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Ken was quite depressed. Fall was almost here and he realized
that he didn't have a single new outfit! Little Abdul never
did return after the dreaded pizza bombing, although the bill
for Peter Cottontail's bomb demolition endeavors arrived quite
promptly. It was quite steep and Ken was forced to go on a
budget. How in the world would he ever be able to afford any
new outfits for fall? He was nearly in tears as he browsed
through his collection of last year's fashions. They seemed
so...spent. Peter had nearly bankrupt Casa Lesbo. There was
no way on earth Ken would ever be seen at Walmart buying clothes,
and wouldn't be caught dead in a Jaclyn Smith outfit from
the racks of K-Mart. Suddenly it occurred to him. There was
only one thing to do. He would simply have to catch a flight
to either Asia or India and buy his outfits directly from
the little old women confined to their huts and sewing machines
all day. It was the only way he would be able to afford a
new fall wardrobe. Since Ken was allergic to curry, he opted
for Asia proper. The crash of the Asian market had made everything
quite affordable in the Far East. Korea sounded just right.
He booked a reservation on his favorite airline, Air Samurai.
Ken boarded his flight and immediately ordered a vodka tonic-for
the turbulence, you know. As he settled in to his seat he
became quite excited at the prospect of a whole new wardrobe.
His mind began to drift as he pictured himself swathed in
freshly pressed fabrics and exotic accessories. He found the
smell of sizing quite arousing. Suddenly he was slammed back
into reality. With a huge thud none other than Orson Wells
had crash-landed in the seat next to him. Orson smiled and
began idle chitchat. Ken knew the routine. Orson was merely
trying to gain Ken's affection in hopes of Ken allowing him
frequent access to the aisle. Ken would be keeper of the aisle
on this trip. One bad move from Orson and Ken would have his
footrest up and feign sleep the entire trip, forcing Orson's
exceptionally large bladder to burst and result in certain
death. Ken would definitely work this connection for all it
was worth.
Soon they were airborne and feeling quite peckish. Thank
God Hiroko had begun her cart pushing routine. Unfortunately
she felt it necessary to share the story of her life with
each and every passenger on board. The flight attendants in
the other aisle were now serving row 17. Hiroko was on row
two. "Hai, Hai! My name is Hiroko and I am originally
from Japan. Many moons ago I move to Sheecahgo and begin new
rife in America..." By the time Hiroko reached Ken 38
minutes later he was quite ravenous. "Rood you rike something
to drink? It will be a few moments for da food. It still warming
in oven." "Absolutely. A vodka tonic please."
"Of course. Did I mention to you dat my name is Hiroko
and I am originally from Japan? Many moons ago I move to..."
Ken quickly applied his headset and tuned into a rerun of
Lassie. He smiled as Hiroko handed him his drink and moved
along down the aisle. The vodka was beginning to take affect
and Ken felt much more relaxed. When Hiroko returned to the
galley to begin stocking up her cart for the meal service,
Ken enlisted Orson's assistance in a game of "Call Button
Relay". Ken would ring his call button, and whenever
Hiroko would pop out of the galley to see who it was, Orson
would turn it off. It was a fabulous diversion, and quite
necessary to help pass the 742 hours that it takes to fly
to the Far East. He and Orson repeated this process a dozen
times or so before Hiroko's chopsticks finally snapped. She
returned to the galley in a huff and emerged with a large
steak knife. She picked up the microphone and dialed 1 to
access the PA system. "OK you roundeyes! One more of
your rittle annoying jokes and I going to make sushi of all
of you!" Ken and Orson didn't need to be told twice.
They released their holds on their call buttons and began
chomping happily on their little otsumami crackers.
Following a most exquisite meal service of sushi and pork
gravy the video entertainment began. Since when had Casper
Weinberger began hosting a talk show? Obviously it was a sleep-inducing
technique, and before long everyone began to doze off. Unfortunately
Ken and Orson had consumed far too much green tea, and they
were unable to join the rest of the plane in dreamland. Just
when they thought they would have to start up another game
of Call Button Relay, a prowler appeared. A woman with exceptionally
bad hair from a lesser class of service began to walk up and
down the aisles very slowly, eyeing each and every open seat
in the cabin. She circled twice before quickly landing in
24F. Well, little did she know that the ever-watchful Hiroko
had been observing with her galley cam the entire time. Hiroko
emerged from the galley in full battle regalia. "Hai-ya!"
She exclaimed as she hurled a butcher knife down the aisle.
Missy Bad-Hair was pinned by the bun. "You! You in 24F!
