Concubine, Concubine

As the King's favorite concubine, I know certain things. I know that outside these walls, all Chinese children are being slaughtered like pigs. He tells it to me in detail so that I am able to see what goes on. The children first then the adults.

The Chinese community is thrown in confusion. All their dead children line the pavements. They are not buried; their stink allowed to weigh heavy around them like a shroud.

"Why kidnap them when I can kill them?"

"Do they smell like dimsum -- the Chinese, I mean -- when they're left to rot?"

"Like rotten dimsum." The King can't make up his mind who's funnier -- him or me.

Elephants stomp around the disheveled city just because the King thinks it would be a hilarious picture and I have to admit it kinda is.

The King and I huddle together in a naughty air of conspiracy. It's all a childish prank to him. With his one hand in between my legs and his other hand cupping his mouth to my ear, he tells me his other gruesome pranks. He set China town on fire because "it's so ugly and smelly." It was funny, he adds, to watch the little Chinese "peasants" run around speaking Chinese that "sounded ugly."

Something occurs to me. "Do you rape the women?"

"What for? Anyone I fuck will just like it."

His hand between my legs. I can't think. I can't follow his logic. I can't argue.

"Castro is coming to wage war on me. He loves the Chinese."

"Noli de Castro?"

"Fidel Castro. Hello! Let him come. Let him make his way to me."

Dead Chinese bodies will line the runway he lands on. Dead Chinese bodies will be the dimsum he eats. Dead Chinese bodies will make the incense to scent the air he breathes. Dead Chinese bodies will be the very streets he walks on.

"You're crazy," I tell him, "What makes you think he simply won't send a nuclear missile from Cuba?"

He laughs.

He lays me on the bed and starts fucking me.

"Concubine, concubine. My favorite, favorite concubine."