Chasing the Lions

Reunions this time of the year is usually whirlwind of relatives, red packets and revelry - interspersed with the traditional fireworks and lion dances that signify the Chinese New Year. At least for me.

And though the ear-splitting din can be quite an irritant, I have to admit I actually miss having firecrackers around. At least for once a year, it does add to the near-crazed atmosphere! Recordings of the familiar sound just doesn't cut it. Fie to the anxious naywayers but I lit dozens of crackers in my time and never lost a shred of skin.

But bygones.

So this morning I got my seat on the upper storey of the coffeeshop with my niece and nephew, all eagerly awaiting the lion dance. Usually by the second day of the new year, we'd be busy hurrying back to the city already - but since we'd all taken an extra long break, we figured we'd stay around for this occasion at least.

Lori : Why are you sitting up here?
Paul : Waiting for the lion dance?
Lori : Gonna wait a real long time then. We haven't had them for years, babe.
Paul : WHAT?
Lori : Somehow never got around to calling them.
Paul : But that's serious bad juju! Misfortune!

Came as a shock to realize that we haven't had lion dances over in the coffeeshop
ever since my grandpa died. Has it been that long? Surely from some oversight ( and not from overweening sentimentality as you'd have thought ) since we actually had it annually as kids. Hardly a Chinese New Year went by without the lion dance storming down our front porch to climb up the steep ladder for the red packets dangling from the upper storeys. The sudden flash of red and yellow. The clash of the cymbals. The beat of the drums. The laughter of my cousins.


The lion takes a peek.
Seriously. No lion dance? How sacrilegious. My grandpa must be turning in his grave.

Suddenly struck with nostalgia, Lispy Lori and I decided to go hunting for lions in the neighbourhood to lead home. All armed with a pocketful of newly minted cash fresh from the red packets. Barely completed two blocks when we heard the familiar crash of cymbals and drums heralding the lion's appearance. Hurried to the shop at the corner only to find the lion already up the pole to the first floor in search of its treasure.

As usual amongst the lion dance troupe, there's always one delicious hottie, all tall, tanned and toned. Must be all that hopping, jumping and leaping in the sun. Certainly builds up a really nice ass.

Let's not even talk about the biceps from all that endless drumming.

So you can tell which one I actually approached to come by that afternoon.

Paul : Come over to my place when you're done.
Hottie : No problem, sir. Right after I finish my performance here.
Paul : Oh you're looking really good. How much by the hour?
Hottie : Up to you guys to decide.
Paul : I'm sure you'll be worth every bang for the buck. If you perform really well, I'll throw in a special tip just for you.
Hottie : Yes, sir!

Unfortunately he had to be all of an oblivious innocent 17. And also my cousin Richie Runt's schoolmate. So I deferred my plans of shoving dollars into his black pants.

And brought back a lion.