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!"
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