Chapter Fifty Six. Goofy and His Escorts

Goofy and His Escorts

A few rounds of Inner Smile, and a person will see things differently every time. Once you start the cleaning process, all those old cobwebs that clogged up the energy flow get brushed away, and passage ways which had been blocked become new roads to happiness.

So it is understandable that even though Derby recognized that the young Asian women were trouble, he welcomed the adventure just because he loves to love and be loved. More importantly though, he harbored some crazy notion in the deepest part of himself that there must be a reason for the tug between himself and females. Like perhaps he could help them work through issues, and somehow, whatever it was he had within himself...call it chemistry or healing tricks or a tenderness which he enjoyed sharing for anyone who would accept it, then he could no longer deny the attraction than walk past a puppy with a broken leg.

As soon as the girls had disappeared, Mark had a break and he and Derby started to reconnect.

"Dude, that was excellent!," promised Derby to the musician.

"Oh, thanks man," humbly returned Mark. "But what a coincidence to see you here! How did you happen to show up here for my Earth Day concert!"

"Earth Day?," replied Derby, surprised. "Wow, I didn't know. By the way Mark, what's your take on discussing politics on Facebook?"

"Don't like it. Period," confirmed Mark. "I'm a lover not an arguer. Besides, I don't play politics."

"Would you like me to hum a few bars?," questioned Derby, always trying to be the clever boy.

"No, but I wouldn't mind finding the bar," responded Mark, who was gathering up the Yuan from his open guitar case.

As Mark was bent over, the two Asian girls returned as speeding bullets and whisked Derby away at knife point. Mark rose from closing up his guitar case with this line, "What do you say we blow this pop stand and find a..."

But what Mark found in the middle of his sentence was the rest of the crowd which had thinned out and also become shy of one Derby Joshua Clearwater Ripley.

Derby was actually delighted to be handled so violently by the attractive females. One of them was tall, wore glasses and was in long pony tails. The other one had short hair, was extremely stylish and held the knife to his throat with the precision of a surgeon.

The employee area in the HK Fantasyland is full of surprises for a person who has never seen the forbidden areas of a Disneyland. Whether it is in Hong Kong or Anaheim, the byways for employees to move about behind the scenes, taking off their costumes or making out with other characters, are loaded with unexpected action adventure.

In Hong Kong, the Disneyland is in Penny's Bay on Lantau Island and most of the employees are performers and dancers, who also have years of training in Kung Fu. What Derby never expected to learn is that Kung Fu dancers have extraordinary speed at undressing a compromised captive.

"Ripley, we can't believe our good fortune," said the shorter female with the knife, as she tore open his shirt, buttons flying, and Derby's chest hairs standing on end. "We're taking you to Justin Scoville. He has been looking for you. We arrived here at his orders and have trained to become Disney entertainers, knowing that your friend Mark would likely connect with you eventually."

By now the taller girl had stripped Derby of his trousers and was searching his underwear for any concealed weapons. Derby noticed his pistol seemed to be locked and loaded, and he was slightly embarrassed to be discovered by the expert pat down by the attractive lady.

"So you carry a rocket in your pocket?," questioned the glasses wearing assailant.

"The better to shoot you with my dear," said Derby with his best wolf accent.

But by now Derby's mind was racing. "Scoville?," he thought to himself. "So this may be my chance to finally talk to the man who actually sent for me to discuss Children of Zol!," he reflected.

Unfortunately for the Derbster, the girls weren't interested in his being so excited to see them. They had him dressed as Goofy in record speed and were escorting him along the employee lane toward the Cinderella Carousel, just past Dumbo the Flying Elephant. As they neared the Mickey's PhilharMagic 3d Theater, Derby recognized the knife point, now shoved securely up against his rib cage, poking easily through the fur of the Goofy costume.

"When we get to the guard outpost," said the shorter female, pressing the knife into Derby's ribs, "you say--Good night George. Me and the girls have some business with a dragon." Then she added, "and don't forget to sound like Goofy. That should be pretty easy for you Ripley!"



When the threesome arrived at the gate, the guard offered no resistance, so off they went, out of the park toward the Star Ferry Terminal. Goofy and two beautiful Kung Fu dancers, an unlikely menage a trios.

Chapter Fifty Seven. Goofy Finds His Balls

Goofy Finds His Balls

Derby's assailants were leading him through the throng of people along the Park Promenade leading away from Disneyland toward the Lantau Ferry.

Once the three were well beyond the parking and commotion of Disneyland, Derby dressed as Goofy attracted and increasing number of attention. What had been a welcome distraction for him, a fantasy of being kidnapped by two attractive young females, expecting them to be interested in him as a "boy toy," sadly, turned out to be all-in-his-head.

What was dripping off of his head were puddles of sweat from the polyester fur of The Big Goof. Derby was listening to Paul Simon in his head, singing I DON'T FIND THIS STUFF AMUSING ANYMORE, as the knife point in his ribs kept a steady stinging reminder that Goofy was just along for the ride. Two determined females were doing the driving.

"Don't try anything funny Ripley," said the shorter female, named Zhong Li.

"Huh-yuk," came Derby's best Goofy impersonation, "You mean like going to shoot some golf?"

"Golf!," proclaimed the taller of Derby's two escorts, Tsu Yen. "Yes, that would be fun."

"Are they in season?," said Derby, still in character as the comic character, with his accent derived from a hillbilly hound.

"Enough of your bullshit Ripley," warned Zhong Li, adding a little pressure from the knife.

When Derby felt the jerk of his head crack his neck and the force of his body being slung to the ground, he wasn't altogether sure that the girls hadn't decided to punish him for his unacceptable Goofy impersonation. But quickly, in the skirmish, he learned that his buddy Mark Sethlang had come to his rescue.

"Dude," said Mark as he scuffled with Zhong Li. "Don't let that other one get away!,"

The other one he referred to was Tsu Yen who had taken off and was running away from the ferry into the crowd.

Unsure exactly what to do except take off the Goofy head to release steam, Derby was thrilled to expose himself to the Hong Kong air.

Zhong Li had rolled on top of Mark and was straddling him, holding the sharp object to his neck.

"You're both coming with me," threatened the able bodied fighter, keeping her eyes focussed on Sethland and the point of the weapon firmly against his carotid artery. "Ripley, one advance from you and I'll open the lovely red fountain of your buddy here."

"Dude," Mark was only able to say a few words before deciding he didn't want to risk the flood of the red fountain. "It isn't a knife. I saw it on the ground. It is an INK PEN!"

He was quieted quickly as the ink pen pushed further into his artery. "It IS a pen and will easily open your big fat vein, Slimeball," spoke Zhong Li delicately.

Without her noticing, Derby had freed up his right arm from the costume and had reached into his pants pockets and found the white and black marbles. As he rubbed them together, he heard himself quote the reminder "Know the male but keep to the female."

As if a power had come from somewhere else, he felt himself going through the motions of an Olympic shot putter, and with his left hand holding his Goofy head he swung in one full circle until the gigantic head smashed up against Zhong Li's chest and right arm.

In spite of her Kung Fu training, the female was completed disarmed and thrown easily off of Mark, and the fountain pen tumbled out of her hands and away from her. Derby helped Mark to his feet, and without looking behind them, the two Americans raced into the crowd back toward the Disney park.

After Mark and Derby were thick in the crowd, Mark finally spoke.

"Man, what is going on? Those chicks are intense! Are you in some kind of trouble dude?"

Derby had been handling his balls. Black and white, revolving around each other. Instead of the warm energy they would have produced from his earlier experience with them, his hand felt as if it were submerged in cool water. Having his hand on his balls felt as if he had a fish bowl of water in his pocket.

Mark noticed a glazed look in Derby's eyes and could tell by the drooping Goofy arm of the costume that Derby had his hand in his pants.

Mark continued, "Derby, come on man! Stop playing with yourself! Tell me what is going on!"

By turning the marbles over and over and focussing on the "Yin-inside Yang-inside Yin," as Umpa had taught him, Derby was experiencing great clarity.

"Mark, our reunion is coming up, right?"

"Yeah, so?," was Mark's quick reply.

"I think we should invite all our friends who are musicians and have a jam session!," recommended Derby, as if they back on the stoop in their old stomping grounds, without a care in the world.

"I think you need to take your hands out of your pants and wake up. A little Chinese angel "she-devil" just about ripped my throat open with a fountain pen, and you want to get the gang together and play Home On the Range!"

Derby showed Mark the white and black marble by sliding his arm up through the neck hole of the Goofy costume and forcing the zipper so the heavy fur fell off of him easily. As he stepped out of the hot suit, he explained.

