The Destroyer - 100 - The Destroyer 100 - Last Rites by Warren Murphy & Richard Sapir

Author:Warren Murphy & Richard Sapir [Murphy, Warren & Sapir, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Pulp Action
ISBN: 9780373632152
Publisher: PINNACLE BOOKS
Published: 1995-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

"You obviously possess sufficient crap of your own," the old man said, voice dripping with disdain.

"More than sufficient," said Sosumi, giving the silver handle another bat. "Takes two, sometimes three flushes to do the job. Wonder if they got a Guinness world-record category for turd size?"

"If they did," said the little man, "you would be both immortal and undefeated."

Sosumi smacked his meaty paws together. "Okay, bring on your boy."

"Tonight at midnight."

"Hope he's insured."

REMO TOSSED AND TURNED on his tatami mat in his suite at the Tokyo Bay Grande Sheraton Hotel.

In his dream he sat facing a Korean of indeterminate age who wore the formal silk kimono and topknot of the unified Shilla Dynasty. He was very lean, as if he ate only straw.

The Korean had kindly eyes, and when he spoke, his voice was like water rippling along the stones of a clear brook.

"'The bee sucks,'" he said.

"So?" said Remo.

"No. Now it is your turn. I have said the bee sucks. What do you say?"

Remo shrugged. "The bee sucks eggs."

The Korean's kindly eyes grew troubled. "Bees do not suck eggs."

"This isn't word association?"

"No. I have provided the first line of a poem. You must provide the second line."

"Oh. Okay. How's this? 'The turtle ducks.'"

"Why do you introduce turtles into a poem about-"

"Because 'ducks' rhymes with 'sucks,'" Remo said, "Rhyming is for Greeks and children. We do not rhyme. You must try again."

"Try this. 'The flower waits.'"

"What kind of flower awaits?"

"Is that the third line?" Remo asked.

"No!"

"Don't get upset. It was just a question."

"You must specify which flower. 'Flower' means nothing. Would you ask for fruit when you desire pear?"

"'The tulip awaits,' then," Remo said hastily.

"Tulips are not Korean."

Remo sighed. "Why don't you take my turn?"

"Very well. 'The chrysanthemum trembles like a shy maiden.'"

"Nice image. I add, 'The bee stings.'"

"What does this bee sting?"

Remo shrugged carelessly. "Whatever he wants. It's my turn so it's my bee. Your turn now."

"No, you must specify. Why can you not specify? Ung poetry is very specific. Image is all. Meaning is what is gleaned from the image."

"Okay, 'The bee stings you.'"

"Why me?"

"Because you're annoying me with this dippy Ung stuff."

"What means 'dippy?'"

"Silly. Stupid. Take your pick."

And the Korean drew himself to his feet. His face became a thunderhead. "But I am Master Ung. To insult the purity of my poems is to challenge me. Prepare yourself, ghost-face."

Remo backed off fast. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. Tell you what. I'll take the next three lines. How's that?"

"No, you will stand quietly while I recite the next three thousand lines."

Remo's face fell. "Three thousand lines?"

"Because I am angry," Ung said in an injured tone, "I can recite only a short Ung poem."

And in his dream, Remo groaned while Master Ung said, "Chrysanthemum petals fall from a celadon sky" three thousand times, varying in the intonation each time but leaning toward angry nine falls out of ten.

A STEELY VOICE BROKE the endless rain of petals. "It is time to face the wrestler."

Remo shot up out of bed, bathed in sweat.

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