As Jim walked into the centre of the village, he began to cry out for help. Suddenly shapes that he at first thought were just a part of the buildings began to move toward him. People. Helpers. One man up to them. He was older, with wearied, crazed eyes. Had Jim come to this village under any different circumstances, he might have avoided this man completely, but in his desperation he was just happy to find anyone who could offer some help.

"Sir, sir, can you help me. I need to find a room. The lady here is ready to deliver our child."

The older man did not look at Jim even once. He kept his eyes fixed on the woman, and her engorged breasts, full with milk for the expectant child.

"Oh momma!" the old man said.

Jim thought about beating him senseless, but realized he didn’t have the time, so he implored of him further for help.

"A place to stay, huh? Well you might try the Scranton Inn, just up the way, on your left, serves excellent lentil soup on Feast of the First Fruits weekend, but it’s probably full. It is tourist season you know. Say, you guys wouldn’t happen to have any frankinsense would ya?" He asked, as he showed them his empty pipe. "Something to help an old man with his aches and pains?"

Jim ignored him and coaxed the donkey onward in the direction the old man had told him to go. Fortunately, Jim realized, as he rounded the corner, the man had been telling him the truth. He saw the Inn, but in his haste and excitement, he neglected to notice the "No Vacancy" sign, lit up by a candle, in the window.

He tied the donkey to a post, and helped Pam as she dismounted off of it. Gingerly guiding her inside the Inn, he sat her down on a chair and ran over to the reception, and began honking the horn that was used to summon the attendant.

A few moments later a strange looking man, tall, gangly, and with hair parted down the middle of his oversized head, walked into reception.

"I’m sorry, we’re full." he exclaimed very callously. "You can try The Best Middle-Eastern on Third street."

"Sir, Mr...." Jim panned the mans cloak for a name tag. He found the name.

"Mr. Dwight. Mr. Dwight, my fiancee is about to give birth. Please, we need a rabbi, or a handmaiden or someone to help."

"Your fiancee?" Dwight asked, with obvious abhorrence. "You went in unto this woman before marriage? Tsk tsk. What is this world coming to? You’d swear we were back in the days of Noah. What’s next? Samaritans and Jews begatting with one another? When will it all end? Where is our deliverance?"

Jim was clearly losing his patience. He wasn’t going to even try to explain the divine conception to this simpleton. Yet he knew that he had to get a room here. He couldn’t risk leaving here and searching elsewhere. There just wasn’t enough time. Then he had an idea.

"Listen, sir, I just...she’s about to give birth. If we don’t get her a room soon she’s going to deliver right on the floor of your lobby. And you don’t want that because then according to the law your Inn will be unclean and you’ll lose all your business for the next month. So please..."

Jim’s eyes pleaded with the manager. The manager was clearly not amused. and he stared disapprovingly at Jim. But suddenly his eyes softened and he cast his eyes over to Pam, who was sweating, and moaning in obvious discomfort.

"Fine" he said, finally. "Let me see what I can do."

Night manager Dwight Bar-Dwight Bar-Dwide did his best to find them a room. But every room was occupied. At long last, in desperation he took hold of an idea. He took them out back behind the Inn, to an old diapidated shed. Once inside, Jim looked around, and was amazed by what he saw. On the wall hung various forms of sticks, staves, sling shots, clubs, and a variety of stones and rocks. It looked like an museum of war.

"For the next stoning", Dwight said to Jim, who he saw was eyeing the boulders.

"Right." said Jim, clearly a little frightened.

"Well this had better do, because it’s all I have. You’re welcome to use it. Please put the afterbirth in a jar over on that shelf. I use them to feed my camels. Thank you and have a nice stay."

And with that Dwight left and headed back to reception.

Jim was about to pick up a sling shot when Pam screamed a piercing, blood curdling cry.