"These marbles are going to help you turn the corner brother. I don't need them anymore," Derby handed the white and black porcelain orbs to Mark, who took them cautiously. "I'll explain how to use them later, but right now I've got an appointment to keep with Justin Scoville! See you at the reunion. Don't forget. We're going to jam!"

With that, Derby reversed course toward the ferry and left Mark holding the balls, who was staring at them with a confused look.

Chapter Fifty Eight. Baby Talk

Baby Talk

Derby sat on the ferry in a surprisingly upbeat mood. He was actually giddy.

“Who would have guessed?,” he laughed and quizzed himself. “That being surrounded by so much turmoil and anxiety, that a person could feel as if windows, doors, passageways, tunnels, black holes, diamonds on the bottom of his souls, smaller than a bread box, bigger than a cup of cappuccino, friendsromansandcountrymen, ask not what your country can do for shoes, light switches, electrical currents, o-ho-thewellsfargowagonisacomin, were all being opened and as bad as some things can be, these are a few of my favorite things, yes folks, even though we’re not in Kansas any more and in spite of climate change and species loss, things are going to be A OK!”

Derby wondered about that last paragraph. He sort of looked at it in a kind of reverse, back-lit, back handed, back sliding, back door, back stage, back ache, back and forth, backgammon kind of way. “Does that make any sense ‘tall?”

Then he even answered himself, “You talking to me?”

Right then he felt a sweet little tap on his shoulder.

Once he realized he was in no danger, he greeted her politely.

“Tsu Yen? Where is your accomplice?,” he asked, referring to Zhong Li. “Don’t tell me, she can’t find her fountain pen?”

Tsu Yen seemed very tender and apologetic. “You not unlay san. We no eva mean to hurl you. All Zhong Li wan waus fo you to sign,” she said in the best English she could manage.

“Sign? You mean like…Sign Ze Paipa Oh Man?,” said Derby, showing his customary weakness for old Cheech and Chong material.

“We neva eva wan to hurl you,” Tsu Yen repeated.

“Honey comb,” started Derby in his all sweetness and light sentimentality. “First of all. It isn’t HURL you. To hurl someone means to throw them. Or another relatively new meaning since Dana Carvey and  Mike Meyers created Wayne’s World, to hurl means to puke.”

Tsu Yen expressed confusion by Derby’s words.

“Puke,” he continued, “You know, vomit, throw-up, lose your cookies, worship the porcelain goddess, blow chunks, burl, barf, bring back the groceries, lurch, spew, upchuck, Ralph, regurgitate, chunder…”

After a pause and his own conviction Tsu Yen didn’t have a clue what the hell he was talking about, he continued anyway, being so accustomed to the fact that most of the time no body understood anything he was trying to say anyway.

“So it isn’t that you Neva Wan to Hurl ME. Hurt. Hurt. H-U-R-T, HURT! You Neva Wan to Hurt me!,”

“Velly goo. Yes. You righ. You eeg zack lee righ. We no wan to hurl you,” confirmed Tsu Yen.

As the ferry cut through the bay, away from the sandy beaches of Lantau Island, Derby instinctively felt he was moving back. Back in time. Back toward normalcy. Back to central Hong Kong and a chance to return to the US. Back to a life with more contentment and less uncertainty.

“Misla Duhbey.”

Tsu Yen spoke softly. Suddenly when Derby looked at her she looked like a porcelain doll. Or as if she was made of precious origami paper. She wasn’t made up in customary Asian formal wear or accented with the cosmetics of a Geisha Girl, but her movements were marked by that respectful presence. “Is she Japanese?,” Derby found himself wondering.

“May I caw yo Misla Duhbey?,” she repeated cautiously.

The crowd of people on the ferry was a mixed bunch of international travelers. There were as many Americans as Europeans. Japanese travelers also were numerous, as were peoples from Thailand, Indonesia and the Mideast.

Even though Lantau was home to such populated towns as Mui Wo and Tai O, the ferry was mostly used by travelers visiting Disneyland. Derby and Tsu Yen were aboard the regular ferry, not the fast one, so the total travel time before they’d reach Central Pier was approximately an hour.

“Yes, Tsu Yen, you may,” Derby replied.

“Misla Duhbey…I sowwy,” here she blushed. You could imagine her hiding her face behind a decorated folding paper fan. “I weally a fwaid to ass yo, deez kwes ton.”

Derby was charmed by Tsu Yen and as suddenly as his euphoria about returning home had swept over him, he was once again captivated by a desire to explore feelings for a beautiful female.

“It is OK Tsu Yen. Speak freely,” he assured her.

Tsu Yen looked away as if she was speaking to one of the other passengers nearby.

“Missla Duhbey. We ul yo make a baby wif me?” As soon as she had spoken these words, she moved her head back toward Derby to make eye contact quickly, and then gently looked down, as if she was ashamed to have said what she said.

In spite of Derby’s weakness to be so easily attracted to beautiful women, he was totally unprepared for the question. He reached in his pocket for the comfort of the white and black marbles and realized he had given them to Mark. “Guess I wasn’t quite prepared to part with those magic balls yet!,” he thought to himself.

In place of using the marbles in his hands, he imagined turning them over. White around black, both smooth and round, revolving around each other. First the black one between his thumb and first finger, giving gentle pressure before folding it under so the white was there and the pressure and focus was on….

As he imagined turning the marbles it hit him all at once. Even though he had been so carefully instructed by Fredalnte that the white marble was pure Yang and the black marble was pure Yin, until now, Derby hadn't grasped the full impact of their significance.  But now, when he pretended to turn the smooth shiny orbs over and over, he was under the energy influence of Yang and Yin as he imitated the gestures of turning the two marbles in his fingers.

So as he felt the white marble between his thumb and first finger, he felt the burning sun of Yang. As the black marble seemed to land back in the prime spot, the cool wet calm of the moon came in to play.

“Why Tsu Yen would you say such a thing? We hardly know one another and I’m a happily married man?,” said Derby to the life-size, living, breathing, porcelain doll, now standing within inches of his body, so close that as the black marble came back into his imagination, he would swear that the hairs on their bodies stretched out toward each other.

“I weally not know Misla Duhbey, why,” she slowly raised her head back so that their eyes met.

Turning the marbles in his imagination, Derby was able to exercise some modicum of control. But instead of “knowing the male and keeping to the female” he felt a burning from the imaginary marbles, just as they had when he originally handled them.

They had generated enough heat that he felt compelled to put them away. As he stuck the imaginary marbles back into his pocket, he also threw away his limited self control. Thoughts of Jeninqua, Bai Ling, May West, Marilyn Monroe, Dianne Lane rushed in.

Derby and Tsu Yen kissed tenderly.

Chapter Fifty Nine. Two's company. Your huz bin what?

Two's company. Your huz bin what?

As soon as he kissed her, Derby knew he was in trouble. "Was it her delicate nature? Her vulnerable attitude? Was it her innocense? Her freshness? Was it his time away from home and the extreme circumstances of this trip? All this sexual upheaval and tumultuous drama?

Tsu Yen was even more shy, now that they had kissed, and seemed to want to hide but at the same time wanted to reach out and hold Derby. For his part, Derby wasn't quite sure what he felt. For one thing, he was certain that he regretted kissing her. He also felt a sweetness for this young lady. He wanted to help her but he wasn't sure what she needed. He wanted to protect her, but he didn't know what she feared. He wanted to heal her, but he didn't know what ailed her.

"Can you tell me why you think it is important to have a child with me?," he asked her, looking around the crowd to see who else may be listening.

"It because yo is nice puhson. I wed about de chilwen. De chilwen of Zo," she replied.

"You read The Children of Zol? Well, I like you more than ever!," Derby commended her.

"Yes. Vewwy goo stoh wee. Da peep po. Dey addicted to dare ewectwonic debises. Vewwy cwevvah," she complimented.

"Well thank you Tsu Yen! I'm glad you liked it. Actually, when I started the story, that was all the story line I had. But as it unfolded, I let the story take me along and I was as surprised as any readers may have been," he explained. "I knew of the surprise ending from the beginning, but most of the details of the story wrote themselves as I watched the words appear on the screen."

"So do yo know how dis stoh wee ends? De stoh wee of my baby?," Tsu Yen asked cautiously.

"Well no my dear. How would I know that? I'm standing here on a crowded ferry, nearing the Central Pier of Hong Kong, with a beautiful young lady," Derby answered, as he looked questionably at Tsu Yen for a clue. "Why would you imagine that I would know anything about your life or your future life involving children?"

"Be cos. Yo a magico man. A bum bul bee boy. Yes, yo a bum bul bee," she replied.

"A bumble bee? Why do you call me that?," Derby asked.

