The Jolly Joe Giant
Before noon, there is an eerie calm that sits on its haunches over the skyscrapers, houses, mazes of apartment complexes. The sky is cloudless, the air is breezeless, and there is an oddly unidentifiable pungency in the air.
*sniff*
The odor is getting stronger, more familiar. It is clear now what the smell is. It is fear, it is trepidation. The scent enters the bicyclists' nostrils as they brake, lean on one foot, and look up at the sky. The scent gives pause to the street vendors who normally sell discounted phone cards and lamb-meat skewers. They look at each other with a shared unspoken discomfort.
The children playing tag in the streets now stop and hide behind the skirts of their mothers and nannies.
Something is about to happen.
And then it slowly begins. First a muffled, languid drumbeat.
boom.......boom........boom
There is something dreadful about that sound. The children start crying. Dogs are scurrying around their leashes, trying to escape and barking out desperate cries.
boom.......boom........boom
Something's coming. The entire city can feel it, but no one can find it in them to move. It is as if time has stopped, but the smoke that escapes from the usually boisterous sidewalk cafes show that time is passing, albeit cautiously.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The drumbeat is getting louder now. Taxi drivers have now all stopped; some without passengers get out of their cabs, and their frightful anticipation adds to the communal cauldron of already steaming anxiety.
BOOM!
Suddenly, all that is frozen no longer is, as people start the run. What is coming has now arrived, and Shanghai is no longer petrified; it is tearing away. The mothers grab their children and run for safety. The cabs start moving again, though many of them crash into each other. The drivers and passenger do not take the time to bicker; they each bolt of the vehicles and run for shelter. Shop windows close with the flurry of a shuffling deck of cards. Garbage is strewn across the street as the rushing masses bully past trask cans, street signs, and bicycles.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The beats are now little earthquakes; the intervals between each one shortened like a metronome on amphetamines. Suddenly, a shadow engulfs the western part of the city. The booming stops. Except for the itinerant siren, Shanghai, though caked in darkness, is quiet once again. Empty.
The sun has been blotted out by the gargantuan force known in China as "Jiu" (Joe). Standing over 300 feet tall in a baggy white Ecko sweatshirt and baggy Snoop Dogg jeans, Joe stretches his arms behind his head and yawns. The force of his breath rushing out shatters all the glass from Hongmei Road down to Gubei Road.
An old woman who was knocked down by the streaming and screaming citizenry picks herself up from the ground. Looking up at the monster, she tries to yell but can only muster a whisper. "ta qi lai le" (he has awoken).
Joe steps on an ambulence. The pavement ruptures at each point of contact with his foot. With each shoe over 30 feet long and about 10 metric tons, there is very little that he has to step over.
"ME, JOE, SOBER!!!" He bellows. This time, all the glass down to Xujiahui shatter at his voice. At the hospital for the deaf, patients drape themselves out of their room windows and yell out in response, "So are we!"
Joe is angry. He has awaken from his slumber without the affects of any alcohol. This is intolerable to him; his destructive side takes over.
"ME!"
"JOE!"
"SOBER! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!!!"
He begins to beat his chest with his hands.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Two military helicopters approach, unloading machine-gun rounds in a staccato that gives hope to all Shanghai-nese who can hear below.
Joe roars in irritation. The bullets bounce off his titanium-like (yet oh so delicate looking) white skin. He grabs both helicopters and crams them into his mouth. After chewing thoughtfully for a few seconds, he spits out a 15 ton metal sculpture of Britney Spears.
Looking for something to satisfy his unacceptable sobriety, he begins jogging towards the crop of hotels in Gubei New Town. He does not have to jog far; he reaches the Marriott 3 miles away in 10 steps.
"ME! JOE! SOBER! ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAR!" He beats his chest again. The Chinese flag on top of the Marriott flies off its pole. He stops and sniffs; he smells woman. He leans down and sticks his finger into a room on the 54th floor. There is indeed a young woman in there. He gingerly picks her out from her hotel room, ignoring her hysterical shrieks. He drops her down his pants.
Standing up again, he looks around, searching for satiation. He searches for beer. This can not go on for much longer. Beer is his life force. Without it, he cannot survive for very long. His primitive brain knows this.
The woman has apparently survived the fall. She emerges from his waistline. She yells out to him: "Hey!"
He looks down at her. "Errrr?"
"For a guy with a pair of 30 foot-long feet, you sure have a tiny..."
Joe picks her up again and inserts her into one of his cargo-pant pockets. He likes spunky women.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Joe proceeds downtown, knocking down the Yan'an elevated road, the Shanghai Mart, the Westin hotel. The destruction is swift and complete. Shanghai had not been victim of such annihilation since Judy discovered the champagne brunch buffet at the Sheraton Tai Ping Yang.
He finally reaches the Huangpu River. He smiles. Across the river is the massive Tsing Tao Beer distillery. He lets out a roar of delight. The river floods the rubble behind him. Joe leaps over the chasm, knocking down the Grand Hyatt while bracing his fall. The magnificent hotel crashes down on Century Road, leveling 800 feet of Pudong Development District.
Joe drinks Tsing Tao. He licks the bottom of each vat. He feels the buzzing in his head. A smile creeps across his face. This creeping makes a sound much like the opening of the spillway at Hoover Dam. He lets out a burp. It registers a 6.7 on the Richter scale.
He stands up again. He is happy, but only for now. The moment of calm lasts a few minutes. The Shanghainese slowly begin to leave their shelters, cautiously assessing the damage, all the while keeping an eye on the destructive force that is Joe.
BOOM!
Suddenly, everyone scrambles back inside. The nightmare is yet to be over.
