As The World (of Ming) Turns, Part I

Like the cool cat he is, Bodi leaned against the bar, soaking up the sights and sounds around him like a sponge with an absolutely unquenchable thirst. A few scantily clad ladies sauntered by, coyly smiling at him, which he met by pursing his lips into an exaggerated kiss and sensually rubbing his left nipple under his shirt with the pad of the middle finger on his right hand.

"One Apple Martini - shaken, not stirred, and I want one of those cute little umbrella thingys in it too", he shouted over the noise of the music and crowd to the bartender, all the while maintaining his eye-lock with of one of the ladies, his finger still dutifully circling his nipple; his lips returned to the pursed position.

He was dressed in his black trenchcoat, open in the front, and wearing the "Neo" sunglasses he always wore when he was meeting the guys for a bit of club-hopping to "get his swerve on".

After the last ounce of the ladies were finally swallowed by the background of flashing lights and sweaty, gyrating bodies on the dancefloor, he summoned his most serious face, turned to seemingly no one and asked "Are you saying that I can dodge bullets?", in his best Keanu Reaves voice. This was instantly followed by him snatching the glasses off his face as he took a step to the right to face his original position, pulling his "Morpheus" glasses out of his coat pocket, placing them on his face and dramatically answering himself in his deepest Morpheus voice "I'm saying when the time comes, you won't have to".

This was accompanied by a sly half smile, a wink and a "double pistol shooter" hand manuever, just as he had practiced in front of his full length mirror at home a thousand (or more) times.

The first sip of his fruity and delicious shaken-not-stirred Apple Martini was interrupted by Ming's trademark "RASSSSUP ESSSAAAAY" chine-exican greeting from somewhere behind him. Ming was dressed in a pair of slightly faded jeans, a wifebeater and a button up shirt with only the very top button actually buttoned; his hair was dark with grease and slicked back. He looked like he just stepped out of the movie "Mi Familia".

Yes, Ming's best kept secret is that he isn't really Asian at all. The truth is that he was a backalley coathanger abortion gone wrong and started out as nothing more than an abandoned fetus fending for himself on the mean streets of Tijuana . Through only the truest grit of character did he grow into leading a harsh life as a near feral orphan, often times prostituting himself for basic human needs, such as his prize Season 1 DVD box set of "One Tree Hill", since he thought that Chad Michael Murray was one smoking hot piece of ass.

That life was far behind him now, and when Ming was out with friends, he cut loose and got back to his roots in the motherland, not feeling required to maintain the facade of a chinese man on the interwebs.

Behind him was Anna, wearing her "Hafu" costume - a blank stare and a low cut v-neck shirt which, if she had cleavage, would be showing it off nicely.

"Where is Lusitania?", Bodi asked.

"We not partying with dat cavrone no mo', essay. Dat vato don't speak a word and just carries around that 3 foot by 4 foot framed picture of Adam Lambert in front of him everywhere he goes, I get don't get dat greengo, holmes - he ******* frightens me", Ming Replied.

"oooooh, flassshhhing liiiights", Anna said in her cute, innocent little valley-girl meets Ritalin-sedated tone.

All the usual players were there, Affix was in the corner looking painfully out of place with his pasty white, pimply self partaking in a super serious game of Magic the Gathering with Levidian, both of which were also carrying on a rather heated argument about which set of Dungeons and Dragons Rulesets "pwned" the hardest (they pronounced the word "pooned", /sigh...nerds).

Windrunner and Smokeee were on the dancefloor doing the whitest version of the "white boy shuffle" I've ever seen, and by looking at them, I couldn't discern which one was the wingman because they were both dancing with a couple of Hambeasts with fatty cankles the size of my bicep.

Vir, TheReaper and Slapnuts were sitting in the corner nursing their Shirlely Temples and Near-Beer, doing their best to look badass (and failing, of course) while eyeing the WoM crew, which Ming's streetsmarts and Heightened Senses (no pun intended) allowed him to pick up on; a knot formed in his stomach, he knew **** was about to get real up in this mamm-jamma.

As Vir stood up to make his move, Bodi swiftly leapt behind the bar, picked up the phone receiver and started shouting "Apoc, get us out of here" which was dishearteningly met by a voice recording telling him "if you would like to make a call, please hang up and dial the number again", he slammed the phone down in frustration, grabbed a bottled of Smirnoff, smashed off the end to form a makeshift weapon and held it out in front of him defensively.

Ming wet himself...

"tee-hee you tinkled", Anna giggled, completely unaware of the epicly bloody ****storm that was about to unfold.

And that's when it happened...

The front door of the club suddenly swung violently open and GibTehStix, the bouncer from outside, wandered in clutching his profusely bleeding throat and fell facedown onto the ground with a muffle thud. The DJ's record scratched to silence and 2 dark figures could be seen silhouetted in the doorway by the flashes of lighting dicing the night sky behind them...

Yep, the **** was definitely about to get real.

To be continued...

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