"A bum bul bee aw weez buzzing. Buzz buzz. Busy bee. Sticking his nose in da fwowahs. Taking out dah nectuh. Den putting dah nectuh in uhva fwowahs. Making nate tuh be fuw ov cuh wa. Boo tiful cuh wa. Aw de cuh wa's of dah wain bow."

"Well thank you Tsu Yen! That is lovely," Derby responded as if surprised to hear her analysis. "And so you thought maybe I should fertilize your flower too?"

This comment made her blush and she tried to hide her eyes.

"Misla Duhbe. Pweez no make fun do me. I know my we quess fo yo is vewwy un use full...un unisfull...un use pital...," she struggled to find the right word.

"Unusual? Yes," Derby agreed, "asking me to be the father of your child is unusual. Especially for someone who tried to kidnap me and whose partner was going to rip open my friend's throat with a fountain pen. And now who stands here on a crowded ferry, bound for the Central Pier in Hong Kong, surrounded by an international crowd. (Feels like a movie set of a complex romance tragedy film). Yes, indeed, we could agree, a very unusual request!"

"Misla Duhbey. I no tewwo yo aww. Deh is moh Misla Duhbey," she continued. "I sowwy to say. Deh is moh."

"Honestly Tsu Yen. I've had a body part (and a fairly important one for a man) turned into a huge flying red dragon. I've fallen in love with a beautiful woman (keep in mind I'm a married man) who turns out to be an aspect of myself. This I discovered after living in a bottle for a month, trapped in her body, never knowing I lived above an apartment no bigger than a shoe, and nearly had my head cut off."

Here Derby paused to see if she was paying attention. He noticed her mouth was open and her eyes were wide, and he recognized a character who wasn't much more aware of her complex surroundings than his own daughter who would turn fourteen in just a few days.

"So, you needn't fear that whatever you tell me," he continued, "will be hard for me to handle."

"OK, Misla Duhbe. Tank yo," she bowed and he knew she was Japanese. She bowed again. "Tank yo Misla Duhbe, Tank yo. My huz bin. He awso want yo to be my son's papa."

Chapter Sixty. The Honeymoon

The Honeymoon

Planetary Publishing was having a "soft" year. Sales were down. New releases  were delayed.  Readers were complaining that the publisher wasn't turning out stories with enough "punch." Known for finding authors who flew under the radar of mainstream fiction, much of their success had come from quirky, first time novels, from unknown writer's, usually who hadn't been published prior to being picked up by PP.

Derby had briefly researched the independent publisher, a huge firm,  based in New York City, after being contacted by them in the Spring of last year. The Ripleys had been struggling financially, after a series of set-backs, so of course the prospect of being paid for his writing was a thrilling proposition.

PP started making deals in Hong Kong about a decade ago because the printing costs were significantly less to produce the standard paperback of 85 thousand to 100 thousand words in China, compared to printing the same book in the US. He had read this and other details about the publisher and the man at the helm of the firm that had contacted him. What Derby didn't know is that Justin Scoville meant business.

When Scoville found a story and a writer he liked, he wasted no time. Within weeks he brought the writer to Hong Kong. As soon as the deal was made, he set his team in motion on the legal details and contracts, promotion schedules, editing, movie rights, PR, speaking engagements, radio tours, book signings.  Cases of books were shipped from Guangzhou, China within three weeks of the contract being signed.

So, when Derby Joshua Clearwater Ripley wasn't delivered as planned last Spring, Scoville would have typically ordered an investigation. This wouldn't have been the first time one of PP's unknown writers mysteriously disappeared prior to showing up at a scheduled first meeting with Scoville and his crack team. But on that fateful Spring day in the Pearl of the Orient, when Derby woke up in the suite of the luxurious Peninsula Hotel, Justin Scoville had found himself in his own unexpected adventure.

Scoville wasn't sitting impatiently, looking at his watch and wondering where his new man, Derby Ripley was, because he was absent from the meeting place as well. Even though both men were on the same property, neither would make their scheduled meeting to discuss the publication of The Children of Zol.

Instead of Scoville being downstairs at the Peninsula Hotel, in the business lounge, reserved exclusively for VIP meetings of this nature, he was lounging upstairs in an apartment, overlooking the Bay. Coincidentally, Derby was just next door, also enjoying the view (or not enjoying it, depending how you remember it). Had Scoville been downstairs and had Derby been more than an hour late, the Planetary Publishing founder would have wasted no time in dispatching a covert team of commandos to find him.

Rare Flesh, Inc, the second largest independent publisher of fantasy and unusual first novels, operated in very non-conventional ways. So certain would Scoville have been that Rare Flesh was behind the plot of a missing Derby, he wouldn't have hesitated to flex the muscle of his publishing empire, to rescue his new author, and leave Rare Flesh to deal with the dust and rubble of the skirmish.

It wasn't the least bit unusual for a new writer of a Rare Flesh novel to sign a contract with very little financial benefit for the author. By the time Rare Flesh had tricked their kidnapped victims into believing that Up is Down and the speed of light isn't actually related to speed or light, the writers usually would prefer to give away their story than to stay trapped in bizarre circumstances and psychedelic adventures.

But no walls were being stormed, no publishing wars were being fought on that morning. Justin Scoville had met a beautiful young Japanese princess just days before and suddenly his publishing empire was left unattended. Instead of war, Justin was making love to his new bride, Tsu Yen.

Chapter Sixty One. Scoville

Scoville

Justin Scoville was intense. At 66 you may have mistook his body for an athlete's of 45. He had a full head of hair, not white, but light, still showing remnants of his blonde hair he had since childhood.

When he looked at you, you felt the piercing energy of his great intellect. But there was more than just intelligence in his eyes, there was a connection to the infinite. When Justin Scoville looked at you, you either surrendered or rebelled. And if you rebelled, you knew your time was limited.

Of those who surrendered, no one ever got in. He would trap everyone in the outer fringes of his personality, compliant to his needs and satisfying them with scraps of charity, but never allowing them to touch his feelings or to know the contents of his heart.

Born Justin Bryce Scoville to Anita and Jonathan Boyce Scoville, and raised in Topeka, Kansas. His father was a carpenter who seldom talked about his experiences, especially of World War II, when he flew P50's and P41's as a fighter pilot. Justin never really got to know his father but he studied him like a chemistry equation.

Justin's mother was a farm girl, Anita Dunhaven, who fell in love with his father when she was 14. She knew Jonathan Scoville since she was a little girl. It seemed everyone knew everyone in Topeka in 1938, the year Jonathan entered her life. She was nine. He was 17 and would have been a senior at Topeka High, except he finished the academic requirements of graduation by the time he was 15. When he was 17 he opened Lime Rite, a small lemonade and limeade shop in old man Stellar's drug store, on the corner of 5th and Persimmons.

Anita will never lose that movie in her head of Jonathan Scoville squeezing those lemons (five large or six medium) and mashing the pulp with the sugar. He made an art form of it. All the kids in town would lay out their nickels for one of Jonathan's fresh lemon or limeades.

Anita's sister Sally furnished the love connection to "Jon." It was when she was 17 and Jon was 22.  He was back from the war, a hero. Anita was 14. Jon came over to pick up Sally for a date in a shiny 1939 Nash. Seemed to be a stretch limo to Anita. She hadn't understood that Jon, the war hero...the fighter pilot back from China, after being shot down twice and being declared dead by the newspapers, was Jon the lemonade God from Stellar's Drug.

She watched from the window as he jumped from the Nash and threw on his suit coat. He didn't put his arms in the jacket.  He just wore it on his shoulders. With one hand he held the jacket closed and with his other hand he adjusted the brim of his Fedora. He stood crossed armed, a cigarette burning between the fingers of his right hand, and the sleeves of his coat hanging down, like a Hollywood tycoon. "Yes," she thought right then from the window. "This is the man I'll marry."

Justin adored his father, though he never got much attention from him. His father was a symbol of strength and virtue to him, regardless that many people thought Jonathan Scoville was a bitter, mean, and angry man, with an oversized ego and an undersized heart. What Justin learned from Jonathan was how to keep the upper hand in any deal, business or personal. "Always take the first punch son," was his father's advice. "Hit 'em hard, and between the eyes. You don't want them to get back up."

Justin was a popular boy in school. He learned to get along with all the distinct groups of kids at Topeka High. There were the athletes who hung out with the girls in the pep squad and cheerleaders. That group were the "jocks." There were the black leather jacket bunch, known for taking shop class, getting in fights and slicking their hair back. Those were "greasers." There was the hippie types that smoked dope and took acid and danced around spaced out in the Lyndon Park on Sundays in their bright colored bell bottoms and layered dresses and flowers in their hair. They were "freaks." Then there were scattered others, not strictly categorized, like the intellectuals (national honor society types), the nerds (shirt pocket protectors, thick glasses), farm kids (red necks) and momma's boys and girls (goodie-goodies).

