The Return of An Old Nemesis

Last year, quite by chance, I met a rotund middle-aged woman by the name of Mrs. Wen. She is an independent Chinese teacher living here in Michinoshi. She's a very friendly woman from Zhengzhou and married a Japanese man. And because I simply can't pass-up a chance to show-off my Chinese, we began talking (she speaks not a word of English) and became good acquaintances.

Every year, she has a formal party which she throws for her eighty or so students and I was thrilled to be invited. Sadly, my girlfriend couldn't accompany me because she had to work late.

The party was held in a hotel in the downtown area in one of those large multi-purpose rooms.

On that particular date, I was having a good hair day and I was wearing one of my better suits on the way there. A charcoal non-vented jacket, matching slacks and a black, high-collared Chinese silk shirt. I hung-up my coat on the rack in the hallway and caught a glimpse of myself on a mirror. Damn, I looked great.

I presented my invitation at the door and walked-in. The room was surprisingly large. A quick look-over indicated about 60 or 70 people there, the chatting was at the level of a dull roar. I immediately entered, sought-out Mrs. Wen and thanked her for inviting me. I presented her with a small gift and shared a few friendly words.

There was a buffet of Chinese food in center of the room, I naturally gravitated there first and placed a few shrimps on a plate. Then, I headed straight to the bar.

What kind of wine do you have? South African shiraz? I sipped it. Wonderful! Very herby. I'd like a glass of that. Wonderful.

I looked-around, there were a variety of adults from early 20s to 60 and above. In addition to Japanese, there seemed to be a number of Chinese and Taiwanese as well. As can be expected in any party, intermixed here and there were 20 or so attractive women in their mid-20s. Many of them were wearing their best kimonos or qipaos (the high-necked, body-hugging Chinese silk dresses which I find to be so tantalizingly gorgeous). After a few minutes, Mrs. Wen introduced me to several of them, and we began to talk.

Most of the young women were part-time students who've been studying in private tutorials under Mrs. Wen. Some were travel agents, some were college students, and some were office workers but a few others were some of her friends from mainland China.

Now you have to understand, I'm much more comfortable in Chinese than in Japanese. Communication all of a sudden got several times easier. While speaking Chinese, I think I can actually be quite charming-- my jokes are funnier and I can tell exciting stories. And I love the sound of a woman speaking Mandarin, too. Most westerners seem to think Chinese is loud and cacophonous, but I find it to be very graceful.

In our conversations, we talked of our respective travels in China. Mostly, these women had been to the larger cities: Beijing, Hong Kong, perhaps Xi'an. And always always always the overcrowded showcase of Shanghai. But my travels were a bit different...

Shoestring backpacking treks through the steamy karst mountains of Yunnan and the sun-scorched desert basins of Xinjiang. From tiny Tibetan villages in Gansu to the landlocked megalopolis of Chongqing, down the soon-to vanish Three Gorges. Going all the way to the borders of Burma, Kazakhstan and Mongolia and back. And these women seemed positively captivated by these tales of adventure off the beaten track.

Please try to envision the scene: NiceGuy is standing there in the middle of a fancy party wearing a sharp suit. He's got perfect hair, with a wine glass in one hand, surrounded by four or five beautiful women who are hanging on his every word with fascination as if he were some kind of TV star.

Did I ever mention that I love the women here?

They offered to fetch me refills when my drink ran low. They offered to get me something from the dessert table. They asked me to pose with them for pictures. After a while, they bombarded me with more personal questions. Did I know I have beautiful eyes? Do I like Japanese girls? Do I like Taiwanese girls? How many girlfriends did I have in Taiwan? What's my phone number? Did I want to meet-up for coffee some time next week?

I'm so sorry. I have a girlfriend. Didn't I mention that?

Oh, sad faces.

Then came a predictable question: "Is she American?"

I immediately threw my head back and laughed.

"Oh my heavens, what a funny joke!" I pretended to wipe a tear of laughter. "You must be kidding me."

"Why? Why?" One asked, nibbling a strawberry.

"Please let me tell you what American women are like." I paused dramatically, holding-up my hand and smiling rakishly. "An American woman will proudly insist: 'God might be a woman!' Well okay, then. That's possible. But then ask her: could the devil be a woman? No no no! The devil's a man! The devil's a man!" I paused as we all shared a bit of a laugh before continuing.

"And they love equality, too. They demand 'equality' for everything, but as soon as it's time to pay for half of dinner: Equality? What's equality? I don't know what 'equality' is, do you?" More laughs.

I pretended to toss my long hair. "Look at me! I'm an American woman! I can use as much bad language as I want, but I need legal protection from a man who tells dirty jokes!"

