"What's the story with those bodies?", I ask Tong Au when we leave the hospital.
Tong Au looks away, still worried: "Just hobby. In Macao, we had him the dead patient in the freezer, for investigate cause of death, but we forgot. When you are dead, the hair and beard keep growing. After a year, we open the freezer and we find dead John Lennon there. So now, I take care of him the dead."
"Morbid hobby."
Tong Au shrugs: "Why? Death is part of life. You laugh at life, you laugh at death. Other one we had in the freezer. Her the wife came to say goodbye. She kissed, but the lips froze to him the dead husband's mouth. We thought she was passionate in love. We show the respect and not to listen to her cry. When we found out, she the woman was blue of lack of oxygen, half dead, half frozen. We had to do the artificial respiration to revive her, but nobody wanted to do it. Funny. Attractive woman, widow, like Snow White, to be kissed to come alive…"
Doc also has a story about dead people: "In the Leicester morgue, we received the remainders of a 49-year-old owner of a meat factory. The factory faced bankruptcy; the owner left a suicide note and jumped into a running meat grinder. It took us days to fix him for the funeral. The best we could do was a 75-kilo sausage in the coffin. An old friend consoled the widow, and six months later they celebrated their honeymoon in Cancun. What a surprise when the merry widow saw her late husband there on the beach, entertaining two blond twin sisters in their twenties, thanks to the money he got out of the company before he threw a dead pig and his laundry into the meat processor. His jealous wife hired a local drug addict to shoot Mister Meatloaf in the head. The local police had a hard time, investigating the murder of a man who had died half a year earlier, 10.000 kilometres away, and now showing up dead in a hotel room in their city."
Doc knows a cozy bar, close to the hospital. I suggest eating something first. Doc assures me I don't know the French qualities of food until I have eaten in a bar. I have my doubts. Doc lived and worked in Leicester. That's England. I've visited England. I know the food there. My stomach turns inside-out.
I'm right. The bar has sandwiches with jambon, sandwiches with fromage and sandwiches with ham and cheese. No haute cuisine, no bottom-line cuisine, no cuisine at all. We each try one of each. They are excellent. Doc orders shots of Cuban rum to go with them. The rum is exceptional, but I stop playing Cuban Roulette after the second shot. I can't risk a cubature rummage during my upcoming night shift.
"You should drink with us. We are your friends. You can't let your friends drink alone.", Doc complains.
Tong Au supports his friend Doc: "Yes. Serious drinking is fun. You should drink."
Why does stupid behaviour always make people feel compelled to convince others to join them?
"Hi, Doc. You want a smoke? What are you drinking? Cuban rum? Aren't you offering one to me, Manny, your best friend in Brest?"
Doc welcomes his new drinking mate: "Bugs, Tong Au, this is Manny, my supplier of every professional drug I can imagine. Manny, this is Tong Au, my colleague from Macao. This is Bugs, my assistant."
Manny comes from Manfred, but the amounts he consumes of his merchandise explain why everyone calls him Manny (many). He's a salesman too; he doesn't stop one second to listen to anyone else, just talks and talks and talks, and drinks, and smokes, and swallows, and sniffs: "Ah, from Macao, the Las Vegas of the Orient. Do you know Macao consumes more drugs in one night than the Colombian cartel produces in a year? I'm from Düsseldorf, the most boring city in Germany. This is good rum. Michelle, pour us another round. You don't drink, Bugs? That's better; for me, I mean. You want to join us with this joint? Marijuana from Morocco. This place is so boring. Don't waste your time. Take something to have fun. Try my XTC. I have speed too. Or you prefer cocaine? This XTC makes me a bit slow. I don't want to waste time. Coke keeps me alert. You need to have fun, you know. This place is so boring. But, thank G.O.D., there's Manny around. Manny always has something to have fun. Michelle, pour us another round. You sure don't want to join me with this joint? You join me with another drink? We need to have fun, get drunk, roll over, get laid down."
Doc refuses: "Tonight, I won't take a drink from your table, Manny. I'm on Prepoleptyl. Alcohol won't have any effect on me, except rolling me over and laying me straight down on the floor. This rum is just for the taste. Emptying a bottle will kill me, but I can't get drunk. The same goes for other drugs. Maybe next time."
I heard an interesting remark in Manny's monologue: "G.O.D.? Do you have it? How did you get it? What does it look like? Manny? HEY! MANNY!"
