamas.
“It’s a feeding frenzy,” he’ll say. “They’ll want a sacrifice.”
Assume you’re it.
“Well, yeah,” he’ll sigh, “this way I get two pandas,” as their carnivorous black eyes turn to you.