To the BATMOBILE

Wednesday, May 07, 2008

tender loving care

Today, I was brought to someone I was told who was able to remedy my shoulders into something that vaguely resembles a normal human being’s.

The man himself looked quiet and unassuming in strange Mr. Miyagi clothes, apart from the disturbing fact he was positively juggling 4 separate clubs of ginger with disarming ease. In my unenlightened, racially-prejudiced blind Western ways I was beginning to doubt my friend’s mothers earlier words of wisdom.

“People say that he’s a qigong master that used to be able to take on 10 people at once” She had whispered to me. Then again, people had said that I was an incorrigible womaniser with beautiful ladies falling over me. I was desperate to believe both of them, though I was beginning to suspect my 20 dollars were going to be ill spent. I looked capable of breaking him in half – and that’s saying alot... This is me, the man with a couple of weak-assed semi-attached shoulders who would get manhandled by an Ethiopian refugee slave-child in his death throes.
The odds looked in favour of me. How could a self-styled trim and fit (in his own eyes) superhero possibly lose to the kindly master of Karate Kid who had probably recently celebrated his 219th birthday. That was when he shrugged back his sleeves to reveal preposterously large and knobbly knuckles. He was beginning to resemble the killer “tear your arms off with my chopsticks” kung-fu psychopath from Kill Bill than the whispy beard father figure that many kids dreamed of having as a master.

He struck soon after – proceeding to tenderise 90% of my exposed body with a surprisingly hard yin-yang chi-buster ginger weapon. Shrugging aside my cries of “my left big toe has a fractured socket” and “yes, you bastard – those unusual bony protrusions and tender swellings mean that my shoulder is injured” by denouncing me as a heretic and unknowledgeable in the true ways of Healing – through torture. I took particular offence from his smirks of disdain as he attempted to pulverize my vertebrae regarding how “soft” I was from “eating too many chicken wings” (this of course, communicated through the vomit-sounding Cantonese dialect). I’ll have all of you know my skin is kept smooth and supple through the religious use of skin-friendly soap. Thankfully he stopped soon after, and I stumbled away bleary-eyed and marinated in rice wine – I resembled a Chinese herbal delicacy more than a member of the human race.

And so Butlerman meets his match in the form of TCM (traditional Chinese medicine to the uninitiated) – although the extent of which you could consider being beaten up with wine-drenched ginger or hammers “medicinal” or anything vaguely beneficial is beyond comprehension.

The worst news? I have to go back on Thursday to complete the final rites before I am officially doomed to a lifetime of detachable arms.

TO THE BATMOBILE

posted by butler at 12:50 am
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