Monday, Sept. 08, 2003 - 4:25 p.m.

You Got Nailed - part two

1:32 p.m. Sitting trapped in the salon�s unwholesome unhealthy atmosphere breathing in a noxious miasma of vapors gushing from the ceramic bowls, manicure table, the walls, the floor commingled with the stench of the body fumes lofting from Happy and the other dwarfs I began to feel sanity escape me.

1:33 p.m. In my delirium I was able to convince myself that the green tea I so enjoyed was laced with an opiate intended to dope me into sedation.

1:34 p.m. The sudden awareness that consciousness was fleeting I stood and attempted my way to the trilogy of front doors. The void of color in my face seemed to upset the other customers either that or it was the strange and eerie laugh emitting from Happy. I found her cackle, filled with taunt and ridicule, reminiscent of a fetish film I once saw about prisoners of war incarcerated and tortured by the Viet Kong.

1:35 p.m. The thought of waking up naked in a bamboo cage suspended over a mosh pit crowded with gay-sians drove me closer and closer to the door.

1:48 p.m. Next thing I knew I woke up staring into the surgical masks of a half dozen or so Korean faces all talking at once, all talking a mile a minute in a lilt synonymous with nails on a blackboard. Still a bit dazed and confused and believing I�ve fallen victim to a Korean organ stealing crime ring I frantically frisk my self for incisions. Confident I�m retaining both my kidneys as well as my liver I attempt to move only to find myself rising from the floor only steps from my manicure table.

1:49 p.m. Happy, in a selfless act to distract the others from my humiliation, announced, "He big girl fraint all over my froor." One of her cohorts was about to add to the mocking but was cut off by the tinkling of a little bell followed by a tongue lashing in Korean I could only image meant, "Get back to work!"

1:52 p.m. Back in the chair Happy finishes my manicure with a final buffing. In a hushed voice she asks, "Garroo, you want adopt baby?" "Maybe one day," I said. Happy continues talking adding a kindred emotion to her voice, "I know one ready now. Her name Mae Mae and one day she grow up and do your nayos like new."

1:53 p.m. With a hint of a disapproving smile I rose from my chair, admired my flawlessly restored hands, dropped thirteen dollars on the table (9 for the mani plus 4 as a tip) and left Happy Nails amidst the sweet tittering of the indentured manicurists left behind.

1:55 p.m. Shit, I didn't get a receipt.

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