Justin Scoville was a chameleon, changing his colors, however it would enable him to get the girl or the award that attracted his attention. Known as a dancer and a class clown, he was easily picked out in the crowd by the twinkle in his eye.

His nonchalance, happy-go-lucky attitude changed after he returned from his three years in the US Army. He came back to Topeka, determined to earn his fortune.

Chapter Sixty Two. Seventeen days and change

Seventeen days and change

For exactly seventeen days, six hours, thirty-three minutes and to the tune of one hundred eighty thousand dollars, Justin Scoville enjoyed the amenities of the Hong Kong Peninsula Hotel and his shining, blushing bride Tsu Yen.

At day seventeen, hour four,  he allowed their first visitor, after not accepting one call or one intrusion other than room service for seventeen days, three hours and fifty nine minutes. After his nap that day, which followed the lunch which followed the morning love making, which followed the breakfast, which followed the early morning love making, which had followed some sleep after the latest night love making which had followed fairly closely after some midnight love making...you get the idea...

Justin Bryce Scoville said hello to the chief financial officer of Planetary Publishing, Int'l Division, who had flown in the evening prior from New York, Roger Willis III.

"Boss," started Willis, "I know you have your reasons," he finished as he walked into the honeymoon suite. "But we're getting hit hard. At least, turn over operations. Details are slipping. Schedules aren't being kept. Arrangements aren't being handled. You hold too much, too close. And you've disappeared."

"Bullshit." All Scoville said was that. Bullshit.

He rummaged for some champaign from the freshest batch, evidence remaining as empties. He managed a glass for Willis while he took a pull from the bottle.

"Aren't you going to congratulate us Willis?," asked the boss. "Tsu Yen, please come meet Sir Roger Willis, our chief financial guru. He's come all the way from NYC!"

Tsu Yen appeared in kimono, almost in a white face, except with simple adornment of make-up so perfect she could have been born with it as a delicate complexion.

Willis turned and was able to hide his surprise and his impression of her great beauty to half of the audience, his gulp hardly noticeable to the bride, but strikingly obvious to the groom.

"Am I to understand that this is Mrs. Justin Scoville?," asked the CFO.

"Indeed you are my good and noble accountant!," bragged Scoville. "So, what dogs are barking so horribly, that Tiffany sent you on a rescue mission?," he asked, referring to Tiffany Lokasher, Justin's assistant and operations superintendent.

"What dogs?!," exclaimed Willis. "What dogs are barking horribly? Oh that is rich. I'll tell you which BIG DOGS are barking. The bankers boss. That's who. The line of credit is being called. Rare Flesh has filed suit in the supreme court. Four females, supposedly from your past have all been talking to the press about your affairs. The Post ran an article about you being dead and The Wall Street Journal has a column which has run for seven days, asserting that we've been bought out by the Chinese."

"What do you think of her Willis?," calmly asked Scoville, as he held hands with Tsu Yen and held out his arm and hers, seeking Willis's opinion.

"Boss. She's outrageous. Congratulations honey," Willis answered obediently. "But boss, please, just give me the order to fix everything and take 45 minutes to answer these simple questions we've compiled. We'll bring you everything you need to set us straight. But we'll need a little of your time."

"Tsu Yen, my love," responded Scoville. Pack your bags baby. I'm taking you to the Big Apple. "Willis, get Tiffany on the horn. Tell her to meet us at the terminal in Beijing, tomorrow night."

Justin paused as if he had just seen a ghost, then he added casually, "oh, and find out if Ripley showed up and get him to Beijing too. That boy has got a story we need to tell."

Chapter Sixty Three. Who's screwing who?

Who's screwing who?

Tiffany Lokasher, Superintendent of Operations, was thirty two years old and had joined Planetary Publishing fresh out of the University of Wisconsin at twenty two with a degree in journalism. Hired originally as an editor, she distinguished herself as and excellent writer and manuscript specialist,  but more importantly she was a great manager. After being in the company for sixteen months, she was promoted to Editorial Staff Supervisor and within a year of that moved into Operations.

Being in Operations meant you worked directly for the boss, Justin Scoville. And working for the boss meant intense hours, days and weeks. She often remembers the day she met the boss...

"Lokasher...what is that Scandinavian? How do you pronounce it?," the boss asked upon first being introduced.

"The name is German," Tiffany replied, without the least hesitation. "But there is enough English blue blood in my veins that I'd say we're more heirs to the throne of the British Empire than to the Third Reich. Lokasher, Lo-cash-er. Like it is spelled."

"Interesting," said Justin, dropping her file on his desk and sizing up her looks. Her high heels complemented her muscular calves. Her business suit started just above her knees and fit securely to her petite athletic frame. Her long brown hair was up on her head, clipped in the corporate style of a busy executive and her bangs and strands of lose hair fell around her thick brimmed eye glasses as if planned to get the attention of any males who would take the time to notice. Justin Scoville noticed everything about everyone in his company who excelled.

"Why would you mention the Third Reich just because Lokasher is German?," he probed, less interested in her answer than her body language.

Tiffany had stood erect upon meeting the boss and had barely moved or blinked since coming into his office. She learned long ago, dealing with powerful men to understand their motives before deciding to eat them for lunch.

"I thought maybe Scoville was Jewish and probably English," she answered efficiently, still not moving or flinching in the least.  "I'm new in this department and wanted to make sure that I didn't end up in the gas chamber before I had a chance to make a name for myself."

The line took him by surprise and disappointed him. "Shame, a girl so pretty with so much potential has all this anger," he thought to himself as he sat down at his desk and proceeded to handle papers, his mind racing to the nearest project at hand. "Get out," he snapped, before pushing the button to the intercom, and asking his secretary for the file he was thinking of.

Within three weeks from that meeting, Scoville had Tiffany working on every project he was personally involved in. He never intended to make her fall in love with him. He just worked her because she ran circles around everyone else. She remembered details, she was extremely efficient, punctual and organized and she knew how to get results from people. She was an "Ace." A word Scoville would have used to describe her, except he never described her.

Tiffany became Superintendent of Operations for Planetary Publishing at twenty six and had been working 80 hours a week for the last six years prior to flying to Beijing to meet her boss, who had been a bachelor since she started.

"Tiffany, this is Tsu Yen. Tsu Yen, Tiffany," casually introduced Justin to wife and personal assistant in the airport. "What's the word on Ripley?"

The women knew instinctively that only one of them would eventually win his heart. Tsu Yen bowed delicately, looking down and noticing Tiffany's Gucci pumps. Tiffany didn't give anything away while offering her hand to Tsu Yen, along with just the hint of a courteous smile.

"How do you do Tsu Yen. Please accept my hearty congratulations on your marriage to Mr. Scoville," Tiffany offered. "May you both have years of happiness in wedded bliss."

Looking up and making eye contact, Tsu Yen politely accepted Tiffany's hand, her eyes piercing Tiffany easily with a lightning current that made Tiffany shiver with fear. Tsu Yen bowed and returned the smile for a fraction of a second, long enough for her husband to be satisfied that the women would behave, and then looked down again. "Bitch," she thought to herself.

"He never showed up at your scheduled meeting," answered Tiffany about Scoville's question referring to Derby. "We think Rare Flesh has him. Here is a file on a Hong Kong drug and crime syndication called Scontandia. As far as we can tell, Scontandia has been retained by Rare Flesh. They seemed to have kidnapped him on the day of your planned meeting, from a suite in the Penninsula, but a different one than we had reserved for him. He was in room 2415."

They had been walking at a fast clip toward their scheduled connecting flight to New York but Justin stopped suddenly and turned toward Tiffany. "Twenty Four Fifteen?," he asked surprised.

"Yes Mr. Scoville. Next door to the honeymoon suite that you were staying in," she replied. "Ripley was kidnapped, with just a wall separating you and approximately fifteen feet away, while you were engaged in sexual intercourse, exactly at the moment when you were scheduled to meet with him."

Neither Scoville or Tiffany noticed Tsu Yen smiling.

Chapter Sixty Four. 210 East 61st on Fifth Avenue

210 East 61st on Fifth Avenue

From the time the Scoville entourage landed in LaGuardia in NYC and knowing for sure that Derby Joshua Clearwater Ripley was missing, Justin Scoville became a man on a mission, possessed with one job to do. Find Ripley.

This had a very adverse affect on his relationship with Tsu Yen, especially after figuring out he couldn't speak Japanese and her English was very confusing. Besides, he was back to getting his jolleys by working.

