Date:         Sun, 1 Feb 1998 19:39:23 +0800
From: Raymond McDowell <bbgpted@ASIAONLINE.NET>
Subject:      INT: Return to the Fold

The road was dusty. The day was gray and overcast. The Hong Kong Hang Seng
Index had dropped another 200 points. The Indonesian economy was in a
shambles. El Nino was in a severe mood swing and both a blizzard and a heat
wave were predicted within the next 48 hours.  The chickens had all been
slaughtered and the cows had all gone mad.  Throughout Asia, every time a
punter rolled the dice they came up snake-eyes.

In other words, a conspiracy was afoot.  Somewhere, some foul villain was
wringing his, her or its hands (or other prehensile appendages) in malicious
glee.  Something had to be done.

A dot appeared in the distance. As it meandered along the winding path of
the ill-used thoroughfare, it began to take shape. It was a small company of
pedestrian travelers.  At the front was a long-legged, shapely Chinese girl
in tight fitting red pants and go-go boots.  She wore a cut-off blouse that
left her bare midriff.....bare. She cradled a bundle in her arms, cooing to
it as she walked. Behind her was an older lady, also Chinese. Her legs were
much shorter so that she had to take two steps for every one of the girl's.
She carried an over-sized backpack and a large hand bag she kept clutched in
front of her.  Much further back, and strolling quite leisurely, were two
males. The taller of the two was well over 5 feet in height, sporting a beer
belly and Buddhist monk's gray gown. He carried a bell and a gong he banged
together with no particular rhythm or discernable reason. The other,
standing about knee height, wore a trench coat and coolie hat. He had a
cigarette dangling from his mouth and kept his hands stuck deep in his
pockets. Both were bald.

"So why is it," said the taller bloke, "everytime there's a world wide
crisis for Chinese people they gotta call on B.B. Loi for the mission? Don't
they have any other secret agents to send gallivanting around the world? And
why did she have to dress me up like a monk?"

"Because the only way to keep your penis in your pants is to dress you in a
skirt?" suggested his short, gravel-voiced companion. "Besides, all the
other Hong Kong based agents had the holiday off."

"And that's another thing. Why doesn't my wife ever get a day off? Seem's
like all she does is risk life and limb for Mao, Deng and country. Seems
they should at least give her a break now that she has a little one to take
care of."

"Aw, quitcherbitchin', Dad. What were you doin' that was so worthwhile? You
haven't written a jot in the past year.  And your missus has other things to
do besides model the latest underwear from Frederick's for you. Seems to me
you should show a little more compassion for the Cause."

"Oh yeah," said the monk. "The Cause.  You're right."

"Right," said the short guy. "Now, why don't you give me a lift so we can
catch up to Momma Wong and the Missus before we completely lose sight of
'em."

"Okay. Climb up."

With that the short guy pulled his hands out of his pockets and grabbed hold
of the rope dangling from the oversized waist of the monk. He swung up onto
the monk's shoulders and yelled, "Giddyup!"

The monk yelled at the two women, "Hey! B.B. Loi. Momma Wong. Wait up!"
Then he started jogging towards them.

(to be continued)

Komrade Rqy of the HKSAR



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