Authors note: Back by popular demand. I occurred to me when I was writing SuperNatural, what does it take to make an organic fighting machine, capable of tops speeds, in-human strength, and a sharp wit. So, I created Chiun. The 'Little Father' of Remo Jones, the Destroyer. Once again, if people like these characters, and would like to read more, I would be happy to collaborate in a joint story. I'm just too lazy and caught up with other work, i.e. Metal Gear and SuperNatural, to continued with these characters. So email me at [email protected]. Enjoy!
The Destroyer - Little Father
Chiun wanted to be a writer.
He pondered upon the possibility of this career during a commercial. He would tell the world of a man who wished to be alone with beauty. A man whom the moons of time had made desirous of only the gentlest beauty. A man who asked little for himself and gave much. A man who saw in a wild and boisterous land a glorious art form which thrilled the soul.
This poor old wise and beloved man wanted nothing more then to be allowed the few precious moments of peace in which to spend his declining years appreciating the beautiful stories of 'Day Of Our Lives', 'Bold And the Beautiful', and 'Passions'.
Then upon this wonderfully sweet and most gentle man did thoughtlessly burst in three crude and cruel villains.
They cared not for the beauty of drama.
They cared not for the meager pleasures of this sweet, wise, beloved old man.
They cared only for their villainous, cruel and despicable schemes.
They stole light from the box which gave art.
With disdain, they pressed the button which made beauty no more.
With cruel heartlessness, they stole the beloved wise man's only joy.
So what could this beloved creature do, but arrange as best he could to watch the show in peace?
Ah, but the story was not finished. Would an ungrateful, lazy student understand? Would he care that the Master of Sinanju, who had given him knowledge beyond that of any white man, lost the one true meager pleasure of his sparse life?
No. He would not.
He would concern himself with who picked up this piece of something. Or who picked up that piece of something. Or who did which cleaning chore or the other. That is what the ingrate would concern himself with. That was his nature. That was his character.
Ah, if only Chiun could tell this story to the world in word pictures. Then, others might be able to understand the plight of a sweet, beloved old man.
The door to the hotel suite opened.
The Master of Sinanju would not lower himself to petty haggling.
The door slammed shut.
"Chiun. If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times. If you kill 'em, you clean 'em up." Remo said.
The Master of Sinanju refused to be drawn into haggling.
"What with a Supreme Court decision, there's now only one crime in America punishable by death. Turning off your stupid soap operas."
The Master of Sinanju would not be provoked into name calling.
"Will you answer me? Did you whack these guys because they turned off your soap opera?"
The Master of Sinanju refused to indulge in recriminations.
"Chiun. This has got to stop. I mean it."
The Master of Sinanju would overlook the disrespect shown.
"Will you help me get them into these trunks?"
The Master of Sinanju refused to do cleaning chores of a woman after being so thoroughly insulted.
"Sometimes, Chiun, I hate you."
The Master of Sinanju had known this all along, otherwise why should the ungrateful pupil care so little for the meager pleasures of an old man.
Ah, to be a writer...