In Which I Employ The Asian Death Glare to Little Effect

When I was little, my mother disciplined me with a mixture of the silent treatment and what I have come to call The Asian Death Glare. The Asian Death Glare is also silent, but is of astonishing power. It conveys simultaneously and with ferocious intensity concepts such as: “You are dead to me right now except to say that you are dead would acknowledge that you once had existence. I do not acknowledge that, “and “The shame you should be experiencing is of such enormity that mere words cannot convey the scope of the vast wastes of shame through which your quivering spirit creeps.” Things like that.

Sometimes I try to employ the Asian Death Glare on the Trouble House in general. So far, it’s not very effective. I think that maybe my skills are only at comic book superhero sidekick levels. It would really take my mom to swoop in and level the place with her powers.

My lack of skill development in this area, I believe, explains why, during the world’s most ungracious apology for (minimally) hosting the party in which actual human blood was spattered on my car, I was unable to elicit genuine humility or chastened regret from the principle miscreant.

Although I did get a slightly damp $10.00 bill with which to pay for a car wash.

You know how in Batman Begins, a spiritually wounded Bruce Wayne has to retreat to the mountains to perfect his skills with the ninja Ra's al Ghul before he can come back to Gotham City to enforce justice? I’m pretty sure this is how it’s going to need to be with me and the Death Glare.

Only with my mom in the Ken Watanabe role.

--saifun