#25 
In the province of BONSAI (where tress grow only ten inches tall and crooked, but the owners are smart enough to sell them to Americans for hundreds of dollars) a poor boy named Lo-Pan lived with his five hundred pound mother – Hi Pan – off of the meager pension his father left them when the egg noodle factory blew up. Lo-Pan was a weenie, but he worked hard, and his mother, who was unable to lift herself from her bed due to her enormous girth, depended on him for many things.
One day Lo-Pan went to the market. He took the three donkeys and the cart. It took three donkeys, because his grossly obese mother required many bags of rice, several large piles of meat, and bushels of vegetables to survive. Lo-Pan shopped in the market often, but this one day he drove his cart past a certain crossroads, where Borat and his five Nancy-boys hung out. The Nancy boys were greatly feared, because they practiced a form of limp-wristed kung fu, involving long poorly painted fake nails and spiked heels. Lo-Pan knew nothing of Borat, but when his cart came to the crossroads, the man stepped into the road, and Lo-Pan stopped.
“You cannot pass,” Borat proclaimed, standing in the road with only a lycra french-cut thong hiding his junk from the world.
Lo-Pan scratched his head. “I am not passing. I am the only one on the road. There is no one to pass…and if you mean to pass gas, kind sir, I have not broken wind in many days.”
“Ah,” Borat cried. “A comedian!” He leaped at Lo-Pan, throwing a high scissor-kick with the spike of his too-sharp heels. Lo-Pan stumbled back, tripped, and thus saved his life.
Borat’s heel struck the cart. The heel was sharp, and it drove deep into the wood, embedding itself.
The Nancy boys moved in, circling Lo-Pan warily, believing he was practicing “Drunken Idiot” kung fu, and fearing its power.
“I must feed my mother,” Lo-Pan proclaimed. “I must drive the cart to market.”
“You cannot pass!” Borat screeched. He fought madly to free his foot from the cart.
The donkeys, upset by the noise, began to walk forward. The Nancy Boys thought it was a ploy, and concentrated on Lo-Pan. Lo-Pan landed down to grab the lead rope for the cart, and three Nancy Boys missed their kicks. One kicked another, the second spun and fell. The third kicked Borat in the head. Borat yelped in pain.
“The market will close soon,” Lo-Pan said. “If there is no food, my mother will be angry.”
“She must be a warrior of amazing skill!” The Nancy boys cried.
“You talkin’ ’bout my mother?” Lo-Pan asked…confused.
The Nancy Boys lifted Borat and threw his unclothed ass into the cart (oddly drawn by three other asses) and formed a barrier around Lo-Pan.
“We will help you to feed your mother. She will teach us, as she has taught you!”
Lo-Pan wondered why they wanted to lance the boils on his mother’s feet, but had no complaint to offer.
The group marched on to market…as they went, Lo-Pan dreamed of the beautiful VAL who would sell him rutabagas and beets. One day, he hoped to maker her his own…
Perhaps now that he had a posse…
Written by David Wilson - Visit WebsiteFollow me on Twitter
