Saturday, January 27, 2007

Unfortunate Cookie 2: Back in Action

The Haitian and I landed safely in a foresty area of China. That's more than can be said for the fat guy, our fellow parachutee.

We travelled for what seemed like days until we finally came to civilization. As we stepped out into the clearing, we were welcomed by looks of sheer confusion. It was as though they rarely have newcomers in their village.

I saw this poster on the wall of one of the buildings. "These people must be their monarchs," I said. The Haitian (We really ought to get him a name) nodded in approval. "Excuse me," I hollered at a young boy, "Where is your leader?"

He said something which I would have no possible way of understanding, let alone typing. But he wouldn't shut up. Strange syllables kept coming out of his mouth. Then, all of a sudden, he was speaking English, "...will kill you when she finds out! Those were her favorite flowers. Don't you have any manners? How would you like it if I came to your house and stomped all over your flower bed? I bet you'd be upset, too!" I looked over at The Haitian. He seemed to be hearing it too. I gave him a nod.

Just as The Haitian was about to knock the boy unconscious, a voice sounded "Hey, you there!" I turned. "You're Americans, right?"

I put my hand up to halt the The Haitians actions, then replied to the man walking toward me. "I am. He's a Haitian."

"I can help you," he said. As he spoke I could see his mouth didn't seem to be synching with his words. It was like watching a Kung Fu movie without the Kung Fu.

"How can you help us?"

"I have this," he paused and looked at the little boy. The boy stuck his tongue out at the man and ran off. "Ability," he finished.

Now, generally when people say they have an ability, I'm skeptical. Sure, I know the things evolved people can do. But any wacko can claim to have an ability, and often they do. If I could have my own reality show, it would be more painful to watch than American Idol. These days everyone thinks they can bend spoons with their minds.

"I can translate for you," he said.

Then I realized what had happened. Somehow his presence was making me hear Chinese in English.

"What is your name?" I asked him.

"Jake." That made me wonder if his actual name was Jake or the word he said had been translated. I looked over at The Haitian and gave him another nod.

"What was that? I didn't hear you."

He repeated himself, but this time I had no clue what he said. Alright, so Jake was a translation. Good enough for me.

"Well, Jake. We need to talk to your leader."

Jake agreed to help us and we set off on our way. The leader was apparently in some fancy temple-like building. The Haitian grabbed my hand. At first I was jolted by the action, preparing to Judo Chop my companion. Then, I noticed the steps.

The Haitian has long had a fear of stairs. And the building we were about to enter had well over 100 steps to go up. He's been going to counseling about it. It's just difficult to make progress when the patient won't talk.

Holding his hand, we made our way up all the steps. The three of us entered past a large doorway.

And there he was. The leader of China, no doubt. He was sitting on a throne with two body guards on either side of him.

"Your highness," I said to him, "We have travelled long and far to request reimbursement for a defective product made in your lovely country."

"You come from the west, no?" he asked.

"Well, yes, I suppose. Since the world is round, we're actually on both directions. I think our plane flew in from the east." I looked over at The Haitian for confirmation. He seemed still uneased by the steps.

"Round? You are mad!"

"Of course I'm mad. I want my $32.50 that is owed to me."

"We have none of your currency here."

"Well, could I get something worth $32.50?"

"How about this set of Star Wars pez dispensers?"



I couldn't resist. "I'll take it!" I yelled.

"Not so fast. These are worth $100. You are only owed $32.50. So you must pay $78.50."

He was right. And I wanted those so badly. In fact, I already had a Yoda Pez dispenser. It was in my pocket. His Pez dispensers would be a great addition to my collection of one. But I had no cash on me.

"Do you take Visa?" I wondered because I really didn't want to be here and I know they're accepted everywhere else.

"Of course!" he laughed. "What do you think we are? Some sort of primitive society of infedels like those Hippopelies who only take Discover?"

"Sorry about that translation," Jake said, "There's not really a word for Hippopelies."

"It's fine." I said. I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my wallet. What was in it you ask? Well, I've seen the commercials and apparently should you have anything other than a Capital One card, a pack of crazed Mongols will chase you down. And since we were coming to China, I came prepared. I handed him my Primatech Paper Capital One Visa credit card.

He slid the card through his card-reader machine. After a few moments, it was accepted and I signed. He lifted my card high above his head and said, "Thank you, come again!"



Jake and I helped get The Haitian safely down the steps and then he took us to the nearest airport. This was not a good day for The Haitian and his fears, I thought.

He was determined not to get on another plane. "We have to get back home," I said. He shook his head.


I pulled out my Yoda Pez dispenser and held it up in his face. "Fear is the path to the Dark Side," I warned in my best Yoda voice. This seemed to calm him down. Still in my Yoda voice I added, "On this plane, an air marshal there will not be. Hrmm!"

Luckily the duffel bag holding Jake made it through security. All in all, I'd have to say it was an excellent mission. I had certainly made the most of my situation.

5 comments:

Sylar said...

sounds like quite the adventure! can i have sum pez?

Mistah Esock said...

Amazing again.

Svetlana Smith said...

It's too bad that you're already married and Mohinder is marrying me, because I'd totally marry you for one of those Pez dispensers.

~Lana

D.L. Hawkins said...

No Mase Windu?! Help a Brother out!

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