The swirl of inconveniences, distractions, irritations, set-backs, disasters (both personal and of a world in crisis), difficulties and responsibilities all added fuel for his conviction that Justin had one thing to remain focussed on, the Ripleymeister.

Umpa, Fredalnte, talking minerals, changing body parts, a man converted to a woman, supposedly an aspect of himself and living in a space smaller than the old woman's shoe...none of that was in the sights of Scoville's machine. As powerful as he and his organization was, they were no match for the mysteries of the universe. But wait...could Scoville himself be part of the puzzle? Seems like a reasonable assertion in the complex definition of nested hierarchies.

After a week of being back from Hong Kong, Tiffany finally scheduled the meeting which Willis had been requesting with Scoville.

"Boss, what are you going to do about these chics?," Willis asked with a sense of urgency in his voice that Justin recognized as familiar and unnecessary.

"When life deals you chickens, make chicken-aide," flippantly replied Scoville nonchalantly.

"You better close up your chicken-aide stand and consider legal aid boss," returned Willis. "These women mean business. One of them has retained Sluesch, Schleem, and Schizard and Judge Yoenot has accepted their request for a hearing.

"When that the poor have cried, Yoenot hath wept," said Scoville, looking out the 20th floor window,  from their 61st Street address on the Upper East Side in Manhattan. "Ambition should be made of sterner stuff."

"Boss," said Willis, familiar with Shakespeare but not remembering Mark Antony's speech from Julius Caesar. "There is a stack of papers on my desk, a report from the private investigative firm we hired. We asked them to dig up what is likely to follow these other accusations. Eighteen other women are likely to come out of the woodwork. Keep in mind, we've also discovered that seventeen of them couldn't possibly have any basis of truth."

"Yet Sluesch, Schleem and Schizard request his ambition," continued Scoville, as if on stage and his out of focus view of the nearby towers were an attentive audience,  "and Sluesch, Schleem and Schizard are surely honorable bottom-feeders!"

With that Scoville turned instantly toward Willis with fire in his eyes. "Willis, get a fucking grip. You don't really think I'd be stupid enough to jeopardize all I've worked for on pussy do you?"

Roger dropped his head, removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Justin, I believe you. But even as a nuisance, each of these cases should be addressed. You should show yourself to the press. We need to make a statement and discredit these women!"

"If men have lost their reason, then I may as well be in bed with those women," emphatically asserted Scoville, as if arguing in court. "Bear with me...what if we take the position that we do not speak to disprove what Schlick, Schleuth and Lizard argue, but only remind people what the people themselves already know. What judgement has fled to brutish beasts, we can not retrieve. The public did all love us once, not without cause. Let the slime slither in their disgusting depravity and reckless imaginations. And let us resolve to shine God's light wherever darkness dwells!"

As Willis was walking out of Scoville's office, he nodded quickly to Tiffany who was coming in for her 2:00 o'clock and then muttered under his breath, "Nice speech ass-hole. I'm not a CFO, I'm a fucking errand boy."

Chapter Sixty Five. Tiffany Lokasher

Tiffany Lokasher

Tiffany reviewed the week's status of projects. She moved through the list as if skiing an obstacle course she's practiced on for years, smoothly avoiding the flags and swiftly speeding to the bottom with precision and vitality.

She addressed the legal and financial considerations which Willis was handling.

"The cases of the four women continue to gather momentum and one of them has retained Rare Flesh's law firm, SS&S." Tiffany looked over at Justin who was handling a file with his left hand and operating a calculator with the other. She paused long enough for him to make eye contact which signaled that he heard everything she was saying.

She continuted,  "The line of credit has been renegotiated temporarily by Willis, operating under the procedure you submitted through Honklestein (Justin's personal and business attorney). The Wall Street Journal and the Times both have submitted official apologies and issued corrections in the most recent editions. Sales of The Pink are up seven percent from last week and The Scarlett E-mail is due to be released a week ahead of schedule."

"Get me a meeting with this...," he referred to the file, "Bai Ling Johnson, the Hong Kong stock broker who operates out of the third floor office above that laundry. The lady Stumps uncovered and thinks she must have some connection with Ripley's disappearance. (Brad Stumps was the in-house detective for Planetary Publishing and also Scoville's private dick).

"Will there be anything else Mr. Scoville?," Tiffany asked.

"No, that will be all. Wait. One other thing. Call Tsu Yen," Justin looked over to take note of Tiffany's body language. Tiffany showed no sign of anything but continued to add the instructions to her note pad with her pen.

"I want you to take her to breakfast tomorrow," Scoville continued, staring intently at the pressure Tiffany used on the pen and paper, to see if she would give any clue of her emotions. "Tell her I need to put her on the pay roll and send her back to Hong Kong. Ask her if she's ever been to Disneyland. Explain to her that you will be her supervisor and that she is to do precisely what you tell her to do. Explain that I'm very busy and that I will communicate through you for the next twelve months and that she is to have no communication with me except through you."

Justin watched Tiffany's right hand chop his words into precise succinct symbols of short hand. She had finished writing what he said within a fraction of a second of his completing his sentence and her wrist of the right hand and fingers holding the pen gave no signal that she was connected by anything except of wires and cold water, a robot of efficiency. She looked up and without blinking asked, "anything else Mr. Scoville?"

"Yes. You look nice today. That will be all."

Chapter Sixty Six. Smiling Hearts

Smiling Hearts

Nancy Jasper, the lead flight attendant on Pan Fran flight 2013 to Hong Kong was accustomed to dealing with surprise. Staying calm and cool were her trademarks. The other members of the crew would always defer to Nancy on the best way to handle unexpected circumstances that would occur on the long flight between New York and Hong Kong.

"Yes, I understand Mr. Scoville," Nancy assured her passenger. Justin Scoville was an elite member of the Pan Fran International Club. "Of course we know you make this trip on a regular basis," the lead hostess continued. "It's just that Bai Ling Johnson happens to be on this flight. So after you paged me to confirm the meeting upon our arrival with Ms. Johnson, I'm trying to explain that it won't be necessary."

"She's on this flight? Today? She's on this plane?," Justin struggled to believe what he was hearing.

"Yes Mr. Scoville, she's in 2A," Nancy informed him.

Bai Ling seemed to be anything other than the assistant Derby had seen for the first time above the laundry, who had welcomed him and young Opie and two intriguing rodents. That Bai Ling seemed to be a "granddaughter" type to an imposing Umpa, the smiling Buddha.

The Bai Ling Johnson in seat 2A on Pan Fran flight 2013 to Hong Kong was a business woman, focussed on the work she was processing on her laptop. The tray, and refreshments and pillow and everything else which surrounded her seemed to be organized as part of her traveling office, situated as each parcel was next to her brief case, books and other essential tools of a busy traveling executive.

When Nancy Jasper whispered to her a detail about another passenger requesting to speak to her, Bai Ling stopped without the least agitation and looked at the head flight attendant.

"Yes Ms. Jasper. Thank you," said Bai Ling with precise formality and courtesy. "I've enjoyed observing him since we left New York. Would you mind inviting Mr. Scoville to join me back in coach in seats 64D and E? They're vacant but we've purchased them both. I'll explain to him once we're rearranged why it is necessary to have our meeting there instead of in our first class cabin."

The staff and crew of Pan Fran Airlines are trained and "groomed" on handling seating arrangements and circumstances which call for discreet protocol. Nancy Jasper, more than the rest of the crew, was familiar with unusual requests from her extravagant and, often times, powerful and eccentric clientele.

But a demand by a passenger in first class for a total "sweep" of the rear cabin required that she notify the captain immediately.

"Yes Captain," said a calm and collected Nancy Jasper to the ranking officer of flight 2013, who was himself seated at the Number One Pilot position in the cockpit. "Mr. Scoville (our Vernon Scoville from New York) has requested a total sweep of Cabin Five because another passenger, Bai Ling Johnson (2A) has purchased two seats in the rear to be able to meet privately, but in coach, with Mr. Scoville."

Nancy's eyes focussed on the bumbling fingers of another flight attendant who was having difficulty with the coffee maker in the forward galley. She listened to a conversation of another passenger speaking to a stranger near the restroom adjacent and aft to the galley. She made a mental note that in three minutes it was time to take the warming cloths from the steamer.

After receiving the instructions from the Captain, she efficiently hung up the receiver, politely demonstrated the lever on the coffee maker for the other attendant, corrected the passenger about the arrival time which seemed to relieve the stranger who had shown alarm and disengaged the beeper on the steamer which would have sounded in 22 seconds, had she not done so.

"Mr. Scoville," greeted Nancy, without showing any sign of anxiety. "The Captain has requested your presence in the cockpit. I didn't know you were certified as a commercial pilot. I'll be happy to escort you to the bow when you're ready sir."