"Oh, you're devastating!" One of them giggled and playfully slapped my upper arm.

Then I said in a very heartfelt voice: "So it's no mystery that I completely prefer having fun with wonderful, intelligent and polite ladies like you. What could be better?"

"Oh!" They nodded, putting their hands over their mouths, happily flattered. "What a gentleman!" One gushed.

I then chose that moment to explain how an American female would've rationalized this sort of scene: she'd simply claim that Asian women are brainlessly submissive and I am just too pathetic to be worthy of an obviously-superior white woman, thus speaking volumes about her sickening racism.

(Well, actually I didn't mention that. Speaking the truth would've dampened the mood...)

At any rate, I was truly in rare form that evening.

Unfortunately, these types of parties are often organized in such a way as to remove all spontaneity from them. It ended more or less on time, with Mrs. Wen saying good-bye and thank you to everyone over a microphone.

At the end of the party, I helped the various ladies put-on their coats and bid them goodnight.

Riding the Train Home...

It was on one of the last trains of the night. As a result, the train was carrying a volume of people you normally wouldn't expect to see around 11:30.

I was standing there resting myself against a chrome rail, quietly listening to my beloved iPod. I was awash in self-satisfied bliss and nicely buzzed from drink.

I sighed happily. I am awesome am I not? Oh yes, I certainly am.

The train slowed-down and opened it's door as a semi-crowded station. A line of passengers filed-in.

Nothing can spoil this evening. Nothing.

It was at that very instant that I was jarred-out of my trance as a pair of loud newcomers entered the train...

Aw crap. I cringed as I caught a glimpse of these cloven-footed monstrosities suddenly standing beside my personage. I immediately recoiled in disgust.

Gross!

You're horrible!

Oh Christ, I... I can't even look at you!

There were two of them. You could spot them a mile away.

The blonde virago had a pallid, grotty, unpropitious face that made me want to throw-up. Her skin resembled the dead flaccid stuff hanging from a boil-in-the-bag turkey. She was wearing faux-leather pants, looking to all the world like she'd crammed herself into a pair of brown sausage casings.

"So I'm all like she was all up in my face and stuff and I was totally like wasted or what-everrrr and didn't even know the guy I was flirting with was her ex-boyfriend so what's up with that 'cuz I'm all what-everrrr and, like..."

Did you ever notice that every American chick in Japan looks like a freakin' manatee?

Puke! Puke! PUKE!

The other slug was an Ameriskank of Asian descent. Glasses, scabby, pockmark-acne and a fireplug-shaped body. Like a fleshy pineapple-face. As she garbled responses, you could hear the plastic clacking of her retainer slurping back and forth against her hard palate.

"Noooo way, nuh-uh! Nuh-uh! *Slurp* Nuh-uh! Nuh-uh! Nuh-uh! *Slurp* Yer shittin' me! Nuh-uh!"

I grit my teeth at these dismal agglomerations of loosely-assembled brain-parts. I twinged over and over as I suffered through their husky, tobacco-phlegmhacking, Oscar-The-Grouchlike gadding. Believe me, friends. The noise would've chip-chipped away at your spine like an icepick.

"Trish said no and she like kept saying no and stuff and I'm like what's up with that, yeah?"

"Nuh-uh! *Slurp* And what did she say?"

AUGH!! You could almost feel the black petroleum-like goo pulsing through their arteries! You knew there had to be hundreds of microscopic bugs busily feasting-away at the crumbly, shriveled prunes of their souls. I was standing there, gritting my teeth with my eyes clenched shut. I was silently praying that someone would make their heads explode like in the movie Scanners.

I feel dirty just by being within the same train car as these things. It's like they're from a different galaxy or something! I turned-up the sound on my iPod to drown them out. That's better. Yeah.

A few minutes passed. The music inexplicably stopped. Dismayed, I checked the battery display.

Out of power.

Shit.

Rolling my eyes in disgust, I irritatedly removed the earpieces and neatly coiled them up as the din continued.

"...is such a skank-ho since she danced naked on that bar on Molokai anyway and do these pants make my hips look fat hee-hee *snort* and we went to another party and was totally da bomb..."

"Nuh-uh! *Slurp* Nuh-uh!"

Flesh-eaters! They're a pair of goddamned flesh-eaters! With worms and maggots crawling-out their ears! Aughhh!

Stop it! Stop it stop it stop it stop it! You both drank way too many beer-bongs in college! You think celebrity gossip is the same thing as journalism fer freakin' sake! You piss on the walls to mark your territories! Stop it!!

I looked around. It was pretty crowded. I wanted to move away, but it seemed like I'd be surrendering to these horrors.

