It was a drunken lark. A gag. Eric and Tony got hammered out of their skulls on a box of cheap wine and then went tearing through the Red Mantis Buddhist Prayer Gardens at two in the morning.

They giggled like schoolboys when Tony filled his pockets with bars of soap from a steam room and exchanged his running shoes for a pair of wooden sandals placed neatly beside the doorway. They laughed heartily as Eric rampaged through carefully tended rock and cacti gardens, flipping stones and gravel through the air, cleaving cactus in two with an iron bar he'd found near the fence right before they'd hopped over it.