Let's Just Chew Our Way Outta Here!

by Jack Burton.

  
This is Jack Burton in the Pork Chop Express, and I'm talkin' to whoever's listenin' out there.  Well, ya see, I'm not saying that I've been everywhere and I've done everything, but I do know it's a pretty amazing planet we live on here, and a man would have to be some kind of fool to think we're alone in this universe. Say for instance, this doctor’s visit I had the other day to check on my bill of health.

I drove my rig up to the hospital, and parked the Pork Chop closest to the nearest exit.  I don’t like hospitals the same way I don’t like Egg Foo Young bus tours, so I wanted to make this visit as little big trouble as I could make it.  I entered through the emergency doors, and instantly got lost.  After twenty minutes of wandering the halls, I finally found the waiting room I was supposed to be in.  I checked in with the receptionist, and she told me to take a seat. 

After over an hour of reading an issue of Better Homes & Garden from 1978 in the waiting room, I stomped up to the broad behind the desk and said, “Look lady, you may not get enough of me, but I’ve got a haul to keep on schedule.  Time is money to a guy like me, and you may go off and rule the universe from behind your desk, but I’m either about to check into a psycho ward or the Hell of Being Cut to Pieces if I don’t see the doc in five minutes or less.”  The woman glared at me and said she was sorry, but it’d be a few more minutes.  After another thirty, a medical assistant floated through a pair of doors, and yelled, “Burton?”  I smacked the magazine down on a table, and got up and said to the other patients, “Okay.  You people sit tight, hold the fort and keep the home fires burning.  And if I’m not back by dawn…call the president.”

I like my doctor just fine because although he has a coke nail longer than my last ex-wife's, he still maintains an aura of crackerjack professionalism.  Tall guy, weird clothes.  First you see him, then you don’t.  All I know is this doctor character comes out of thin air in the middle of a goddamn office while his buddies are flying around on wires cutting everybody to shreds, and he just stands there waiting for me to take off my clothes right in front of him while there’s light coming out of his mouth.  After taking a few tests that were par for the course, my doc asked, “Why are you here, Mr. Burton?”

I propped my feet up on the doc’s table, and said, “Look I’m gonna tell you a story, and I don’t want to hear about an act of God, alright?  I visited a whorehouse last week, and met a little baby named Ashlee.  She called herself a blogger for some internet thing called Raggle Rock, which is laughable cuz’ that’s a stupid name for a blog, and here we were, standing in an eight by eight room inside a downtown brothel.  She had jade green eyes which were a plus to some folks in this part of the world.  She wasn’t terrible looking, but there definitely was something wrong with her face.  

After I settled myself into an armchair in the corner of her room, she took out a flask filled with black liquid and asked if I’d like some ‘magic potion’. “That’s not liquor,” I said.  “Black blood of the earth,” she responded.  “Do you mean oil?” I asked.  “I mean black blood of the earth,” she whispered bitchily. “You will see things no one else can see.  Do things no one else can do.  Wind, fire, all that kind of thing!”  After she said that, I had to check this potion out for myself because as Ol’ Jack always says…what the hell?  I stood up and took a giant gulp from her flask.  My brain felt instantly dizzy, and I fell back onto her bed.  Loosening up my tie, I said, “Is it getting hot in here, or is it just me?”  The blogger stared at my crotch and told me to relax.  I pulled it together for a second and said, “I am relaxed.  Feel pretty good.  I’m not, uh, I’m not scared at all.  I just feel kind of…feel kind of invincible.”

She raised her eyebrows twice, and then pounced on me.  The sex felt like we were flying through beams of green and pink light.  6.9 on the Richter scale!  The only thing that Jack Burton could have done to make her cum harder would be if in the middle of cunnilingus, I told her where I got my lace-up leather boots she’d been eyeing for the last hour and a half.  I think she had a thing for the glasses I was wearin’ and my hair being slicked to the side because she kept her heels on the entire time.  It’s all in the reflexes.

After the fun, I got up and put my pants on.  I started heading towards the door when the blogger prostitute said, “God, aren’t you even gonna kiss me goodbye?”  “Nope,” I said.  She looked panicked, and screamed, “Jack, wait!  I love you!”  I grimaced at her and asked, “Are you crazy….is that your problem?”  Her green eyes turned dark, and she threw the flask of black magic against the wall.  I walked over to her and grabbed her chin.  “Look sweetie, is this gonna get ugly, now?  Huh?  I hope not.  Because I thought what we were here, gender differences notwithstanding, as just a couple of old transactional friends.  Sooner or later, I rub everybody the wrong way.”  “No horseshit, Jack,” she said while nursing her toothache.  

The doctor shifted in his chair, and asked, “Do you know where this girl is now?”  I pointed my arm to where I thought was west, and said, “Yeah, I thought I told you she’s at that brothel just above the Cantonese restaurant Dragons of the Black Pool.”  The doctor sprang from his chair and paced the office.  “This woman sounds like a special kind of woman.  She has the dragon green eyes that can make me whole again, Jack.  I must find her and marry her.”  My eyes just about rolled out of my head, and I said, “What, I’m supposed to buy this shit?  You look like you’re two thousand years-old, and you still haven't been able to find one broad to fit the bill? Come on, Doc, you must be doing something seriously wrong.  Girls with green eyes are a lot easier to find than girls with two vaginas.”

A few weeks later, I got a follow-up letter from the hospital tellin’ me everything tested negative.  I heaved a huge sigh of relief and shot a gun up into the ceiling.  Good results like that may not pan out for everybody out there, but just remember what ol' Jack Burton does when the earth quakes, and the poison arrows fall from the sky, and the pillars of Heaven shake. Yeah, Jack Burton just looks that big ol' storm right square in the eye and he says, "Give me your best shot, pal. I can take it."