October 16, 2004

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  --

  
  

  "It's about time," he muttered. Jason was running late already. His yellow spandex costume had taken two weeks to complete. There was a problem with the crotch area. It was tailored much larger than he was, producing a saggy effect.

  
  

  Maybe the seamstress assumed too much because Jason was black. Jason was black, but he had a little chinese in him. It wasn't something he liked to explain.

  
  

  --

  
  

  Inspired by old Superman television episodes from the 50's and Wesley Snipes, Jason had gotten the idea to join the ranks of 'super heroes'.

  
  

  "God gave me the gift of hump," he reasoned.

  
  

  Jason knew he had talent, he just wasn't sure how to join a super hero club or union. Perhaps he needed to be recruited. If that was the case, Jason sure as hell knew a way to get noticed.

  
  

  --

  
  

  Several weeks prior, Jason tried to get himself recruited by being a man of action. He hoped the super hero people would evaluate him for his gestures and ability to stop crime. First, he needed to find crime.

  
  

  Snooping for alerts on terrorists, thieves, rapists, and other degenerates was much more difficult than Jason had imagined. He was resourceful, however, and figured out a way to catch some crimin-ables. The county jail lost dozens of prisoners a day, a fact of incompetence that Jason could barely fathom. Jail guards must be helpless.

  
  

  Luckily for jail guards, Jason found one common thread among some super heroes in the super hero community. They were helpful. Jason wanted to be helpful.

  
  

  --

  
  

  At first, Jason was going to case the joint. He sat in the backseat of a Crown Vic postitioned strategically outside of the county jail, trying really hard to be inconspicuous. Jason thought he was doing well, but the cab driver in the front seat disagreed. The driver was annoying Jason with an abundance of smart remarks for everything Jason did in the backseat. Probably the worst comment the cabbie had was the one in regards to Jason's explanation that vigorous masturbation is a stress reducer.

  
  

  "Bullshit," the cabbie replied as he sped off. Jason's Big Juggz magazine had an article that legitimized his claim, but he forgot to bring it with him because his mother had to borrow it.

  
  

  Now that he was standing in front of the county jail, Jason had to think of a way to observe while going unnoticed. Quick on his feet, he formulated a plan that employed standing still and keeping quiet. If a bird shat on him, he would not run around and scream like a girl like that time in high school.

  
  

  The quiet part was easy, but the standing part was hard. Where in the world did super heroes develop the strength to stand so long? Jason took comfort in knowing that he was standing in a strong gust that howled steadily at one mile an hour.

  
  

  --

  
  

  Fourteen excruciating minutes later, Jason noticed a Chinese guy walking out of the jail. This Sham from Shanghai whistled something ominously Oriental while counting some cash. Jason couldn't believe it. A foreigner was leaving a jail, whistling some Asiatic crap, and counting whole one dollar bills. This wasn't just any China man, though. This was a pro. Only Jason noticed how slickly this Bangkok Bobby waved goodbye to a peace officer entering the jail's building. He obviously knew how to wave away pedestrian suspicion.

  
  

  There were other features of this Tokyo Tony that people on the street ignored. This guy was buff. While most women would construe this as 'sexy' or 'pussy moistening', Jason knew that the only way a Korean Kaka could bulk up would be by serving some serious federal prison time. No wonder he could get away from a measly county jail!

  
  

  Just then, Jason developed another super hero power. He suddenly had the ability to envision the future. If Johnny the Jap got away, Jason saw an ugly future. His vision included the muscle bound villain stabbing a cop with a chopstick, super kung-fu kicking an apache helicopter, and stealing little children's candy.

  
  

  Soaked with sweaty rage, Jason approached the China Vagina. Drawing from his own Chinese ancestry, he said, "Gong gong gong."

  
  

  Ricky Rickshaw blinked and tilted his head like a puppy. Jason was amazed. He had picked a worthy adversary seasoned in the ancient forms of illusion. Playing innocent was a move worthy of Gary Karsparov.

  
  

  "Gong gong gong. You speak cantonese?" Believe it or not, the Asian Alex's eyes narrowed! Most passer-byers missed it, but it was clear to Jason that he was getting under this Seoul Shit's skin. Everyone knows orientals are masters of emotional suppression, but some how Jason managed to bring out squinty eyes from a hardened criminal.

  
  

  The convict's next move was peculiar. To Jason, it was an act of desperation. The Chinese Chimichanga decided to steal a Mercury Cougar. Although he moved to the driver's side door and even produced a key, Jason knew that no asian male would be caught owning a Mercury with "Bolo's Fast Delivery 713-555-1818" stickers.

  
  

  Before 'Bolo' could jimmy the door open with a key, Jason jumped on his back and started to suppress the fucker the only way he knew how. He tried to hump the Thief from Thailand into oblivion. Amazingly, the Indian Curry tried to keep his act up by screaming for help. Without an accent, no less.

  
  

  As Jason jabbed his crotch mercilessly in the criminal's back, he had two visions. The first involved civic medals, white women, newspaper articles, money, and freshly cut watermelon slices. The second was more of a recollection of a particular Trials of Life video about chihuauas in heat he watched while reducing stress once. Jason blocked the second vision the best he could, happily taking solace in his ability to work both of his super hero powers simultaneously just as his mother does with her seven boyfriends.

  
  

  --

  
  

  Onlookers say that he was seemingly congratulating himself by patting himself on the back. For whatever reasons, Jason gave the Beijing Bandit the oppurtunity to tip the scales of fortune cookies.

  
  

  "It was terrible," one old crazy white male witness said. "He had it up to his elbow in the colored fella's ass."

  
  

  At that moment, Jason had a lot of chinese in him.

  
  

  --

  
  

  Turns out the Chinese-American had been in some Bruce Lee and Jean Claude Van Damme movies. His name was Bolo Yeung and he was the county jail's favorite chinese chef. The police department televised an award ceremony dedicated to Bolo for his achievement in civic duty.

  
  

  Jason watched from his jail cell during the second of his one day stretch. He knew the guards wanted him out, but he had other ideas. The ideas formed one theory; Bolo Yeung and the county jail were equal partners in an evil criminal syndicate that 'went all the way up'. When Jason said this out loud, other jailed men laughed it off as 'all the way up Jason's ass'.

  
  

  It was easy to ignore the other jail birds, but Jason silently seethed when Bolo gave his message to little kids watching.

  
  

  "Very good. But brick not hit back! "

  
  

  --

  
  

  Presently, Jason already feels more like a super hero as he makes his way back to the county jail. He feels under appreciated, a natural super hero emotion.

  
  

  But why is it that people on the bus call him 'Freak' when he is changing into his costume? He doesn't care for negative spats like that, but he takes time to smile at one little old lady who exclaims, "Yo! He's hung like Chinese laundry!" Jason decides her comment is better than 'Freak' and pats himself on the back during some vigorous masturbation.

  
  

  --

  
  

  As he bursts through the doors of the county jail and humps a policewoman's leg, he knows that at least one citizen riding public transportation doesn't think that badly of him.

  
  

  --

  
  

  I apologize for being bored.

  • 4:41 pm
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