Howard Goldblatt (Editor) - Chairman Mao Would Not Be Amused – Fiction From Today

"Cram it back in!" the old devil Kiddie Wu urged the people crowding round, but how in the world were they to do that?

Back in the pigpen, Wheatie Liu's wife had soiled herself; she could neither stand nor speak, and as she sat amid the muck and blood, she heard the shouts of someone running around the yard in a panic: "The former village chief has killed the current one!"

Wheatie Liu had an older brother named Millet; his younger brothers were Rice and Beans. Most place and personal names in Fritter Hollow have something to do with food. If, for instance, someone is called Hundred Cereals, pretty soon there'll be someone named Thousand Cereals, then Ten Thousand Cereals; since the people of Fritter Hollow have no concept of million, the next in the series will be Heavenly Cereals, reaching the apex-until, that is, a rival family has a newborn baby whom they promptly name Gobble Cereals! Heavenly Cereals' family accepts the challenge, and the battle is engaged-fisticuffs, brandishing lit torches, and the like; few ever go so far as to pick up a knife and actually commit murder, as Talented Wu did.

Wheatie Liu was so fit that Talented Wu's attacks did not prove fatal, surprising no one. He even continued as village chief. No problem. Or hardly any. For three days after the death of Talented Wu, Wheatie Liu fell seriously ill. He'd never been sick a day in his life prior to 1992, as nearly as anyone could recall-not even a headache or a high fever. What could this mean?

Like most villages, Fritter Hollow boasted a school, which was located in a local temple, whose clay idols, painted or not, had long since disappeared. The school was charged with teaching the local tots how to read some basic words, such as attend school and finish school, cow and sheep, boy and girl ; how to write New Year's couplets, like "The earth is our mother" and "Nature rewards hard work"; and how to make banners for house-raisings that say RAISE THE ROOF BEAM FOR ETERNAL GOOD FORTUNE. There was a time when everyone had to know how to write "Fight selfishness, repudiate revisionism" and "Serve the people," but no one studied those things anymore.

Besides the school, Fritter Hollow had a country store, also like all villages, which had once been called a purchasing co-op; but now that name had fallen out of favor, and it was simply called the country store. Behind the country store, which was situated neither too far east nor too far south, stood a scrawny old tree of medium height, covered by fat red wriggling caterpillars known as hairy worms; actually, the name doesn't fit since they never grow real hair. Some people cook them over an open fire and eat them. Like all country stores, this one boasted a counter, some wooden shelves for stock, and blackened vats filled with soy sauce and vinegar. The shelves were lined with colorful canned goods and narrow-necked liquor bottles; ready-to-eat snacks and simple cotton goods were available plus, of course, hard candies. In the past, none of this stuff would have sold, but the coal mines changed that, and now it nearly flew out the door.

Every country store must have a proprietor; Fritter Hollow's proprietor had a scar on his neck, so everyone called him Scarface; a bit wide of the mark, perhaps, but Scarneck sounded funny, so Scarface it was. A man of thirty-five, Scarface was unusually fat. When there were no customers, he could normally be found sleeping atop the store counter. But on this particular day, he was running around busily, taking care of a steady stream of customers, until finally he asked one of them what was going on and learned that Wheatie Liu had fallen ill.

The first to buy canned goods and snacks to take along when calling on Wheatie Liu were men from the mines. They drifted in, made their purchases, and drifted out. Then came the villagers, who also drifted in, made their purchases, and drifted out. They came, and they came, and by nightfall the shelves were empty.

Broad Bean, the final customer of the day, was carrying a flashlight.

"Why so damned late? I've got nothing to sell," Scarface said.

"Who all's going?" Broad Bean could have kicked himself for being so late and letting the others buy up everything.

"People these days are all fucked up," Scarface blurted out. "Smell that," he continued, sniffing the air. "The guy's been dead for days now, and nobody's doing anything about it."

"Why don't you bring it up with Wheatie Liu?" Broad Bean said, flashing his light back and forth across Scarface's face. Back and forth, then straight in his eyes, then back and forth again. "Got the nerve?" Broad Bean asked.

In twenty or thirty years' time, when members of the next generation of Fritter Hollow's inhabitants look back on their glorious history, they may well talk about the time Wheatie Liu took ill and received 500 gifts of canned food. If that's all they say, of course, the word history is being ill served, so I must break in with a more revealing look at what happened that time Wheatie Liu took ill.

A conversation was recorded between Broad Bean and Wheatie Liu as the latter sat on his own kang, leaning up against a colorful backrest; the sides of the brick bed were decorated with depictions of colorful pomegranates, peonies, plum blossoms, watermelons, rabbits, bananas, pears, peanuts, apricots, and of course, magpies and goldfish.

Wheatie Liu had been enjoying a leisurely smoke when Broad Bean entered; the table, the kang, and the windowsill were all but covered with canned goods and packaged treats brought by well-wishers. It was a lovely sight, but to Broad Bean the real significance was the number of visitors it represented.

"Are you sick?" Broad Bean walked up and observed Wheatie Liu, who just smiled.

Here we must be reminded that Broad Bean's full name was

Broad Bean Tian and that Wheatie Liu's wife's name was Bean Sprout Tian, which tells you all you need to know about the relationship between Wheatie Liu and Broad Bean.

"Me, sick? No fucking way!" Wheatie Liu scooted up next to Broad Bean and whispered, "I just wanted to see if people would treat my death as meaningless, like they did with that other guy."

"How could anybody compare that murderer to you?" Broad Bean stared wide-eyed.

"What about that murderer?"

"Well, maggots are starting to wriggle into his yard," Broad Bean said with a shudder.

"It's still not time." Wheatie Liu smiled again. "Let him stink," he continued as he looked at the red scars on his arms.

Broad Bean held his tongue and studied his fingernails, first the left hand, then the right.

"Count them, see how many there are." Wheatie Liu, his eyes mere slits from the broad grin, pointed to the colorful array of canned goods. "See for yourself. I told people not to come, but they came anyway, didn't they?"

Broad Bean started counting, from the table all the way to the windowsill. "Three hundred and twenty-seven," he said.

"Now count the ones inside."

Surprised that there were more in the other room, Broad Bean froze for a moment before going in to see for himself. "A hundred and seventy-three," he said as he reentered the room.

"Go tell Scarface I want to see him," Wheatie Liu said. "It's business." He tossed a cigarette to Broad Bean.

That's as far as I need to go with this conversation. While I can't comment on its broader significance, on the surface at least we have learned that Wheatie Liu wasn't sick at all; and that is the beginning of yet another story. I've thought about whether I ought to see where this story takes us. I could, for example, say:

Fritter Hollow once had a village chief named Wheatie Liu, an upright, fair-minded, and handsome individual. One day, he took ill and was visited by a steady stream of well-wishers, young and old, male and female, all bearing gifts of canned food and prepared snacks, nearly wearing out his threshold. They wished him a speedy recovery. Fritter Hollow's accountant, Broad Bean Tian, dropped by, discovering to his surprise that Wheatie Liu wasn't really sick at all. This gave rise to an intricate tale. Listen up, for this is what happened…