Manny has no time to waste. This place is so boring. He wants to have immediate, instant fun. While he tried to convince us of all the advantages of his merchandise, he smoked, sniffed and swallowed a specimen of everything. Now, he slowly closes his eyes while he disappears under the table, roll over, lay down, enjoying the most exciting private party ever.
"Should we call a doctor?", I ask.
"Don't worry. I'm a doctor and Tong Au is a doctor too. These are just recreational drugs, meant to make you feel good. I'm sure Manny is fine. Have another shot of rum. I'm buying."
Another bar stander wants to join us at our table: "Hi, I'm Dominique. I'm an alcoholic, and I've been sober for six hours."
"Congratulations, Dominique.", I say.
"Aren't you going to invite me for a drink? I'm broke, you know. Being an alcoholic is an expensive hobby."
"Nice try, Dominique.", I say.
"You're a selfish asshole. You have so much and others have nothing.", Dominique shouts.
"If you're thirsty, I'll get you a mineral water, but if you keep shouting at me, I'll get you a whole bucket of water and pour it over your head. It's your choice."
Dominique chooses to try his luck at another table.
Tong Au wonders: "He this man insults you and you don't slap him?"
"An insult is just like a shot of rum: it only has an effect when you accept it. Words are just wind and bad breath. They can't hurt you. It says more about the one who speaks the words than about the one they were spoken to.", I explain.
Tong Au shakes his head: "In my country, you say something like that, and I slap your face."
I shake my head too: "Fighting is my daily work, but this is my night off. I'm here to have fun, although I haven't been laughing much so far."
Tong Au empties his glass: "We need company. We need her the girls." He feels brave enough to invite three girls to our table: "Come here with us. We have fun. Have fun with us too. We do serious drinking."
The girls laugh at each other about his poor attempt. One of them, a woman in her thirties with long brown hair, sneers: "Having fun? You're getting drunk to forget you're not having fun at all."
I agree with the girls: "She's right, you know. Look at Manny here. What's the fun of going out until we're passing out? Is it fun to get drunk, get drugged, and get laid?"
Doc doesn't bother: "That's life. You work, you drink, you fall asleep, and then you wake up to go to work again. It's been like that for ages. Even Jesus Christ was a drinker."
I object: "That's life? That's a lack of imagination, Doc. Only your own stupidity holds you from changing boring customs. Don't you have any fantasy at all? Can't you invent something better to do? I thought you were an inventor. I challenge you, and Tong Au, with these three girls as our witnesses and jurors. Each one of us should make the others laugh. If you fail, you pay a round, but if we all three succeed, the girls admit having the funniest evening of the year and they buy us a round. How's that?"
The girls already have fun. They like the idea and join us at our table (first we drag stoned Manny away and park him against the bar, where he can have more fun). We introduce ourselves. The girls tell us they work together in a supermarket; the woman with the brown hair is Nicole, the youngest, shy with blond short hair, is Colette, and the older woman with the Indian looks is Padma.
Doc wants to know the rules of the challenge: "How many attempts do we have?"
"As many as you like. You try to make us laugh until we admit we're having fun. I'll start…", I say. Outside, I find a little kiosk and buy a few sacks of peanuts, the ones with shells around them. I'm not sure how French bartenders feel about customers, taking their own food, so I give two sacks to Michelle behind the bar and tell her to share them with the customers; eating peanuts encourages you to buy more drinks. She agrees with a smile. She's from Scotland. In Scottish pubs, people do the same.
I explain: "Peanut Petanque. After tonight, this game will become the new national sport of France, and probably of the entire world. The rules are easy. I place one peeled peanut, the 'marker', in the centre of that table over there… like this. Each of us gets four peanuts. You throw your nuts as close to the marker as you can. If your nut falls on the ground, you're not allowed to throw your remaining ones. If your peanut ends closest to the marker, you win and can eat all the nuts."
Tong Au mutters: "You're nuts."
I reply: "Tell that to those in your hands."
Doc asks: "And this is fun?"
I say: "Is it fun to watch football? Is it fun to play cards? If you win, it's fun. For you, it's boring, because I'm good at this. I'll win with two fingers in my nose. Look and be afraid."
I sit on the backside of our table, furthest away from the marker, but I'm good at this game. My four peanuts all fall close to the goal. Small applause from our female jurors encourages Tong Au to try it too, but his first peanut bounces on the ground.
