The Chairman
01-04-2003, 09:38 AM
When I woke up this morning from unsettling dreams, I found myself changed in my bed into a monstrous vermin. I was lying on my back as hard as an armor plate, and when I lifted up my head a little, I saw a vaulted brown belly, sectioned by arch-shaped ribs, to whose dome the cover, about to slide off completely, could barely cling. My many legs, pitifully thin compared to the size of the rest of me, were waving helplessly before my eyes.
"Who is Ho Ip?"
There before me, was the figure of a small man, obscured in the distance. The light was ebbing, and I could not distinguish the man's face, but it struck me as East Asian. He had said it simply, without expression. But from the sunlight far at the end of my bedroom, orange glints caught my eyes, and the eyes looked straight at me, mocking and still - as if the question had been addressed to the causeless uneasiness within me.
The man was Sang-tai Kim, the friend of Andy Eng.
"He's back."
"What?"
"Haven't you heard? He is back."
"Oh my God!"
I hurried down the hallway, and again I heard it.
"He's back"
I ran into the bathroom and closed the door. I thought I was still dreaming. The man tapped on the door.
"I'm not here to hurt you. I'm just here to warn you, He's back."
A mordant fear enveloped me. It couldn't be. The last time I had seen the Giant was years ago. But now, he had returned.
Mr. Kim spoke softly:
The large man is back
Verdant, covered with vines
He came to get you
It was a bad Haiku, but Sang-tai Kim was a simpleton. He drank too much, squandered the money his parents had worked so hard for at the dry cleaning business. He had the prominent brow ridge of a Korean, and smelled vaguely of fully fermented Kimchi, which his mother prepared on Sundays, religiously washing each large cabbage leaf as if it was a baby's soiled bottom. Mr. Kim had come to warn me. He had warned me before.
Midway in my life's journey, I had gone astray - from the straight road - and now I woke to find myself alone in a dark bathroom - transformed into a vermin - with thoughts of the Giant. How shall I say, what a Giant it was! I never saw one so drear, so rank. Its very sight gave shape to fear. And now it had come for me.
Sang-tai Kim tapped on the door once again.
"He has come as he said he would, Chairman Kaga. Giants always return to complete unfinished business."
I was sitting on the toilet, but my boxers were still on. I was beginning to feel the outline of the toilet seat pressing against my thighs.
"I must go now Chairman, good day."
And with that, Sang-tai Kim, Andy Eng's friend, was gone.
I lay to rest from my heart's racing, until calm returned to me. I pulled down my boxers. My bowels suddenly began to surge, and I released a dead slope at such a pace that each segment rose above the last.
Almost as I was beginning to rise, I spotted a large black man, in leopard skin coat.
"I be The Mack", he said
The man must have been six feet five, and he cast a terrible shadow over me.
"Wipe yo ass, man and come wit me."
I recognized the urban vernacular as completely contemporary. But the man's garments were foreign, of another time.
"I came to help you boy."
I flushed the toilet. The azure water, courtesy of a Vanish tablet placed in the tank reservoir the night before, filled the bowl.
"Follow me."
I walked towards the man. I looked to my left, and there, sitting on my sofa, was a beautiful Nubian woman, about twenty-three, sitting and leafing through my latest Maxim magazine.
"There's no black ladies in this magazine white boy. You don't think brown sugar tastes just as sweet?"
"That's my Ho, I call her Chi, short for Chicago, where I picked her ass up when she was seventeen", said The Mack.
I could see Miss Chi was waiting for my response. I had none.
"They say Chicago is the Windy City, but this Ho can sure warm yo ass up."
"No doubt", I said.
The Mack caught me staring at Chi's clothes. The miniskirt, the fur, the go-go boots.
"You like them threads no
"Who is Ho Ip?"
There before me, was the figure of a small man, obscured in the distance. The light was ebbing, and I could not distinguish the man's face, but it struck me as East Asian. He had said it simply, without expression. But from the sunlight far at the end of my bedroom, orange glints caught my eyes, and the eyes looked straight at me, mocking and still - as if the question had been addressed to the causeless uneasiness within me.
The man was Sang-tai Kim, the friend of Andy Eng.
"He's back."
"What?"
"Haven't you heard? He is back."
"Oh my God!"
I hurried down the hallway, and again I heard it.
"He's back"
I ran into the bathroom and closed the door. I thought I was still dreaming. The man tapped on the door.
"I'm not here to hurt you. I'm just here to warn you, He's back."
A mordant fear enveloped me. It couldn't be. The last time I had seen the Giant was years ago. But now, he had returned.
Mr. Kim spoke softly:
The large man is back
Verdant, covered with vines
He came to get you
It was a bad Haiku, but Sang-tai Kim was a simpleton. He drank too much, squandered the money his parents had worked so hard for at the dry cleaning business. He had the prominent brow ridge of a Korean, and smelled vaguely of fully fermented Kimchi, which his mother prepared on Sundays, religiously washing each large cabbage leaf as if it was a baby's soiled bottom. Mr. Kim had come to warn me. He had warned me before.
Midway in my life's journey, I had gone astray - from the straight road - and now I woke to find myself alone in a dark bathroom - transformed into a vermin - with thoughts of the Giant. How shall I say, what a Giant it was! I never saw one so drear, so rank. Its very sight gave shape to fear. And now it had come for me.
Sang-tai Kim tapped on the door once again.
"He has come as he said he would, Chairman Kaga. Giants always return to complete unfinished business."
I was sitting on the toilet, but my boxers were still on. I was beginning to feel the outline of the toilet seat pressing against my thighs.
"I must go now Chairman, good day."
And with that, Sang-tai Kim, Andy Eng's friend, was gone.
I lay to rest from my heart's racing, until calm returned to me. I pulled down my boxers. My bowels suddenly began to surge, and I released a dead slope at such a pace that each segment rose above the last.
Almost as I was beginning to rise, I spotted a large black man, in leopard skin coat.
"I be The Mack", he said
The man must have been six feet five, and he cast a terrible shadow over me.
"Wipe yo ass, man and come wit me."
I recognized the urban vernacular as completely contemporary. But the man's garments were foreign, of another time.
"I came to help you boy."
I flushed the toilet. The azure water, courtesy of a Vanish tablet placed in the tank reservoir the night before, filled the bowl.
"Follow me."
I walked towards the man. I looked to my left, and there, sitting on my sofa, was a beautiful Nubian woman, about twenty-three, sitting and leafing through my latest Maxim magazine.
"There's no black ladies in this magazine white boy. You don't think brown sugar tastes just as sweet?"
"That's my Ho, I call her Chi, short for Chicago, where I picked her ass up when she was seventeen", said The Mack.
I could see Miss Chi was waiting for my response. I had none.
"They say Chicago is the Windy City, but this Ho can sure warm yo ass up."
"No doubt", I said.
The Mack caught me staring at Chi's clothes. The miniskirt, the fur, the go-go boots.
"You like them threads no