"Damnit Justin," argued Captain "Ronnie" Rollo, as if he were addressing his first mate. "We can't turn this ship upside down because you have a heart-on for a skirt in first class, who happened to buy two seats in coach! Just turn her down! Explain that you prefer to meet where you're seated or on port side near her, or in the galley or after we land!"

"Ronnie," explained Scoville, who seemed to be talking to his younger brother. "Man, I've got a feeling about this chic. This is weird. When I looked over at her, I swear I heard her plain as day, as if she was sitting next to me!"

Captain Rollo switched the controller to auto pilot and gestured to the first mate to assume the Number One position. Justin continued:

"She didn't move her lips but I heard her say...Umpa is expecting you. We will initiate you in the Tao! Now what the fuck is all that about! And you better get whoever you need on the blow horn and find out  who the fuck is in 2A and what the hell is going on here. I suggest you tear Cabin 5 apart. I don't have a good feeling about this!"

Captain Rollo wasn't wet behind the ears. Scoville may think that he's got a little brother flying this puppy, but Ronnie Rollo knows every inch of every Airbus 380-800 in the air or on the ground. He also knows how disruptive it would be to "sweep" an entire cabin mid-flight.

"Not going to happen Justin. Please don't press this," Rollo chose his words carefully. "We appreciate your business and you know how much I respect you personally and admire you as a friend, but I have to say Negative on this one. Find another way to meet with that bitch. We've got a community of 743 passengers and a crew of 42. If you don't mind, I'd like all 785 of us to land with big smiles on our faces while we keep the drama to a minimum."

When Ronnie Rollo heard a voice in his headset, he nonchalantly raised the left ear piece to hear the transmission more clearly. Justin Scoville could see the color go out of his friend's face when he watched the captain listen to the voice say, "Feel under your seat and remove the document taped there."

"What is it?," Scoville asked as he watched the captain mechanically unstrap a folded paper from his seat and unfold it to read what it said.

"It's a CLEAN report," said the captain with a shocked look on his face, unable to hide his disbelief of what he was looking at.

"What the fuck is a clean report," asked Justin Scoville, who was showing signs of nerves he wasn't familiar with.

"A manifest and high security background check on all 115 passengers in Cabin Five. I can tell you every relative and every arrest and every fucking ear ache of every cock sucker sitting back there. I can also tell you the life-cycle of every piece of furniture and every fabric maker and every time someone puked on one of those fucking seat cushions. I've never seen one as complete and would have called you a liar if you would have told me that such a report is even possible to compile."

"Let me see that mother fucker," said Scoville, nearly shaking at this point.

Turning the pages like they displayed a roster of future winners at a horse track, Scoville sped through them and back over it two more times before asking, "well how in the hell could we know if it is genuine?"

"The algorithm on the top left," replied the captain, with the same distant glazed look he had since hearing the voice on the headset. "Coded by my commander on the morning of our take-off. Impossible that it hasn't been verified. No one knows that code. We get them in briefing the day before each flight."

"Who talked to you on the headset?," asked Scoville, visibly disturbed and feeling vulnerable and out of control, not accustomed to having his ass handed to him by someone more powerful.

"Said his name was Umpa. Assured me that all the passengers and crew would be smiling with happy hearts when we arrive in Hong Kong.

Chapter Sixty Seven. Tao Love

Tao Love

She talked and the words danced in the air like glistening icicles until they formed bubbles that ascended and floated to heaven. Her eyes were captivating. "Green? Hazel? Sometimes green...sometimes hazel...can Asians have green eyes? Her last name is Johnson. Must be from a parent. So beautiful...."

Bai Ling Johnson was talking about something. About Yan and Ying or being rooted in the ground of being or something. Her voice was melodic and harmonic and charming and peaceful. Her lips pressed softly and formed each word succintly. Her skin was pure and fair. She radiated a gentle energy. Justin Scoville was there listening. Trying with all his power to concentrate on the meaning of whatever it was she was saying. But her song was too powerful as music, so he let himself be swept away by the melody and harmony as he watched the words as some inexplicable art form, dancing as a vision of icicles and bubbles.

"And so the hexagram describes your situation as dangerous and unavoidable." Bai Ling continued to inform Scoville. Lesson upon lesson, exactly as Umpa had prepared her to do. "To be in accord with the times, you are told to VENTURE and FALL!"

Justin heard the words. He watched them formed on her lips and escape. Each shining and bright and carefully formed. Clear and glistening and then rounding and forming rubbery wet bubbles, gradually diminishing until they were so light, they would float away, followed by other shiny crystals, that in turn would form irradescent orbs, and on and on, her song making a vision of dancing elements.

"The I-Ching was not written for fortune tellers and magicians," she explained. "We all are well informed of what fortunes we stumble upon and we all have magic power beyond our faintest idea."

The faintest idea? Justin Scoville didn't have the faintest idea what the 29th hexagram of the I-Ching meant or could mean, or what it followed or what it preceded or what the I-Ching was for that matter, or why he was seated in 64D, being hypnotised by a Smiling Buddha's apprentice. All he knew was that he no longer had any notion of fear or worry or anger or sadness or judgement.

"The reason we had to come back here, to Cabin Five," said Bai Ling, "is because of the energy which surrounds us here, compared to the energy we would have faced in First Class. You see, here, you're able to loosen the shackles of your imprisonment."

Bai Ling paused to watch for the reaction from her audience.

For Justin, the words were just a dance of bubbles and crystals. He sat smiling, contented as a puppy dog that had settled down for a nap after a good romp and play.

"Mr. Scoville. Do you understand?," she probed. "Do you know what I mean about your imprisonment and your shackles?"

All smiles and puppy dog.

"Why are you smiling Mr. Scoville?," Bai Ling persisted. "This is important. We've gone to great lengths to make sure that the atmosphere would be conducive to your advancement in the Tao."

Bubbles and ice crystals floating happily to heaven.

"Really Mr. Scoville," insisted Bai Ling. "I really need you to stop smiling and listen to me!"

Happy shining ice crystals turning to glistening floating orbs, floating happily up, up and away.

Finally exasperated Bai Ling just stopped and looked at Justin Scoville. He had such a distinctive jaw. And when she looked into his eyes she noticed something she hadn't before. In fact, when she looked in to his eyes she saw something she had never seen in anyone's eyes, as far as she could remember.

"What is that," she wondered to herself as she stared deeply into the eyes of Justin Scoville, the man. The eyes of the rich and powerful publisher who was accustomed to people succumbing to his power. But now she saw them simply as the eyes of a man. A man who seemed to be connected to something, which strangely reminded her of Umpa. 

"Yes," she thought. "His eyes are true. This man is good. This man is fair."

"Ms. Johnson," spoke Justin Scoville. "May I have this dance?"

Chapter Sixty Eight. Wumpa Wumpa

Wumpa Wumpa

Isn't it funny how the universe seems to arrange circumstances that, when observed from the center of the circumstance, seems to be impossible to be coincidence, because there is some grand joke to the complex structure of it all? Sort of like, "Oh, so you were feeling sorry for yourself until you realized that you've written the script to the play you were watching, and once you discover that, you can't feel sorry for yourself anymore, although you can feel a little guilty.

And you're totally blown away by how funny you are after all, because the crowd is having a blast, and you have to admit, it is a damn clever plot...and then you go, "Wait a minute. If I wrote the script and I am sitting here in the audience watching the play, and now I'm involved in some sort of double or triple bluff because I'm observing this scene of me observing the play, who the hell is the producer and who is the director, and Jesus Joseph Mary, God is one helluva funny guy!"

This is how I feel now, courteous reader, as I sit watching you watching me and stare at this blinking cursor, after reminding myself where we left poor Derby last. Because I just reacquainted myself with the circumstance of him kissing Tsu Yen. You may recall that he no longer had the black and white marbles in his pocket and realized he still had more practicing to do before he was capable of steering the horse he was sitting atop of.

If all of that mixed symbolism is too confusing, the simple way of putting it is that, were he able to balance the Yin and Yang within himself, he probably wouldn't have given in to the urge of kissing the beautiful young Asian princess.

Here is what Derby would have said as the continuation of Chapter Fifty Nine:

"What in the heaven's name are you talking about, that your husband wants me to be your son's father?!," Derby replied to Tsu Yen's suggestion. "You and your friend attacked me and if it hadn't been for my friend Mark Sethlang you and your Kung Fu fighting partner seemed to be leading me to some unpleasant demise?"

Then immediately following that, we learn in Chapter Sixty that Tsu Yen is married to Justin Scoville, the wealthy publisher who had arranged to bring Derby to Hong Kong in the first place and now she just told Derby that her husband wants HER to have DERBY'S son!!!!

