The Green Paifang

I wander into Kia's Chinese Restaurant and ask for a beef chow fun. A man cuts pork chops in thin slices. The cashier points to a table; I grin. The cashier retreats behind the till and grips her apron to stop her trembling hands. She wails at the butcher, who stops his task and then hugs the crying cashier.

Sometimes, the whiskers on my snout, the wings poking the ceiling, and my yellow teeth can send the cashier to the backroom. She can stop listening to European medieval stories. Those are so a thousand years ago. Those human knights slaying some dragon bore me. Stories about dragons roaming the city pin my scales to the chair.

I sit. Since the cashier trembles behind the register, the butcher approaches with my meal. The salt flirts with my nostrils. My claw twirls through the food, and I toss it into my snout. I smile when the salty beef kisses my tongue: a reunion with Grieg's "Morning Mood" and hot dogs at a baseball game.

The cashier is twiddling her thumbs. Plastic gloves slide off her yellow painted fingernails. She could write my phone number using the blue pen poking out her red apron’s pocket. A brisk wind knocks her blue baseball hat off her head and reveals her short blond hair. Every time I visit, she refuses to give her name.

I say, "I'm trying to look for a girlfriend. Is there anything I can do to make amends?"

She replies, "Could you stop hitting on me?"

"Ouch, I'm trying to enjoy my meal. Aren't you supposed to care for your customers?"

Her hands enter the apron pockets. "I disliked those dragons that wrecked villages."

I point to my whiskers. "Do you see these eastern whiskers on those western dragons?"

"But, eastern dragons don't have those western wings."

"Trust me. I'm both. Care for a story to pass the time?"

She folds her arms. "No, I won't listen to a blood-sucking dragon."

"Daughter, remember what I said," says the butcher.

"He could eat me!"

"Let him tell the story."

My story can win her attention for eternity. When she listens to my story, she may smile at my awesome ideas, and then we can go to the movies for a date. I can buy her popcorn.

#

The ping-pong club at the YMCA on St. Botolph Street met every Wednesday. A normal dragon was supposed to play with other dragons, but I played with those humans every week. The game would tire me out, and we would come to this restaurant after the club to eat supper. While we ate, we would count how many times the pedestrians ignored the traffic lights.

One day, all the ping-pong players scribbled on a piece of paper. I stood on my toes to see, but the humans blocked the poster and the signup sheet. Dreas, my human friend who founded the club, ran into the room with her white sneakers and dress suit. She came from the courthouse on a tight schedule. I asked her to sign both our names for the upcoming ping-pong contest. The first place winner could earn ten thousand dollars and two spectator tickets for the ping-pong Olympic qualifier.

Our room contained a bunch of shelves and drawers filled with children's toys and school supplies for the tutoring program. On that day, some club members created origami sunflowers and arranged them in an arc. Others started their ping-pong games, and click clacks echoed in my ears. Dreas, with her formal suit in her arms, invited me to play.

Her returns curved like a boomerang and bounced next to me. My shots landed on the table's edges, so the ball bounced at a different angle. After every volley, we traded tips about ball spin and technique.

Her eyes stared at me before every volley. When my serve hit the table, she predicted the ball's movement. She responded to any incoming topspin by backing away from the table.

I gripped the paddle. Dreas bounced the ball to my side. Upon contact, the ball disappeared. The windows survived. The vending machine worked. Nobody wore broken glasses. I opened my left hand. A black rock rolled to the floor. My fellow club members stared at me for transforming the ball.

I didn’t understand how my magic worked. Hiding in the bathroom sounded great at that time. That way, I could restart my life as a bathroom dwelling dragon, whose sole goal in life revolved around running away from every human. The janitor could kick me out the building for hiding in a public bathroom alone.

I ditched the place, yet Dreas followed me. We agreed to an early supper, and I avoided talking about ping-pong. The noodles could not cheer me up. As we walked out the door after supper, she tapped me on the back.

"I know a good dragon who could teach you how to compete."

I spat saliva. "Who, my father? Yeah, that's not going to happen."