They were each talking in run-on dirge-like prattlings about how wasted and stoned and pukey and hung-over they were at Tony's party, like, I am SO not shitting you and like what-everrrr.

I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you!!!!

"...so I told her, you're not the boss of me, you can fuck-off if you think you can tell me what to do. And she was looking at me with this kinda weird look, you know, like she was thinking some nasty shit..."

Oh, what superior communications skills they have. Ugh.

Every time I run across North American chicks, they never fail to reveal themselves as baneful, walking corpses-- completely emptied of any socially-redeeming features whatsoever.

Here I am, next to Pale Idiot-Girl and her four-eyed sidekick, Pineapple-Face. You're horrible. I hate you both.

"Nuh-uhhhh!! *Slurp*"

I clenched my eyes shut. Shut up! Shut up! Somebody make your heads explode, PLEASE! Somebody!

At the next station, the train came to a halt. The doors whooshed-open and another crush of people boarded the train. I grabbed a strap on the ceiling to brace myself. Suddenly Pale Idiot-Girl was pressed-up against my back. My eyes jerked open in frenzied horror. As if someone had dumped boiling lead all over me.

Internally, I started to freak-out.

Fuck! Fuckity fuck fuck!

Oh God, this poisonous thing is touching me!

This slimy thing is-- AUGH!

I'm going to get cancer!

Incinerate my clothes and hose me with sterilizing chemicals NOW!

Speaking through clenched teeth, I turned my head slightly and grumbled forcefully at the blonde. "Back! Off!"

"What?" Oozed the slut-demon. I could see her horrible reflection in a window. It was ghastly. Beady eyes with a glassy stare; her mouth was a wide, lipless gash. When it flopped open, it revealed several rows of triangular daggerlike teeth.

A nightmarish beast of apocalyptic ruination!

"Back! Off!" I clenched my teeth harder and repeated the warning more sternly so that even this shambling, miasmic lizard could understand. Am I not speaking English, ya fuckin' spit-viper?

"Heh, sorry man!" it burbled. The message carried no sincerity whatsoever. I didn't like the tone of it's voice. Most importantly- it didn't back-off.

I stood there, a white-hot filament of rage quickly growing inside me. I was gripped by a complete and overwhelming sense of chilling revulsion.

I've been contaminated by an abhorrent squid-inky blob of loathsomeness!

I've been polluted by a tentacled C'thulhoid terror-thing from the pit-furnaces of hell!

Soul-devourer Mahakala is breathing its fumes down my neck!

Get it off! Get it off! Get it off oh God oh God oh God!!

Pale Idiot-Girl's shoulder is pressing into my back. I told it to stop. And it isn't backing-off. Clearly, this is harassment.

No, molestation!

This thing is molesting me!

If they don't get-off at the next station, I will. Even though it's not my final destination. I'll wait for the next train, for I refuse to ride on the same vehicle with these abominations!

These EVIL abominations!

Just then, I began to hear a faint cackle echoing deep from within me.

Did somebody say... 'evil'?

Uh oh.

I suddenly felt a disturbing and familiar presence stirring deep down.

No, not that. Not again!

It had been gone for years. I'd thought it was banished forever? Banished for good?

The troublemaker's grin slowly crept onto my face...

N-no! Not this! Not now! He'd clawed his way back. The unspeakable doppelganger from beyond the murky depths of madness.

N-no... got to force it back into the hole from whence it came... nnnoooo!

Oh, yes! EvilGuy is BACK, baby!

Muhuwahaha!

This is gonna be soooo fun!

EvilGuy turned his head slightly to see Pale Idiot-Girl's head. He almost vomited.

What's-up with you skanky cumbuckets? Do you oozing smegmatic cunts really think you can molest my boy NiceGuy and get away with it? Huh?

What to do with you cock-holsters? What to do here?

Relentlessly smacking the crap out of these two isn't an option.

Neither is grabbing handfuls of that hair and ripping-off big chunks of scalp.

RIP.

RIP.

RIP.

Fun.

Like peel-'n-eat shrimp.

But no. That wouldn't be appropriate. It would get blood all over NiceGuy's coat.

He looked down at the floor. He looked at how the two were standing. Perhaps...

One of the city's major stations was coming-up soon. Most of the people on the train will get-off. That'll give enough room.

He positioned himself carefully.

The train slowed to a halt and the doors opened. People were starting to get off. Within 5 seconds, there was empty space behind them.

Sadistic amusement will commence... now.

Bracing his foot for maximum leverage, EvilGuy used his shoulder and arm to violently force all his weight at Pale Idiot-Girl. She was surprisingly light.

"HEY!" She shouted as she got body-checked into Pineapple-Face, knocking her off-balance. Thud! Thud! Both of them fell onto the train's floor.

