Once upon a time there was a curious man from China who wore a magical pair of glasses. Everywhere he looked he saw things other people could not see


(Chapter one)

The street was now a river of angry patriots. There was no need to run. He couldn’t if he wanted to. All he could do was to let the swift human current carry him along. The horrible part was that his stupid sister delayed him just long enough that when he did get out the door he stepped directly into the midst of the Virgin Brigade, an army of ferocious middle school girls whose slogan was, “Let our hundred flowers bloom for the Great Helmsman but for no other.”

His sister’s banshee cries were nothing compared to the painful shrieks coming from this band of Red vixen. After a few moments the din began to take the shape of words, horrible words that convinced him he had to find a way to get past these raving little witches. With each step they chanted, “Raise every Red flag. Castrate every black swine!”

But when he would edge his shoulder ahead of one “Virgin”, another would whip her head around and thrash his face with her tightly woven braids. The blood was begining to rush to his battered cheeks when he heard a rasping clatter rising above their castration chant.

An authoritative male voice blasted out of a loud speaker, “Move it! Move it! You white boned demons! Make way for the soldiers of the PLA!”

“The cavalry to the rescue! Just like a bourgeois Yankee movie!” he thought almost aloud.

As he was pressed against the wall by the flaming female flesh, the tires of the PLA truck passed within a centimeter of his right foot. He let out a scream, that luckily no one could hear, shouting “Squash the bitches, not my boots, damn it!”

His curse was answered like a prayer. A hairy masculine hand reached down and pulled him up onto the bed of the truck that had nearly crippled him.

“Young comrade, what the hell are you doing in that lair of bleeding bitches?” the hand asked.

“Trying to escape, of course!”

The truck rang with hearty male laughter.

“You’re going to the People’s Court, are you?”

“Yes, of course. I have to…”

“You have to save your sabre. You’ll need it to probe one of those plump piglets when you meet her one on one!”

The truck-load of soldiers exploded in laughter.

“Yes sir, comrade. And when I do, I’ll make that one squeal even louder than the whole Brigade.”

This time the uproar drowned out the emasculating chants of the Virgin Brigade now marching to the rear of the PLA front.

(Chapter Three)