Whatchoo tink? You can just ralk up here and take any open
seat?! Go back! Go back to da trenches where you berong! You
behabe very badry! I am ashame for you! You go back now before
I charge you double! Go! Go now!" She said as she juggled
her samurai blades high in the air. Missy quickly pulled the
knife from her bun and retreated, head bowed in shame. Hiroko
roamed the aisles and performed a flashlight search, just
to ensure that no other refugees had escaped from cargo. Upon
completion of her search she retracted her flashlight and
blades, and returned to the confines of her galley.
Still unable to sleep, Ken was forced to engage himself in
conversation with Orson. "So, is this your first time
to Japan Orson?" "No, no...I come here once a month
or so. Business, you know." "Really? What do you
do?" "I sell depilatory products. Nobody removes
hair like the Japanese." "I hadn't realized that."
"Just look at 'em! You don't see a stray hair on 'em
anywhere. These people have managed to control their hair
for centuries!" "I see." "Yes, they're
very disciplined. And you know, I'm a nudist, so hair control
is very important to me." Ken was speechless and perplexed.
Wasn't it true that most nudists preferred the great outdoors
and beaches. How Orson had managed to escape so many a hunter's
rifle or fisherman's harpoon he couldn't imagine. Then he
noticed the odd ring on Orson's finger. "What's that?"
"It's a hair ring. See...I let the hair grow long enough
on one of my knuckles to have it braided into a ring. It's
kind of my own little statement...being in the hair control
business and all." "Really." Ken said. "Jesus
Christ this guy's a certified lunatic!" Ken screamed
inside.
Just then a strange smell wafted through the cabin. It was
either a gas leak from Orson or pork cutlets in the galley.
Suddenly Hiroko emerged from the galley with a new cart of
fresh cutlets. Ken sighed. Hiroko began reciting chapter two
of her life story to the couple in row two. She finally reached
Ken as the passengers in the other aisle were having their
meal trays taken away and being served desert. "Rould
you rike cutret or fruit prate?" "Fruit plate, please."
"Sorry! All out! You have to have cutret!!" She
said as she held a samurai knife to Ken's throat. "OK.
I'll have the cutlet, please." "Dat better. What
rould you rike to drink wid dat?" "Tea please."
"What kind of tea? You know I hab several different kinds!
You cannot just say tea! You need to tell me what kind!"
Again, the knife was held to Ken's throat. "Green tea,
p-p-please." "Dat better. Dat excerrent choice."
Hiroko retracted her Benihana knives and moved along down
the aisle. Ken stared at the tepid cutlets before him, and
opted to have another bag of the life-saving otsumami crackers.
Never had dry seaweed tasted so good.
Seven years and sixteen days later Hiroko secured the galley
and announced that they would be landing shortly in Narita.
She sprinkled the passengers with tea and tossed cherry blossoms
high into the air to celebrate yet another safe passage across
the sea. Ken brushed the petals away from his watch to catch
a glimpse of the time. He realized that he had several hours
before his connection. As the plane touched down and taxied
to its designated gate he quickly wished Orson bon-voyage
and proceeded directly to the business lounge. In the business
lounge he planned to rest while taking on more vodka and otsumami.
What greeted him as he opened the doors to the lounge can
only be described as the lounge of the living dead. There
were travelers in badly wrinkled outfits with half eaten snacks
strewn everywhere. They were all comatose, drooling, and badly
in need of a coif. Suddenly Lily Tomlin-san announced the
boarding of flight eight-eight-run to Korea. Ken looked at
his watch and realized that he had set his watch incorrectly.
It was indeed already time for him to board his flight. He
thanked God that there would be no time for him to join the
other zombies and become one of them. He grabbed several tiny
bottles of vodka and a few handfuls of otsumami for the road.
As the passengers boarded the Pre-Cambrian 747 the flight
attendant reassured each and every one of them that the rubber
bands holding the engines to the wing would indeed hold up
for the duration of the flight. Ken didn't care. He had his
vodka and otsumami, he would be just fine. The plane taxied
away and took off shortly after he had stowed his head and
crammed his luggage into the overhead compartment.
Hiroko had been replaced by Miss Wong. The Koreans are a
very proper people, and everyone is addressed formally. Miss
Wong wheeled her cart of noodles down the aisle quite gracefully.
Noticeably absent was the delivery of her biography with each
and every cocktail. "Would you rike some Thai noodles
Missuh Ken?" "Oh no thank you, I've brought my own
snacks." Ken replied as he revealed a packet of otsumami
from his pocket. "Oh, I think you made a very wise decision.
These noodles were probabry fresh two weeks ago, but not anymore!
Would you rike some vodka to go with those?" The woman
was truly psychic. "Why, yes I would Miss Wong. Thank
you ever so much." Ken replied as he resecured his own
stash of tiny vodka bottles. He would save them for future
emergencies. "You very welcome Missuh Ken. Prease do
not be afraid to ring call button if dare is anything else
you need." Ken was truly going to enjoy Korea, he just
knew it. |