And to complicate matters more, Justin Scoville himself, in the chapter before this one seems to be falling for Bai Ling, Umpa's pretty assistant and Bai Ling is feeling a little burn herself, down in tickle town. Here's what she was saying to herself after Scoville suggested that they dance:

"He's either got one heck of a rocket in his pocket or this Hunkahunka is feeling a little frisky, and I've got to admit my fountains are on.  And why in the world do I feel like riding the slip-and-slide all of a sudden, and those crazy American's, now I know why the name brand is Whamo!"

So you see what I mean, my most cherished asset--rare Oats Reader--everything is connected and none of us are here by accident. You're reading this, at this exact moment for a reason, just as I too am a player in your world, just as you're important in mine!

So let us return to the unfortunate psycho drama of Derby Doobie and see what strange phenomena we'll discover back in Hong Kong Harbor.

"Yes Misla Duhbey, my huz bin wumpa yo to wumpa me. You wumpa wumpa Misla Duhbey?," said Tsu Yen, totally confusing the hell out of our poor world traveler.

"No me NO wumpa wumpa!," exclaimed a frustrated Derby, wishing he still had some marbles to play with, feeling vulnerable and confused and a tad excited, because wumpa wumpa sounds enough like making whoopie, and God he WAS horny, he had to admit, and sheesh b'Jesus she's a foxy little thing...

"I don't want to wumpa or bumpa or to do the hoochie coo," he continued. "I'm getting off this boat and getting as far the hell away from you as I can, just as fast as I can."

At this point he had both hands in opposite pockets, pushing down deep enough in the empty wells as if the pressure of pushing his hands down in them would dig up some marbles. He also admitted that having his hands in pockets might accomplish the same thing as strapping his arms behind his back so he wouldn't give in to the growing temptation to grab her passionately and make out with her on the spot, even going so far as to make a little Japanese embryo right on the deck of the Disney shuttle.

Tsu Yen tenderly wrapped her sweet small palm around his forearm and slid her hand down in to the pocket to grasp his hand. "Misla Duhbey, yo no want makey baby boy wif me?"

She leaned in and then on tippie toes moved her mouth within a whisker of his mustache, and as his relaxed neck was falling and the moisture of her round lips was magnetized by the humidity of his saliva, he pulled himself away.

With both his hands firmly around her elbows he announced, "No. Stop. I don't know what game you're playing or who your husband is or why a young pretty thing like you wants anything to do with an old grouchy guy like me. I don't know why in the world "Momma Told Me Not to Come," is playing on the loud speaker, just as they're announcing for all of us to deboard the vessel. But No. No Wumpa Wumpa. No bouncing baby frolick making. No sticky Mr. Sticky in Missy Stinky or any of your other temptations. No. No. No!

When a black marble struck him in the forehead, from the sling shot of an unidentified person in the crowd of strangers, Derby Joshua Clearwater wouldn't have known whether it was black or white, whether it was the stone of David or whether the sky was falling. He fell flat on his face at the feet of pretty Tsu Yen.

"Some wha," Tsu Yen pleaded, kneeling at the unconscious body of her future son's father. "Help me. Misla Duhbey have bin shot!"

Chapter Sixty Nine. How do you take your coffee?

How do you take your coffee?

Tiffany Lokasher sat facing the hostess stand at the Continental Inn. It was a habit she inherited from her father. "Never sit with your back to the door. You give up your chance to react to any harm that may be coming your way," he had taught her.

Justin Scoville's chief of operations had arranged breakfast with Tsu Yen as her boss had instructed her to do. She assumed Mr. Scoville had put her in the position of power over his new blushing bride because it was his chief of operations he loved, and not this upstart Asian "temptress."

In Tiffany Lokasher's eyes, Tsu Yen had no pedigree, no earthly connection to the wealthy publisher, no right to be in his world, and nothing to offer except slanted eyes, and a squeeky accent. "Let's see how she likes being in exile," she thought to herself, anticipating her boss's instructions to send his wife back to Hong Kong and for her to communicate only through Tiffany for the next year.

Tsu Yen struggled to keep still. Having her back to the door was nearly excruciating to her until she remembered her Kung Fu teacher's words, "It isn't circumstance you should fear but your own lack of control over your emotions." Then she cooled herself down and looked for some point of reflection so she could see whatever was behind her. She found it in the shiny paper towel dispenser near the dish station, and when she recognized the calm scene behind her, she became calm herself.

She knew from the first moment meeting Tiffany Lokasher, when she had been introduced in Beijing by her husband, that a rivalry was unavoidable. But she also had determined that the skinny American was no match for her, only a nuisance.

"Mr. Scoville has asked me to act as a liaison," said Tiffany Lokasher as she nodded in the affirmative to the waitress who had signaled the question, "Coffee?"

She continued, "I've arranged for your return to Hong Kong. You shall have no direct contact with him. I will be your connection to your husband. All of your needs which will require his support will have to be communicated to me and I will provide them to you according to Mr. Scoville's instructions. You are to leave this afternoon. Yes, cream please."

"Hot tea pweese," said Tsu Yen to the waitress, who was unable to control her shaking hand as she poured the tea. The power radiating from the two females at her table was more than she was able to handle.

"Wahwey welww Ms. Wokashah. No pwobwem," assented Tsu Yen calmly as she took the first sip of her tea, using both hands. Then after replacing the cup to the saucer carefully so that not a sound was made when the two pieces of porcelain aligned, she continued, just as carefully, "and what of my caw-nol needs Ms. Wokashah, we ahl yo awso take cay-ah off dose too?"

"Excuse me," replied Tiffany, twisting her neck slightly so that she could hear the word again, not understanding Tsu Yen's pronunciation of the word carnal.


"I say, how yo tink yo going to take cay-ah off my bed woom habits, Miss Wokashah," said Tsu Yen upon completing the sipping ceremony, exactly as she had done previously. "Yo know a bwide has needs in that ahweah. Is daht a fay-ah kwees ton?," she asked.

Tsu Yen examined the reflexes of her rival and recorded Tiffany's reaction as a mental note.

"Excellent," she said to herself, anticipating how to use it as leverage in the final battle with her ill equipped rival.

"I'm sure a woman with your predisposition and desires," said Tiffany slyly, "has enough experience to have many clients who would satisfy her urges. Perhaps you've even acquired previous marketing skills. I'm sure a well placed classified ad in the Hong Kong newspapers would serve your needs perfectly."

"Absorb or deflect." Tsu Yen's teacher would always say.

"Chahming Miss Wokashah," replied Tsu Yen in between sips of tea.  "But no my ek spee wee unts is wauvah wimited. Justin is my own wee wuv.  But I can tewl yo speak wiff au tor itee as secwetawy. My fuhwst comm mune ee ka shawn wiff my huzbin is to con grat u wate him on his puh son al hoarw."

When the hot coffee splashed on her face, thrown from the cup of the angry operations officer sitting across from her, Tsu Yen sat stoicly, without flinching or drawing back in the least, as if she were a shiny mirror or brick wall.

Tiffany regretted it instantly and realized that she was overpowered by a superior adversary. Without wiping the dripping coffee from her chin or hair Tsu Yen took another sip of her tea and then tested the flavor on her lips.

"Is an ecksee went coffee tay suhve at Contin neentow Inn. Tank you fo dee sampawl."

Tiffany pushed the packet forward on the table which contained the tickets and travel papers for Tsu Yen's return to Hong Kong and left flustered, without paying the check.

Tsu Yen took a crisp one hundred dollar bill from her purse and left it on the table. As she left, the coffee was still dripping off of her but she walked past the staring crowd as if showing off the latest designs from Paris.

Chapter Seventy. I'm so happy we had this time together

I'm so happy we had this time together

My cherished reader: Do you mind if we talk amongst ourselves? Whether you join us now, at a point we'd have to declare well past mid-stream, or you've swam the distance since Derby Doobey got the call from Justin Scoville to come to Hong Kong, we'll sort things out, either way. Might make things easier to follow...what do you think?

OK then.

We know that some time in the future, from the point that Tiffany Lokasher threw the coffee at the face of Justin Scoville's Asian bride, that we find Tsu Yen later, kissing our hero and proclaiming the most audacious suggestion, that Derby helps her create a little bambino (osanago, akachan, chinomigo, youji, akanbou, bebi in Japanese).

We also know that Tsu Yen first appeared to Derby with another Asian, perhaps a Chinese woman (although we couldn't really say at this point, except we know that her Kung Fu is very well developed and she seemed to be a ruthless fighter, perhaps even a killer), and the pair of them seemed to be kidnapping him.

