Lilly, The Half Chinese-Half Canadian

Excerpt from the book Hack

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I was running my new circuit around the neighborhood, when I started feeling exhausted. I was running this route for almost two months and I was normally able to run its length without stopping. I am not sure if I was physically or mentally tired, but I felt my energy fading. I slowed to a walk. The morning sun of Arizona shined and the quiet of the day was deafening.

I was trying to think of how to fix the homework business as I walked along. As I mulled over the same problems and possibilities again and again, I noticed something different. Could it be? It was an Asian. A hot Asian oasis emerged from the white trash desert.

She was tan with large tits bursting from her bathing suit top. She was extremely shapely, and her body accentuated the Daisy Dukes she wore. She was unlike any Asian I had ever seen with her blond highlighted hair and long flowing curls. Her toes and finger nails were mesmerizing with their complex mosaic of color and design. Individually, all the parts of the look might have been gaudy, but she made it hot.

As I approached I watched her sitting in the front of her house on a lounging lawn chair. She was tanning with her mirrored sunglasses perched on her head. Her eyes were closed and from time to time she would take a sip of her sad mixed drink in a plastic cup. Magazines littered the lawn around her chair, abandoned for her drink. She was Chinese, but she was a whole different kind of Chinese. This was no Chinese woman I had ever encountered, and I had to learn more. I approached and stopped in front of her yard. She briefly cracked her eyes sensing my presence. She waved her hand as if to say, “move along” while lazily stating:

I don’t want to join whatever church your selling; I don’t want to be a Mormon; I don’t want to do a survey; no, I am not Japanese I am half-Chinese and half-Canadian; yes, I am drinking at 10 a.m. on a Thursday; and I am fully aware that I am going to hell.

I said,

I guess that about covers it. One question, what do you mean half-Chinese and half-Canadian? Canada is a nationality not a race. If you are saying Canadian like it’s part of your race that doesn’t make any sense.

She opened her eyes, looked at me and asked, “Are you correcting my ethnicity?”

I returned,

No, well maybe…actually I think am correcting your nationality and race. You are saying Chinese-Canadian like being Canadian is somehow connected with your race. Canada is a country so it’s a nationality. That would be like me saying I am half-black and half-Italian.

She said in bitch defiance, “Chinese is a nationality, ethnicity, and race. Canada is the glue that holds it all together. Now go away, you are blocking my sun.”

I stood staring at her.

“Why are you still here?” she asked.

“Do you speak Chinese?” I asked.

“Of course; do you?” she asked.

“No, what part of Canada are you from?” I asked.

She said, “Toronto.”

“Say something in Chinese?” I asked.

She stated with a pompous look on her face, “Māo shì hēisè de.”*

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“It means fuck you. Now go away!” She stated in mild aggravation.

I said, “I don’t believe you. Say something else.”

She smiled and looked up and laughed, “ching yong chong ping ying pong.”

I laughed, “You don’t know fucking Chinese! What kind of Chinese-Canadian are you? I bet you have never been to Canada.”

She stated in smiling defiance, “My family was originally from Canada.”

“Where the hell are you from?” I asked again.

She pulled her sunglasses down to cover her eyes, then flipped back her blonde highlighted Chinese-Canadian hair and said with pride and a splash of arrogance, “I am from LA.”

Māo shì hēisè de. Translation: The cat is black.

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