She squeezed my right shoulder. "He won an Olympic tournament. Sunny, I'd beg for a gold medalist to train me."

I told her to drop it because my father was the biggest jerk on the planet. At that time, my father and I lived in separate apartments for a few years. She did not know about my family's history.

#

Before I continued, I could share four facts about my father, Eel. One: he liked to travel. His favorite place was located around Asia, and he spent his vacations in China. Two: he abandoned my mother, a western ice dragon, who thought that he was living somewhere in Antarctica. Three: the jerk worked at Mick's Sporting Goods as the store's manager. Four: my father understood ping-pong better than any human did.

Upon strolling into Mick's Sporting Goods, I asked one of the cashiers if I could see the manager. The cashier told me to wait and called for another person to ask the manager a question.

A dragon's shop layout differed from a human one. The main aisle stretched four humans wide, so all beings could cross the area. Granite pillars supported green metal shelves with exercise equipment, and a dragon flew to the top to examine some dumbbells. A cobblestone path surrounded an oak tree with branches hanging advertisements and free coupons from hooks. One of the cashiers trimmed a bonsai tree on the check out table.

The manager recognized me as Mr. Granders, the infamous son of Eel, and the employee escorted me through a set of double doors toward his office. Father’s fiery gaze saw me through the window.

Those red and orange scales sparkled. He burst through the door and left no inch of his serpentine body in his office. A black tie hung from his neck. His tail wagged, and his arms opened for a potential embrace.

"My son, you're finally going to get a job with your father?"

I raised an open palm. "I've come with a question."

"Did you find your magical element yet?"

"Forget about that for now. Could you train me for a human ping-pong tournament, so I can win some money and a trip to an Olympic qualifier?"

He straightened his black tie. "You'd outclass the humans if you knew the game. I was waiting for the day when my son asked me to play ping-pong. Fold your wings, son. You aren't flying."

Eel led me to the employee's lounge. Since all employees were working, we had the room to ourselves. A vending machine with sodas whirred in the background. A bonsai tree covered one of the walls. Two gray sofas pointed toward a blue ping-pong table. A news anchor on television interviewed a gray dragon donating his vast book collection to a public library.

"Sunny, did you come here to play ping-pong or watch a screen? It's your serve." Eel chucked the ping-pong ball at my face.

From schoolwork to chores, Father would boss me around as if I worked for him. He ruined all the fun in my life, and nobody could fix that.

With the first volley, the ball sprang at an awkward angle, and my father swung at air. On the next round, my shot hit the same spot and bounced at the same angle, and my father stared at me. He tried again, but my shot repeated itself.

Father placed the paddle on the table. "This is not luck. Are you using magic in a ping-pong match? A horde of dragons killed the last magical cheater after the Olympics."

"That was luck! What is that supposed to mean? I'm playing the game fair and square."

My father approached me. "Give me your hands. Are you hiding your element from me?"

"If I could rupture the city's foundation in half, I would tell you." I gave him my claws.

Father could stop scratching my claws, so I could retreat to the nearest bathroom to clean myself. My back ached from these stupid shot exchanges. I could vomit from all of this nonsense, but I chose to stare at him.

His talon scratched my pointer claw. While I sighed, Eel snatched his paddle and stepped toward his side of the table. "This is your problem." The ball whizzed past me before I could react. "Your opponent isn't going to wait for you." He spat red ooze at the ping-pong table. "Throw the ball onto my spit and see what happens."

I picked the ball from the floor and tossed it onto the spit. As Eel bounced each vertical shot on his paddle, a red glow radiated from the ball. On the last shot, my father licked the ball and spat it toward my side. The normal ball rolled off the table.

Tugging at his tie sounded like a great idea, but I said, "Are you going to eat the spit on the table, too?"

He licked the ooze on the table and swallowed it. "With that trick, I can set the ball and several dragons on fire. I would love to show you the whole trick, but I do not feel like setting off the fire alarm. If you want me to train you, come back on Tuesday and Thursday evenings. We must discuss some topics in private. Those three points were pure luck. I will not go easy on you."