If it hadn't been for the generous assistance of Mark Sethlang, Derby's friend from the mainland (the good ole' You Ess of Ay that is), Derby may well be buried six feet under or anchored to the floor of the bay of Hong Kong, bubble-less, turned white with water-logness, and now home to little fishies swimming inside and out of his eyes and nose.

We really don't quite know what to think of Tiffany Lokasher yet, do we? I mean other than she could tell she was no match for Tsu Yen, and that she would spontaneously throw coffee (which we assume was still warm, if not scalding hot) in the face of her boss's wife, after telling said wife (Tsu Yen) that she was to have no contact with her husband except through her.

At this point we don't know if Tsu Yen jumps on a plane to Hong Kong with the tickets and papers that were passed to her at the Continental Inn by her coffee drinking adversary. All we know is that Tsu Yen can show incredible control of her emotions sometimes, and that at other times she seems sweet and tender. We also know that she can have coffee thrown on her and walk past inquisitive strangers with no sign of embarrassment.

Now let's look in on where we left Justin Scoville, shall we?

Well, another interesting twist isn't it? Because when we last laid eyes on him he was mesmerized, hypnotized, cannibalized, electrified  and perhaps erectified too (though we should be careful reading too much into some of the symbolism and hints--what do you think?) by another young pretty Asian woman named Bai Ling (perhaps half Asian with the last name Johnson). And to really screw us around a little, Bai Ling is Umpa's apprentice and Umpa seems to be a mighty wizard in the story.

What do we know about Justin Scoville? He's a rich and seemingly powerful publisher and lives in a world that seems to wait upon him, as if he were royalty, and perhaps even fantastically charmed with a midas touch. We know that he is the son of a fighter pilot, is himself a pilot and feels comfortable being involved in a world of intrigue and high action adventure.

We may surmise that he has integrity, or something that certainly resembles integrity, by the way he refuses to be bullied or manipulated by forces such as media or public scrutiny. Why do we guess from that, that he has admirable moral fiber?...well, because we read into it that he seems to reflect, from his heart-of-hearts, an innate "goodness."

At the same time, whenever we're presented with a character like this, we automatically have prejudice don't we? He is successful and rich. He makes money and a lot of it. He also seems to be able to get the woman of his choice.

We get the feeling that women fall in love with him easily. We still don't know if he is a schmuck or not, when it comes to honoring women. We can start to worry about him at this point because he took a bride and from everything we've been able to see at this point is that he's sent her away...yes sent her packing, with what appears to be a lack of decency enough to tell her to her face, that she must travel back to Hong Kong.

We don't know what he feels for his Chief of Operations, Tiffany Lokasher. We know that he notices her and we certainly know that she loves him, but the only thing we know about their relationship for sure, is that she works a lot and seems to handle important details of his business. We suspect that he relies on her. We also might guess that he compensates her very well financially but perhaps doesn't give her fair recognition for her contributions to his success. We actually may even think that he strings her along and allows her to be in love with him, so that he can use her to his best advantage in business. But we don't really know these things do we courteous reader? No, actually we don't. But it is fair for us to make some assumptions, just so we can try to make sense of this whacky tale, wouldn't you agree?

And what about our hero, Derby Joshua Clearwater Ripley? The poor guy has had a working over  hasn't he? Now my fine feathered friend (reader extraordinaire!), if you are new to this frolic and haven't had the benefit of the other 60,000 words or so which have lead up to these newest developments, let me just tell you:

You haven't seen much in the way of whack. That's right. See, poor Derby has been alcoholified, tricked, been given a crash course in ancient chinese secrets (how to balance the forces of Yin and Yang within your own body and mind), transformed to a woman (whom we are to understand represents some aspect of himself, but the dude physically lived in the body of a woman!)...Let me stop there for a second and spend a little time on this subject.

Yes, Derby became a woman named Jeninqua. This part is really whacky doo. Jeninqua is the first woman to have thrown Derby into an upside down connundrum. You see, he fell for her. Yep, kind friend and reader-of-the-meter, Derby got the hots for this strange and beautiful woman named Jeninqua and later went through a metamorphosis (sort of a cocoon story in itself) and lived in her high heels for some time, maybe weeks, months for all we know. And he lived that life in a kind of I Dream of Jeannie existence in a miniature apartment in a bottle.

So we discover, about one fourth of the way through this complex (book of sorts) story,  that he had the hots for an aspect of himself, which was the opposite of him in the Yin/Yang world. And now he wants to run the other way, as fast as he can, from a magnificent creature with porcelain skin and shining eyes, because she just explained that her and her husband want Derby to bonk her and knock her up.

Yes, poor Derby has had the poop kicked out of him by Kung Fu fighters, has been held in a dungeon with broken limbs, has walked through a wondrous forest with magical animals, plants and rocks, had a flying dragon penis attached between his legs, seems to be getting lessons from a Gandalf-Merlin-ObiWanKenobe type of teacher named Umpa, just narrowly escaped falling in love again with another young maiden but now wants to run like hell from who he thinks is the devil's daughter and the poor guy isn't any closer to having his book deal which he came to Hong Kong hoping for in the first place.

So I'm glad we've had this little time together. I hope you are too. So let us proceed to the next chapter, and see who we'll accompany to the next surprise which awaits...

Chapter Seventy One. Kung Fu Maze

Kung Fu Maze

Zhong Li Zheng's great grandfather, Shu Fo, was a calligrapher in the court of Emperor Renzong, during the time of the Qing Dynasty. China was in decline, and losing its place as a predominant world power.

The Zheng family had lived in the Henan Province, near the city of Zhengzhou since the time of antiquity. Shu Fo and his two brothers had studied Kung Fu in the Shaolin style, just as their grandfathers and their grandfather's great grandfathers had, going back to when Batuo was said to have settled on the Mount of Song, in the 4th century AD.

"All energy flows as smooth balls in a well oiled bearing, until it is met by a force to alter the flow," Zhong Li had been taught, just as her great grandfather had been taught.

"The best Kung Fu comes from subtracting. Not by adding technique and skills but by learning to let go of your will to "do" something. Learn to merge in the flow of existing energy. It is better to be buoyed by that energy than to waste your own energy with the intent to overpower some other force. Your own power is very limited and should be used only to return yourself to the "great flow." It is not uncommon to find yourself out of equilibrium. This is the purpose for your own energy, to bring yourself back into balance."

Zhong Li was the best fighter in her 4th and 5th grade class. By the time she was in high school, she was winning regional and district championships, well on her way to a national title.

"The secret of Dragon Fire Weng-shu (to fly unimpeded by the laws of nature) is to dissolve the artificial layer of your separation from the Great Way. When you free yourself from the conspicuous habits of your imagined limitations, your own energy will merge with the limitless energy of The Way."

It was during her last title bout for the national award, Women's Grand Champion of Sichuan Province Kung Fu (Swords, Spears, Straight Sword, Taiji and Dual Events) that her competitor (thought to be the daughter of Judishante Trontan, struck Zhong Li with a spiraling blow to the lower abdomen that sent her flying backwards. Zhong Li was in a coma for forty nights. It was on the forty first day she woke up and declared, "we only reach our ultimate potential when we discover our own power."

Her fighting style changed after that and although she left the family tradition, she became a celebrated and ruthless fighter of free style Kung Fu. She was expert in the styles of Changquan, Xingyiquan, Sun, Choy Li Fut and dozens of others, but she possessed a mysterious power that could inflict pain quickly and directly, since the time of that dreadful blow to her abdomen.  No fighter was quite prepared for her unorthodox technique. She often put her rival competitors in the hospital, and more than one had died from complications from her signature "clamps" and "finger dart thrusts."

Another strange phenomena that occurred after she awoke from her coma is that she had the green reflective eyes of a cat. Often times her competitors fell prey to the hypnotic force of her glare. Though Zhong Li could never keep friends after she took the blow to her abdomen, many of her adversaries and associates gave her the nickname of Gu Long, roughly translated as "fierce dragon."

When Gu Long and Tsu Yen first met at the Hong Kong Disney Kung Fu Dancers try-out they were immediately drawn to each other. Both were cautious but confident. Both were quiet but extremely athletic. And they both had a secret desire to get even with someone.

They would often work out together. Sometimes they would spar or do Tai Chi "Push Hands." Gu Long was careful not to use her dangerous moves on Tsu Yen but her new sparring partner could tell that a danger lurked beneath the surface of her "cat eyed" companion.

Only one of them knew that the Disney dancing group was a front for Scontandia. Gu Long desperately wanted to find and destroy the girl who had modified her DNA, and she thought the best way to find her was to infiltrate the organization, run by her adversary, the daughter of Judishante Trontan, Bai Ling Johnson.