The Man From Mars - Episode Eight

    I was left alone in what I will call "The Bunker" from now on. Since it reminds me of, one of those old World War Two movies props, where the people in Britain would hunker down together, looking to the ceiling, wondering if this was the time they were going to be the unlucky ones and a German bomb was going to find its target.
    I am sure this bunker is a lot cozier than anything they had during that era. It had two large bunk-beds with clean sheets and goose down blankets. A bathroom with a shower. Toiletries for men and women. An area for cooking. Not a stove as such, but a toaster oven and a hot plate. Satellite TV for either watching your usual entertainment or if the need be, as a security monitor. Which switched over as soon as someone opened, knock, or busted into the front or back doors. Hong Xia had this house so wired up that if someone tried breaking into any of the windows, including the ones on the second floor, the security monitor would turn on interrupting your daily soap opera.
    On one end, and I swear it must have been from World War Two, was a submarine type hatch, with the round type steering wheel on the right side.
    My Hostess asked me never to open it out of curiosity, because then I would be sleeping with the smell of human waist for a week or two. Even with modern ventilation, that sewer smell was impossible to get rid of she said.
    One wall had shelves lined along it, filled with can goods and military pouches of grub. In case you needed to pack in a hurry and hightail it out of there.
    A refrigerator was stocked full of supplies too. Everything except alcohol.
    "Cannot have falling down drunks when they should be escaping from Immigration or the Police," Hong Xia told me.
    I knew she was right, but I sure could have drank a cold one right about then.
    Another thing I noticed, there wasn't a stockpile of weapons or ammunition. Unlike the days of the 1920s Gangster, where the firepower was evenly matched between the good guys and the bad, today's Police operations in the big cities are conducted with military precision.
    There are no friendly Irish Police Officers anymore, who walk a beat, and who know everyone in the neighborhood. Police are trained as a military unit now, and taught that the public is their enemy. Its no longer "To Protect & Serve," but "Us against Them."
    After finishing my inspection of the bunker, I was just about to choose one of the two lower beds to rest on, when Hong Xia entered with a petite Chinese girl following her. The girl was holding a tray of two cups and a pot of tea. Xia orders the girl to put the tray on the dining table and to leave. She bows a few too many times towards us, then turns around and darts out of there.
    "Okay George," Hong Xia says to me. "You are now going to tell me what is going on or I will have one of my Henchmen chop you up into little pieces and serve you as sushi tonight!"
    "Wait! What?" Is all I could think of saying, while I began shacking.
    Lucky for me I didn't have any beer beforehand, like I was hoping for, because I would have pissed in my pants right about then.
    That is when Hong Xia started laughing hysterically.
    "You white people are so gullible. You see movies about Chinese Henchmen chopping people up and you think all Chinese are like that." She said, in-between laughing. "And you George. The great journalist, who fights for justice for the downtrodden, still has that stereo-typical-type in his mind when he sees a Chinese person."
    My blood pressure was beating in the high whatever, because I could feel the flush building up in my face without even looking at a mirror. Not from rage or anger, but from embarrassment.
    She was right of course. Maybe it was from a lifetime of seeing a culture or a group of people depicted the same way through the media over and over again, that I couldn't let go of some of prejudices instilled in me. But at least I work at it all the time. Trying not to be, that is.
    "Settle down George. Here, drink some tea." Xia said while pouring me a cup. "You do not look so white now George Johnson. You look like the Myrica rubra fruit from my homeland. So red and juicy in the face."

    "Very funny," I said, then gulping down my first full cup of tea. "You could have given me a heart attack!"
    "George, I want you to know I mean business. Either you tell me what is going on or you will be out of here by morning."
    I knew she was serious and I couldn't avoid it any longer. I looked into her eyes and started by saying, "You are not going to believe this." Then I told her the whole story up to this point.
   To my surprise, she did not interrupt me during my explanation, she did not laugh when I told that I believed what the stranger at the bar was telling me, and she did not ask me to leave once I had finished.
   All she asked was, "Can I see the amulet?"

This is,

Will Hong Xia Really Chop Up George?

Is George's Blood Pressure About To Burst?

What Will Hong Xia Do Once She Sees The Amulet?

Come Back Next Week For Another Exciting

Episode

Of

The Man From Mars

To Find Out What Happens!

Jim Hauenstein,

And,

“China is a big country, inhabited by many Chinese. ”
- Charles de Gaulle -

That is my story and I am sticking to it!

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