How did I keep up with a medal winning Olympian? Two times a week, my father would destroy me at ping-pong. Every time that I lost, he tossed the ping-pong ball toward me and waited for me to start the next game. For the next month, I took a course on the application of stinking so hard that even the workers could smell my losses from the lounge.

#

At the Summer Festival, drums boomed through the area. Dragons and humans walked through an array of vendors selling Chinese food, plants, and cheap toys. One vendor allowed beings to spin a roulette wheel for prizes. The booth for an opera group offered free origami lessons. Yellow and purple vines fluttered from the green paifang, the arch. A group of humans and dragons played Chinese checkers. A Mick's Sports Shop vendor was selling ping-pong paddles and balls.

I bought curry fish balls for winning the first round and the semis. While humans stared at me maneuvering through the massive crowd, I spotted my father browsing bonsai trees. A fire radiated in his eyes. The humans selling noodles and one-dollar toys were yelling at me for blocking the main street. When Eel and I could move our arms on a less populated street, my father grabbed my shoulder and pointed his snout toward my ear.

"Son, your next opponent is a dirty, rotten cheater. You've got to kiss her," Eel said.

I said, "What sort of maniac would kiss their opponent in public?"

"If any dragon can stop her cheating, it's you. Kiss her."

"What do you expect from me, a show?"

"If that's what needs to be done, do it."

Father became a lunatic. Maybe his age was affecting his mind a little more than his gray brow. I could never understand that dragon's advice. A kiss could not help me beat another dragon at ping-pong. Some friendly, I-know-you-can-do-this advice could inspire me, but I could break a wall over this kissing nonsense.

My father said that the paifang's inscription translated to positive qualities of a good citizen, such as loyalty and love. He also wore a grin when he would bark nonsense like that, so I had learned to ignore him.

Father escorted me back to the tournament. A sky blue dragon smashed her final topspin toward Dreas, who ducked before the ball could hit her. The orange ball soared toward the sidewalk, and some children chased after it. The host sweating with his black suit stopped the dragon before going off stage.

The host said, "Now is our final match, a battle of the east versus the west. It's Sunny Granders versus Augusta Dean!"

The announcer reminded me of what happened at the YMCA. Her name rang in my ears, and her blue eyes glared at me. Her coil-like stance sprang up and down waiting for me. She carried a paddle made of blue wood and black and red rubber. Her tail caused the stage to vibrate.

We shook hands, and the host offered me the first serve. The orange ball had a familiar set of Chinese characters. The letters from the paifang and the ball matched.

The creator of this ping-pong ball was urging me to apply this trait nonsense to my play, but how could a ping-pong ball become loyal to a player? It was a ping-pong ball, an inanimate object. I had to crush the ball past the opponent. Maybe the whole curry fish balls after every victory distracted me from watching her.

A passion of clicks began. Her fourth shot flew toward my head, so I moved left to earn my point. After my second serve, her lips glowed white, and she with her paddle spun in a circle. As the ball spun toward my opponent, I whiffed the ball. A breeze caressed my fingertips. The ball bounced back to her. I was not going to play ping-pong with my snout.

With Augusta leading ten to one, the western dragon hit my snout nine times. Upon her serve, a black light covered my hand. The ball whipped past me, and a black matter extended from my paddle's tip. The matter reached for the ball, and the orange ball turned into a purple black ball of energy. The ball floated toward the opponent's side of the net. Her paddle dove for the ball, but the ball hit the net. Some black dust dripped down her paddle, and the referee awarded the point to me.

She said, "You're a cheater."

I pointed at her face. "You should talk with those white lips."

The referee said, "The score is ten to two. This is a friendly game, dragons."

At the score, ten to five, I made a T symbol, and the referee gave me three minutes. Augusta bolted for the nearest tree, and I followed her. Her hand brushed against the tree.

"You don't care about your earth," she said. "Have you ever talked to the earth before?"

I responded, "I discovered that today. I couldn't control it."

"Didn't a dragon tell you to not use your earth near the humans? It drives them insane."

"That was the first time that I used my element." I shrugged. "How could I know that?"