"This can't be as difficult as it looks.", Doc says. His first three peanuts end on the table, but not one of them lands closer than my four. His last one flies into the beer of an innocent bystander. The girls laugh out loud. I stand up, collect and eat my prize: "Victory always tastes sweet." I give my friends a new set of four nuts: "Try again, but you have to do better than this. Perhaps the girls should help you. We can form teams of two."
The girls take this seriously; they don't want to lose. Padma has a good hand; she helps her teammate Tong Au to win the next three rounds. Doc throws his nuts without motivation, but his teammate Nicole hits him at the back of his head, she likes to eat peanuts too, and they win the next hand. My teammate Colette doesn't hit the table even once. I tell her it doesn't matter, that it's just a game, that it's just peanuts if you win, that she can do it, that it's just bad luck she has, that it's getting much better already, that she should try to throw a little higher, that she should not throw so high… Nothing works.
For some reason, it's me who has to stand up all the time, collect the nuts and give them to the winners. When I'm half under the table to pick up a peanut from the ground, I look back under my arm and see all three girls looking at me with naughty grins and more than usual interest.
Surprised, I ask: "Are you looking at my butt?"
Colette confesses: "Why do you think I throw all the peanuts on the floor? So we can look at your bum. You have quite an attractive bum. Bend over again. There's another peanut under that chair over there…"
Now, it's not just the girls who laugh out loud. Doc and Tong Au also laugh at me. But I have the last laugh. With a modest but amused smile, I say: "Thanks for laughing. I enjoy watching you all, having so much fun. It proves I've won my challenge."
Tong Au is next. He starts the conventional way: telling jokes.
"He the Chinese and he the Jew sit on a bar. He the Chinese says: «Our people exist for already 4.000 years.» And he the Jew says: «Our people exist for already 5.000 years.» So he the Chinese says: «Impossible. Where did they eat the first 1.000 years?»"
I almost grin, but we all know what's at stake here: honour, glory and paying a round. Tong Au will not walk away so easily. He has to do better than this. His second attempt is better: "He the Chinese and he the Jew sit on a bar. He the Jew says: «You people started the World War Two.» He the Chinese says: «No, that was the Japanese. I'm the Chinese.» And he the Jew says: «Japanese, Chinese, Taiwanese… for me, it's all the same.» And then he the Chinese says: «You people sank the Titanic.» He the Jew says: «The Titanic hit an iceberg.» And he the Chinese says: «Goldberg, Silverberg, Iceberg… for me, it's all the same.»"
Silence is deadly. Tong Au doesn't give up yet: "He the Chinese comes at the police station: «My cat ran away.» He the officer grabs the pencil for notes and asks: «Characteristics of the cat?» and he the Chinese says: «Tastes like chicken…»"
Tong Au doesn't get it. When he tells these jokes in a casino in Macao, everyone falls from hor chair with laughter. But here? Not even one smile. He mutters: "You the French, you don't have the humour like us, the Chinese. Okay. No problem. We do the singing. Singing is fun. We sing together. I sing the first line. The rest is the same, so you can sing with me. Okay? Okay.
» There's a lady in red… And she wants it in the bed…
» There's a lady in red… And she wants it in the bed…
» There's a lady in red… And she wants it in the bed…
» There's a lady in black… And she wants it from the back…
» There's a lady in black… And she wants it from the back…
» There's a lady in black… And she wants it from the back…
» There's a lady in blue… And she wants it—"
"But not with you…", Nicole interrupts: "Obscene songs might work in a bar full of drunk, horny men, Tong Au, but in the company of three nice, educated ladies like us, it's not funny at all."
Tong Au doesn't understand: "You don't like music?"
"Oh, we do like music, but Elvis Presley style, a handsome man, with respect for women, singing about Love Me Tender and romance.", Nicole explains.
Finally, Tong Au understands: "Ah, karaoke. Romantic Gangnam Style. «Eeeeeh… Sexy Lady…» Don't worry. I can do that too."
In the next five minutes, Tong Au shows why Las Vegas and the authentic Elvis were peanuts compared with Macao and Tong Au in his Elvis imitation. After he convinced the DJ to play «Love Me Tender», the long version, full volume, he grabs the microphone and starts to sing. In his expensive dark suit, with his round face and his thin black hair glued in a curve around his skull, with his hardly understandable accent and a voice that sounds like a crow with a cold, Tong Au has nothing that reminds us about The King, but Tong Au doesn't care. He's working hard to be romantic. First, he steals a kiss from a young woman; her jealous fiancé quasi-objects and the bar shakes with laughter. Then, he offers a rose to an elder lady and makes her blush. He moves his pelvis and shakes his tail feather. Then he climbs on the bar and falls on his knees to look into the green eyes of Michelle, but his base of several shots of Cuban rum make him lose his balance: he rolls over, falls down, and ends with his butt in the wash basin full of water, trying to save himself with his free right hand by grabbing the handle of the beer tap, opening it at full power, beer splashing everywhere while Tong Au disappears behind the bar. Roll over, lay down. End of the show. Elvis has left the building. We laugh so much that our stomachs hurt. Tong Au has given us a rock-hard workout for our laughter muscles.
