Reply To: The Time-Dragglers’ Extravaganzas

“Fucking hell, THAT is monsoon…” a drenched Cheung Lok said to his unlikely traveling companion.
It was days they were travelling through the bogs, following an ancient trail of signposts that the hook-legged man seemed to know about.
The both of them were soaked to the marrow, and every step in the bog became perilous, as with each inch of raising water, there was no telling which hole in the landscape hid a shallow puddle or a deep trench.

Cheung Lok felt like being back in China, during the rainy season, with the strange and absurd impression that having evoked the notion in the first place was the only explanation for the sudden change of weather. At least that was what the other had explained him, only succeeding in amplifying the event he meant to dissipate.

How not to focus on rain, when rain is all there is. I bet a hygrometer would tell it’s 100% humid now…

As soon as the thought was entertained, sure enough there was a funny-shaped hygrometer hanging by a small tree of the mangrove, telling exactly that. 100%

– “倒霉!” Cheung Lok swore loudly, then got even more enraged when he noticed the Chinese swear word for shit happens “out of luck” meant “mouldy” and was written with the ‘rain’ 雨 radical.

“You know what you need, a good old tiger slug to suck on your feet, pal. That’s a way to snap out of it.”

“Well, thanks, but I’ll pass”, snickered Cheung Lok, wondering what flood gates would open if he started to peek into his repressed but genuine desires.