Jim

748 Wonton Way

Chinatown, Widdlington, Waldonia

January 27th, 2023, 13:53

While on his quest for a vocal cord parasite to deal with the Australopithecan problem, a tip from Dr. Larry Fraser led Master Devlin to a place Larry referred to as "Jim's." In a narrow, neon-soaked street, Master Devlin stood before an establishment called James Hong's Carnival of Curiosities. Waldo was asleep under the Master's wing.

"Wake up, Widdle Frunkut," the Master said, nudging the snoozing goblin. "Also, have your wits about you. You don't want to end up in a soup again."

Waldo stirred, stretched, and hopped to the ground. Together, they entered the dimly lit shop, a place that exuded mystery. It was packed with bizarre curiosities, reminiscent of the antique store from Gremlins.

"Ah, customers."

A wizened shopkeeper appeared, seemingly two centuries old, with a flowing Fu Manchu moustache. Despite his ancient visage, his voice was curiously youthful, carrying a distinct San Francisco Bay Area accent.

"Welcome to James Hong's Carnival of Curiosities... where we sell a wide selection of forbidden items from places men fear to tread..."

Waldo turned to the Master. "I'll handle this. Follow my lead..."

Waldo approached the shopkeeper, bowed his head, and began to do an offensive caricature of a Chinaman. "Ah, good day to roo, sir. Ching ping, ling fong..."

"Widdle Frunkut, what are you doing?" a bemused Master quizzed.

"I'm bartering with the shopkeep... Gonna jinga Jack Bauer shou shem jong?" Waldo continued.

The Master rolled his eyes and shook his head in disbelief.

The old man looked at the little goblin and then at the Master. "Is your pet alright?" Jim asked curiously.

"I do apologise, he's not well," the Master replied. "Waldo, you can't speak Chinese just because you slant your eyes like that."

"Me so sally Ching chong Ping ling."

"Jim sighed. "Not well, huh? Well, I don't have any goblin medicine, but I do have some lutin milk around here somewhere. That might put a spring in its step. Give you a good price..." He took a casual drag from an opium pipe. "Oh, and I just got a new shipment of mogwai. Interested in a trade?"

"Uh, no, thank you. And please don't give him any lutin milk. Waldo, go sit in the corner and behave," the Master said, ordering Waldo over to the corner. He turned back to the proprietor. "Mr. Hong? I am Master Devlin. Larry Fraser sent me. He said you may have some vocal cord parasites."

"Jim, please. And, yes. I have them right here..." He reached down under the counter and brought up a few jars, placing them on the counter. "Larry called ahead... There we are."

"Excellent... I will give you some dragon blood and dragon skin in exchange, if that will suffice?"

"I'm afraid I have far too much of that in stock already. No one buys dragon anymore... no offense."

"Oh..."

"There was this one fellow. Used to send him parts by post. He had a pet shop, supposedly. Never met him."

The Master turned and scowled at Waldo. "Waldo? Care to explain yourself?"

"No!" Waldo replied with an innocent smile.

"I'll deal with you later," the Master said, turning back to Jim. "What would you accept as payment, then?"

"Money's good," Jim said, shrugging nonchalantly. "I like money."

"Oh..."

"These two are African, priced at £77.97 each. This rare Arctic one is £97.50. Which one would you like?"

"I want to take care of this ape infestation—the Australopithecus. Do you have ones which will deal with that?"

"Well, I suppose any one of these can be modified to target certain groups..." Jim stopped to stroke his moustache. "But that's outside my area..."

"Very well. I'll take the African ones then. They come from that part of the world."

"Excellent choice, sir. That'll be £155.94."

The Master gave him a stack of cash.

"Your change, sir..."

"Thank you."

"And here's your receipt."

"Oh, thank you."

"Would you like a bag?"

"Um, yes. Please."

Jim put the two jars in a plastic bag and handed it to the Master, who suddenly felt a little lightheaded. From his perspective, the lights seemed to go out momentarily. Then, just as suddenly, he felt fine again and gave his head a light shake. Jim was staring at him with a curious look.

"Larry mentioned you'd want something more valuable and wouldn't part with these vocal cord parasites so easily... I'm not complaining, just curious," the Master said, continuing the conversation.

"Larry is a doctor. He makes the big bucks. £155 is a lot to me... very expensive."

"Oh, I see... Fair enough."

"Yes, well. Thank you for shopping at James Hong's Carnival of Curiosities. Do come again! And tell your friends! Though, I would prefer next time you didn't stand in my shop in a fugue state for several day."

"Days?" The Master blinked in confusion. He then suddenly realized that Jim was wearing different clothes and had even had a haircut. Another damn fugue state had robbed him of days...

"I apologise. I'm suffering from the effects of time travel," the Master said.

"I see... I was waiting on the Council to have you removed. Nothing personal, but you were emitting noxious gas. It was scaring other customers away."

"You'll be waiting a further six months for the Council... but I do apologise, again."

The Master handed Jim a large stack of cash. "The goblin didn't do anything weird, did he?"

"No, he was perfectly pleasant."

Waldo gave an angelic, yet somewhat smug smile.

"Though he did leave for 48 hours." Jim added, counting the cash.

"WHAT?? WALDO! Where did you go?"

"Just around the town. We knew you'd be a while!" Waldo explained.

The Master suddenly froze.

"Oh no, not again," Jim said, rushing over to the Master. He waved his hand in front of the Master's face, but there was no response. Jim walked over to the corner of the shop and grabbed a broom. He then used the broom to start nudging the Master, slowly sliding him towards the door.

"We'll help!" Waldo said excitedly, jumping to his feet.

Waldo rushed over and launched the Master, ejecting him from the shop through the front window. Sunlight filled the shop suddenly. Engulfed in the light, Jim hissed violently and screeched before turning to dust.

"Oh... Come on, Masta. Let's book!"

The Master lay amongst the wreckage out in the street, still in a fugue state. Waldo grabbed a pawful of Jim's ashes and stuffed them in his pocket. Then he stole the cash register, a magic lamp, and the lutin milk, putting them in the plastic bag with the parasites.

"Stan. We. ARE. LEAVING!" Waldo shouted.

Waldo started dragging the Master down the street by his ankles. His face was scratched and scuffed along the cobblestones. After a few minutes, the Master regained consciousness.

"What... What happened? Widdle Frunkut! Where are we... Oh dear... I appear to have shit myself," the Master said, looking around in a daze.

"That's right, Masta. You voided your bowels all over Jim's shop."

"Oh dear."

"He went for you. We've never seen such Chinese rage!"

"Hmm..."

"The crazy old Chinaman kung fu kicked you through the window! Waldo got us out of there, though!"

"Thank you, Widdle Frunkut."

"You're welcome, Sir! Though these fugue states are becoming a problem, Masta. You should see a doctor. Or maybe a psychiatrist!"

"Perhaps. Well, at least we still have the vocal cord parasites. We've got an Australopithecus infestation to deal with. Let's head to Masterbase..."