You like that, dontcha bitch?

"Watch it!" Screeched Pineapple-Face.

"DO NOT FUCKING TOUCH ME!" EvilGuy bellowed down at them.

"What the hell!" Whimpered Idiot-Girl as she frantically grabbed onto a nearby railing to regain her balance. Pineapple-Face sat-up, her mouth agape with surprise. A transparent thread of slobber dribbled onto her sweater.

Wouldn't I love to kick-out those teeth? Watch them skitter across the floor like bloody Chicklets? Then she'll need a new fucking retainer.

EvilGuy turned to the other commuters on the train and announced loudly and angrily: "Dorobo!" (Thief!) He jabbed his finger accusingly towards the pair he'd just pushed and tapped his coat pocket.

Several of the commuters gasped in surprised shock. Several people who were just coming on the train backed-out cautiously.

Idiot-Girl's lip began to tremble.

Oh Jeez. Look at these pathetic things! I thought you were tough, huh? I thought you could kick my ass, huh? Isn't that what you like to brag?

Pathetic!

"Dorobo." He announced again, jabbing his finger towards the two shocked women on the floor. Scowling, EvilGuy slipped-out the exit and hopped-off the train. The sliding doors whooshed shut behind him as he calmly walked into the crowd on the platform. Consternated mumbles could be momentarily heard from within the cab but were suddenly drowned-out by the train's electronic bipping staccato. The cars pulled-away from the platform and proceeded dutifully along to their next stop.

His heart pounded. Flying on an adrenaline rush.

Damn... that felt good!

Ooooh yeah.

He breathed-out calmly. That'll teach the little bratlings the consequences of molesting EvilGuy. And weren't they picking his pocket?

Yeah, that's right. They were molesters and pickpockets. It was all self-defense, baby.

And wouldn't it be funny if those two got handed-over to the police at the next stop?

That would be totally hilarious!

Several people on the platform had witnessed the scene onboard the train and were expressing excited concern.

EvilGuy turned to face them and jammed his thumb towards where the train had been a few seconds before. "Dorobo deshita!" (It was a thief!) he replied bravely as he testily brushed-off his clothes. He grumbled in a guttural coarse voice: "Gaijin no onanohito wa itsumo itazura ga suki, da ne?" (Foreign women always love to cause trouble, don't they?)

Several bystanders offered worried sympathy.

"Daijyobu desuka?" (Are you okay?) A matronly woman asked, obviously sympathetic.

"Daijyobu desu." (I'm okay.) EvilGuy replied with calm resignation and a curt nod. Arigato. No, don't worry. Everything's okay, thanks for your concern. No injury, but my nerves were badly jangled by those scoundrels! (Sniffle! Sniffle!) Thank you for your sympathy, I'm so hurting inside! Nothing of value was stolen, thank God. Call the police? It's tempting, but that won't be necessary now that the culprits have been taught a lesson they won't soon forget. Yes, we all know that crimes committed by foreigners are skyrocketing nowadays. You just can't trust those inscrutable Occidental women.

Within minutes, the last train of the night arrived and EvilGuy boarded it to continue to his destination. Thankfully, he was unmolested this time.

EvilGuy Was Clearly The Victim Tonight.

Poor little EvilGuy!

EvilGuy was the victim!

What? You don't think so?

Come on, that was totally done in self defense!

They were harassing EvilGuy- obviously! It was molestation- you saw it, didn't you? They were touching him and shedding their hair all over the place and breathing on him wrong and spreading germs and stuff. And they were picking his pocket maybe. He had no choice when faced with such overwhelming and incomprehensible wickedness. No choice at all. He was just so horribly oppressed and he bears no burden of responsibility for anything he does!

Oh, come on. Don't look at me like that. North American chicks are tough; surely they can handle a playful nudge? They're always bragging about how they can kick any man's ass. And if they'd slapped EvilGuy on the face for standing too close, it would've been gut-bustingly funny. Why, it is completely hilarious to kick a man in the groin or slice-off his dick, right? Don't be uptight and humorless-- lighten-up! Smile!

Yeah, they're plenty tough. They can take a bit of a good-natured push. That's what they insist. Sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander.

And who knows? One of those ruffians might've had a knife. Or a gun. Or Weapons of Mass Destruction. You can never be too careful nowadays. There are a lot of crazies out there. Terrorists and so on.

Yes, EvilGuy was the real victim tonight. Clearly.

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"I have no idea why Lenny Kravitz covered "American Woman" for the Austin Powers: The Spy who Shagged Me soundtrack. The Guess Who wasn't being flirtatious like Lenny turned the song into. They really meant get the fuck away from me. You ain't worth my time." -- Izzy Rankin

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