Anyway, Steel stay urging Lem not to fight Jean and the other Haitians, cuz Steel don’t want the rig boss Mister Chow to twist his wontons about it. Steel don’t care, leave the Haitians to they voodoo, no skin off Steel’s pecker if they go to Hell.
Mister Chow gonna frown like a spilled wok at a stabbing. Mister Chow was like that, he a strict string bean. Not skinny though, he plump, real fat for a Chinaman, but you know, he sorta shaped like a bokchoy. An upside-down bokchoy with a sad mustache. He ugly for a Chinaman, they usually pretty, but he ugly, and he got unfortunate but accurate views on bwack men. Chinese men shouldn’t have mustaches, but that’s another diversity, so Steel ain’t going there.
The fight ended only when Mister Chow barreled in like a shouty rickshaw, bellowing out slantways commands that ain’t nobody understand cuz he talked like an angry Chinaman. Anyway, the no-fighting parta his commands was cweah as gwass, and the Haitians dismounted from they brawl. They handled things among they own, and they prolly made up, or maybe not, Steel don’t know and don’t care. They left the story at this point anyway, and Mister Chow did likewise, on his cute little dumpling legs, still glaring or maybe just looking at the Haitians who marched out afronta him.
Chinese men shouldn’t have mustaches, but that’s another diversity, so Steel ain’t going there.
He ugly for a Chinaman, they usually pretty, but he ugly, and he got unfortunate but accurate views on bwack men. Chinese men shouldn’t have mustaches, but that’s another diversity, so Steel ain’t going there.