"No dragon told you about how to use an element. Don’t you know other dragons? Are you a dragon that likes to hang out with humans?"

I licked my tooth. If I could use magic, I could form an earthen wall between the two of us. I could leave the tournament and cry in a corner, but my father would taunt me for forfeiting. Maybe I could lie and say that I was a dragon hiding in his apartment like one of those medieval dragons, no. What other phrase could save me from my house of thoughts and worries?

She grabbed my shoulder. "No, I was looking for a dragon hanging out with humans."

"Huh, somebody was looking for somebody like me?"

The referee gave us a minute warning.

I asked, "If I stop using my black stuff, will you stop using the wind?"

"This black dust is obsidian, and my winds are drafts. Yes, play like humans."

The game became an orange blur. My six-point streak closed the gap between us. My hand trembled with each volley. Topspins shooting past her relieved my shakiness. We traded point for point until the score became twenty to nineteen.

One point separated me from victory. The host replaced our buckets due to the amount of spit and sweat oozing from our snouts. For me, this final volley could cost ten thousand dollars and a trip to an Olympic qualifier. I trained under the best ping-pong player in the world. My father's training and the high expectations of my fellow ping-pong club members supported me the entire time.

After my serve, she struck the ball toward my right baseline. I lobbed the ball toward my left and retreated to the edge of the stage. When she smacked her final blow, I fell off the stage and recovered the shot. My head poked above the stage. The ball ricocheted off the table's corner, and she whiffed the ball. I won!

#

I raise two fists in the air when Augusta enters the restaurant. Her whiskers perk up while mine slip into my snout.

Augusta asks, "Did he tell you yet?"

The cashier responds, "Tell me what? We were talking about the tournament."

Augusta pulls a seat next to me. "He is hiding something from you."

"I won that tournament," I say. "Augusta, the ball went straight for that corner."

"No, I threw the tournament for you. The ball was going to fall out of bounds, so I asked a draft to direct the ball inbounds."

My snout drops. I can duck under this table. Is there an oxygen mask somewhere? I hear Sunny represents the best ping-pong player in the world, and no other being can beat this dragon at ping-pong. She is not mentioning throwing the game in front of me. My money and tickets would mean nothing.

"What I was doing was wrong. Do I need to call the ambulance for your broken jaw?" Augusta lifts my snout.

I scratch my head. "I could offer a spectator ticket, and we could split the money."

"Why don't we talk over some noodles?"

Perhaps slowing down can help me relax. Why rush when a female dragon is willing to hang out? I never can know to whom she is talking with her glowing white lips. I lean toward Augusta and she brushes against my shoulder. My tongue pokes out.

A red claw slams against the table. I lunge forward and lie on Augusta's lap. The cashier is crying until my father clears his throat. Eel looms over the two of us.

How is he here? He is supposed to be working at his office. He always butts into everything.

Eel asks, "Sunny, who is the dragon that you were trying to kiss?"

I say, "Don't you recognize her, the dragon that I played against at that tournament?"

"Very well, I wish that you introduce her to me."

"Um, Augusta, this is my father, Eel."

Eel and Augusta shake hands. Eel says, "It's nice to know that he picked you as your girlfriend."

The cashier says, "Will your mating ritual cause the building to explode? I heard of stories where mates flew toward the sky without regarding their surroundings. I'm hiding."

Great, now I have a human that does not see the difference between love and magic and a dragon shoving the romance advice into my ears. Okay, he is fifty percent right. Kissing her can improve our relationship. Can we receive some privacy? A dragon and a human staring at us cannot cause us to kiss.

I tug at Augusta's hand and stand up. She holds on while I try to walk past my father, but she pulls me back. Our lips lock together and Eel whistles. My chances with the cashier evaporate into thin air.

The Wikipedia page states that the paifang in our city stood for honesty and manners. The Internet can provide misinformation.

Author’s Biography

Reggie Kwok dreams of dragons in his sleep when he is not summoning their powers for writing. He once won an award related to community engagement. He holds a B.A. in English and a Master’s in Education. He currently lives in Massachusetts, USA. His Twitter is @KwokReggie.