Where did I leave off this time? Oh yeah, the part where I got knocked out by Chinese guys with big guns.
When I finally woke up, I was in a small gray room handcuffed to a metal desk. Right on cue, a Chinese man wearing a nice suit came in and sat down in front of me.
“Mr. Mugg, you have been quite busy.”
The man’s English was impeccable! He also looked a lot like my friend Peter back home. Friends… Home… Pancakes… I began to miss all of them. Before I could get lost in my sweet sweet memories, I was brought back to planet Earth by the man’s firm voice.
“Mr. Mugg, do you know why you are here?”
Of course I knew why I was there! I lost a drinking contest to Edwin, was forced to go sober, hit a college girl, burned down an airbending temple, traveled halfway across the world, and attempted to kill the king of the airbenders, which was some llama I never even got to meet! I recounted the events of all the other chapters of this story (I hope you read them before reading this one!) as the man listened intently while taking notes.
After I finished my story, the man thanked me, then left the room. Where did he go? I don’t know. I didn’t even know where I was let alone where some Chinese guy in a suit who spoke perfect English went off to!
I sat there for what felt like hours. The part they never tell you about being sober is that time moves differently when you don’t have a nice cold mug of the good stuff to keep you company. For all I knew those hours could have been minutes. Without my trusty amber companion, time moved so slowwwwww! How do people live like this?!
After several hours, minutes, whatever, the Chinese man in the suit came back in, this time with an American man in a suit. The American man spoke to me in a harsher tone than his Chinese friend.
“The notorious Frosty Mugg. We meet at last.”
Notorious? Meet at last? Who exactly was this guy? Maybe he’d tell me if I kept my mouth shut. I waited. He waited. The Chinese man waited. The waitress at my favorite restaurant back home waited. Man, I really wanted some pancakes again. Was I in China? Did they have pancakes in China? I had a lot of questions, and with how quiet everyone was it seemed like nobody had any answers.
Finally, the American man spoke again.
“Nothing to say, Frosty? After everything you did, you don’t have anything you’d like to say before we take you back to the United States?”
I had plenty to say! But I wasn’t gonna say it to this guy, who was obviously a cop! I know my rights and my lefts, and if I didn’t exercise my right to remain silent I’d be left in jail!
But I really wanted those pancakes though. I wanted them bad. Bad enough that I was willing to humble myself to Johnny Law and his Chinese friend. Mustering up all the manners I could mind, I threw my pancake proposition out there.
“Could I trouble you guys for some pancakes?”
The two men looked at each other, then busted out laughing. Not wanting to look stupid for missing the joke, I laughed too. The American man laughed, the Chinese man laughed, I laughed. It was a good time. Right up until the American man turned around and punched me square in the nose!
“What the hell was that for dude? I just want some pan-”
CRACK!
The American man hit me again, this time in my mouth. Blood ran down my face and dripped onto the table in front of me. Jeez, that hurt! The man leaned in close, and I could smell cigarettes on his breath.
“You tore up half of Eastern Europe and Asia, burned down not one, not two, not three, but TEN Buddhist monasteries, viciously assaulted the Prime Minister of Bosnia, tanked the economy of East Timor, and singlehandedly devastated diplomatic relations between the United States and ASEAN.”
Ah, so that’s what I did during that time I couldn’t remember! Thanks Johnny Law!
“You unleashed a wave of destruction and depravity not seen in Europe and Asia since World War II, and all you’re worried about is pancakes!”
Well, I couldn’t sue that man for slander. Honesty was the best policy, so I nodded.
“Yeah man, who doesn’t like pancakes?”
The American man began beating me savagely, I’m not sure for how long. When he finally stopped though my face and body hurt like hell. He left the room, and the Chinese man helped me up.
“Mr. Mugg, they are taking you back to America tomorrow morning. I would advise you to stop talking until then.”
But what about the pancakes? Won’t anyone think of the damn pancakes?!
“So is that a no on those pancakes, or…?”
The Chinese man just shook his head.
“No Mr. Mugg, you will not be having any pancakes.”
With that, the Chinese man left, leaving me to contemplate my return to the United States and a pancake-less future.
Man I really need another beer. Here’s the link to the last chapter, chapter six? I think (drink?)