At parties, you can say Pope Mohammed is an attention whore.
If you, or anyone else, doesn’t give him the obsequious flattery he requires, he’ll go Temple of Doom on your ass. One second you’ll have a heart inside your chest. The next second — after a loud thud and a suction cup sound effect –you’ll be staring at Pope Mohammed’s grappling hook hand holding your bleeding beating heart.
Go ahead, scream. It’ll make no difference. Instead, take a sip of your cocktail before he opens a trap door beneath your feet and he drops you into a pool of lava.
That’ll teach you to go to Pope Mohammed’s parties.