"ME! JOE! DRUNK!"
"ME! JOE! WANT NACHOS!"
*sniff*
The odor is getting stronger, more familiar. It is clear now what the smell is. It is fear, it is trepidation. The scent enters the bicyclists' nostrils as they brake, lean on one foot, and look up at the sky. The scent gives pause to the street vendors who normally sell discounted phone cards and lamb-meat skewers. They look at each other with a shared unspoken discomfort.
The children playing tag in the streets now stop and hide behind the skirts of their mothers and nannies.
Something is about to happen.
And then it slowly begins. First a muffled, languid drumbeat.
boom.......boom........boom
There is something dreadful about that sound. The children start crying. Dogs are scurrying around their leashes, trying to escape and barking out desperate cries.
boom.......boom........boom
Something's coming. The entire city can feel it, but no one can find it in them to move. It is as if time has stopped, but the smoke that escapes from the usually boisterous sidewalk cafes show that time is passing, albeit cautiously.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The drumbeat is getting louder now. Taxi drivers have now all stopped; some without passengers get out of their cabs, and their frightful anticipation adds to the communal cauldron of already steaming anxiety.
BOOM!
Suddenly, all that is frozen no longer is, as people start the run. What is coming has now arrived, and Shanghai is no longer petrified; it is tearing away. The mothers grab their children and run for safety. The cabs start moving again, though many of them crash into each other. The drivers and passenger do not take the time to bicker; they each bolt of the vehicles and run for shelter. Shop windows close with the flurry of a shuffling deck of cards. Garbage is strewn across the street as the rushing masses bully past trask cans, street signs, and bicycles.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The beats are now little earthquakes; the intervals between each one shortened like a metronome on amphetamines. Suddenly, a shadow engulfs the western part of the city. The booming stops. Except for the itinerant siren, Shanghai, though caked in darkness, is quiet once again. Empty.
The sun has been blotted out by the gargantuan force known in China as "Jiu" (Joe). Standing over 300 feet tall in a baggy white Ecko sweatshirt and baggy Snoop Dogg jeans, Joe stretches his arms behind his head and yawns. The force of his breath rushing out shatters all the glass from Hongmei Road down to Gubei Road.
An old woman who was knocked down by the streaming and screaming citizenry picks herself up from the ground. Looking up at the monster, she tries to yell but can only muster a whisper. "ta qi lai le" (he has awoken).
Joe steps on an ambulence. The pavement ruptures at each point of contact with his foot. With each shoe over 30 feet long and about 10 metric tons, there is very little that he has to step over.
"ME, JOE, SOBER!!!" He bellows. This time, all the glass down to Xujiahui shatter at his voice. At the hospital for the deaf, patients drape themselves out of their room windows and yell out in response, "So are we!"
Joe is angry. He has awaken from his slumber without the affects of any alcohol. This is intolerable to him; his destructive side takes over.
"ME!"
"JOE!"
"SOBER! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!!!"
He begins to beat his chest with his hands.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Two military helicopters approach, unloading machine-gun rounds in a staccato that gives hope to all Shanghai-nese who can hear below.
Joe roars in irritation. The bullets bounce off his titanium-like (yet oh so delicate looking) white skin. He grabs both helicopters and crams them into his mouth. After chewing thoughtfully for a few seconds, he spits out a 15 ton metal sculpture of Britney Spears.
Looking for something to satisfy his unacceptable sobriety, he begins jogging towards the crop of hotels in Gubei New Town. He does not have to jog far; he reaches the Marriott 3 miles away in 10 steps.
"ME! JOE! SOBER! ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAR!" He beats his chest again. The Chinese flag on top of the Marriott flies off its pole. He stops and sniffs; he smells woman. He leans down and sticks his finger into a room on the 54th floor. There is indeed a young woman in there. He gingerly picks her out from her hotel room, ignoring her hysterical shrieks. He drops her down his pants.
Standing up again, he looks around, searching for satiation. He searches for beer. This can not go on for much longer. Beer is his life force. Without it, he cannot survive for very long. His primitive brain knows this.
The woman has apparently survived the fall. She emerges from his waistline. She yells out to him: "Hey!"
He looks down at her. "Errrr?"
"For a guy with a pair of 30 foot-long feet, you sure have a tiny..."
Joe picks her up again and inserts her into one of his cargo-pant pockets. He likes spunky women.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Joe proceeds downtown, knocking down the Yan'an elevated road, the Shanghai Mart, the Westin hotel. The destruction is swift and complete. Shanghai had not been victim of such annihilation since Judy discovered the champagne brunch buffet at the Sheraton Tai Ping Yang.
He finally reaches the Huangpu River. He smiles. Across the river is the massive Tsing Tao Beer distillery. He lets out a roar of delight. The river floods the rubble behind him. Joe leaps over the chasm, knocking down the Grand Hyatt while bracing his fall. The magnificent hotel crashes down on Century Road, leveling 800 feet of Pudong Development District.
Joe drinks Tsing Tao. He licks the bottom of each vat. He feels the buzzing in his head. A smile creeps across his face. This creeping makes a sound much like the opening of the spillway at Hoover Dam. He lets out a burp. It registers a 6.7 on the Richter scale.
He stands up again. He is happy, but only for now. The moment of calm lasts a few minutes. The Shanghainese slowly begin to leave their shelters, cautiously assessing the damage, all the while keeping an eye on the destructive force that is Joe.
BOOM!
Suddenly, everyone scrambles back inside. The nightmare is yet to be over.
"ME! JOE! DRUNK!"
"ME! JOE! WANT NACHOS!"
posted by sushipanda at 2:43 PM
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