There's one challenge left: Doc.
Doc is ready. He asks for the microphone and makes a gesture to the DJ to turn off the music.
"Dear all. I have a challenge. I hope you all want to cooperate. If I can't make you laugh out loud, I will pay you all a drink, a shot of Cuban rum. It will take only five minutes of your time. Do we have a deal?"
The collective «Yeah!» is French and means we have a deal.
Doc continues: "I'm from Cuba. Cubans are famous for five things. First: we make the best rum in the world…" (everyone agrees) "Second: we have the best healthcare, the best nurses and the best doctors of the world…" (most of us, including me, agree. The others have no experience with Cuban doctors) "Third: we Cubans are the best dancers of the world…" (now most of us don't agree, especially with this Cuban in front of us, with his leg in plaster of Paris, but we're curious about the rest, so we don't make a big thing of it) "Forth: our famous Cuban cigars have no rivals. Fifth, and I'm here to prove this one: we Cubans are the best kissers on the planet…"
Doc has a hard time making himself heard. Saying this in France, where the French kisses come from, makes it quite a statement, but Doc smiles bravely and explains: "My friend Bugs will blindfold me. Then four women, completely at random, one by one, will kiss me. After each kiss, I will tell you four to six characteristics of the woman who just kissed me, things I know by nothing more than by the kiss she gave me. You all have to be quiet. She nods when I'm right or shakes her head when I'm wrong. Bugs will say «correct» or «wrong» after each characteristic I mention. I'm allowed a maximum of one mistake per woman. When I make the second mistake, I lose and pay for a round. Do we have a deal?"
We have a deal, we have the interest from everyone, including the waitress and the DJ behind the bar, and we have Doc sitting in his wheelchair in the centre of the room, blindfolded with three neckties and a towel. Are we ready to start? We are. Quiet as mice, we hang on Doc's lips.
The first kiss…
Doc licks his lips: "A strong kiss with strawberry flavour, my favourite fruit. This is a passionate woman, a woman with initiative. She's intelligent. She's between 30 and 40 years old. Her hair is long and dark. She has been married but is now divorced. Am I right?"
I confirm each fact with a «Correct». Modest applause announces the second kiss…
"A soft kiss, hardly touching my lips… This woman is young. She's between 20 and 25 years old. She's single. Shy. With blond, shortcut hair. She's attractive, small and slim. Am I right?"
Louder applause now. The third kiss…
"A hungry kiss, longing for more, with an aroma of sandalwood and spicy food. This woman is from Indonesia or India or perhaps the Philippines. She's over 50 years old but looks like 30. She's married, well dressed, and elegant. Am I right?"
The applause grows with every next kiss…
"This fourth kiss is prudent. This is a woman who knows what she wants, and she doesn't want me (she doesn't know what she's missing). It tastes salty… This woman works as a cook, or a waitress, perhaps. She has red hair and it wouldn't surprise me if she's from Scotland. She's stout and optimistic, and she likes to laugh. Am I right?"
The applause and the laughter make Doc feel like a winner. We take off his blindfold. In front of him stand four women: Nicole with dark long brown hair, Colette with blond, shortcut hair, elegant well-dressed Padma from India, and the fourth is Michelle, our red-haired barmaid from Glasgow.
Doc laughs and says aloud: "I told you I would make you all laugh out loud, but the last laugh is on my, as I'm the only one in this bar who kissed four beautiful women on the mouth, ha, ha."
The audience laughs like this was the best joke ever. I grab the microphone and point at the fifth one in the row, while I say: "It's not so hard to focus on the ten or eleven ladies in the room and pick one of them after being kissed, Doc, but we all were witnesses and we've all seen who kissed you. You were the one with the blindfold… Tong Au kissed you four times, and you haven't noticed even once."
The last laugh is always the best. Doc can do nothing else but pay us the promised round, although… he did make us laugh, and it was indeed the funniest stunt of the evening.