"I thought I'd try it," said Remo.
"It is as I thought," said the Master of Sinanju sadly.
"What is?"
"You are regressing."
"I am not."
"Denial is the first symptom of regression," Chiun pronounced seriously. "Let me explain this to you, Remo."
"Whisper it," Remo said, suddenly lifting the chopsticks like antennae. "Here comes the fly again."
"The thieves who stole karate from the House of Sinanju were Korean. From the lazy south, of course. They copied the movements, the little kicks and chopping blows of the hand. They were like children pretending to be adults. But because they copied magnificence, as inept as they were, they achieved a certain mediocrity. They could fight, break boards with their hands, and because they were all mediocre and knew it, they insisted on wearing belts of different colors so that some could pretend to be less mediocre than others of their ilk. In truth, they were all inferior to Sinanju. And they knew that, as well."
"I know that story," Remo said, watching the fly. "Then you should know that catching flies with chopsticks goes back to the early days of karate."
"That I didn't know."
"Of course not. If you had, you would not now be shaming me by copying the mediocre karate dancers. "
"I think it's a pretty fair test of skill. I just want to see if I can do it. What's your problem?"
"The karate dancers tried to copy Sinanju in other ways too," Chiun went on as the stubborn fly lingered over the wooden bowl. "They, too, attempted to hire themselves out to kings and emperors as bodyguards. Many karate dancers found that breaking sticks was not the same thing as breaking bones. In their folly, the karate dancers almost became extinct."
"Shhh!" said Remo.
The fly suddenly veered from the bowl toward Remo.
Remo's hand shot out. The chopsticks closed. This time they did not click.
Remo looked. Between the tongs, the fly struggled, its tiny legs working.
"Look," Remo said, grinning.
"Go ahead," said Chiun blandly.
"Go ahead and what?"
"The next step. Surely the film revealed the next step."
"They must have cut that part out," said Remo.
"I will help you," said Chiun happily, edging closer to Remo. "Lift the fly to your face. Keep your eyes carefully upon it so that it does not get away."
Remo did as he was told. The fly buzzed its wings just inches in front of his high-cheekboned face.
"Are you ready?" asked Chiun.
"Yes," said Remo.
"Now open your mouth. Wide."
Remo opened his mouth. His brows knit in perplexity. Chiun took Remo's hand in his and guided the chopsticks closer. As he did so, he continued his story. "The karate dancers who survived gave up trying to be assassins and repaired to their villages, where they searched for other methods of sustaining themselves. But alas, they were poor fishermen and indifferent farmers."
"You mean . . . ?" Remo asked. Chiun nodded happily.
Remo shut his mouth abruptly.
Chiun grinned. "Why do you think they used chopsticks? It saved them so much time."
A pained expression on his face, Remo released the fly and let the chopsticks clatter into his bowl. He pushed the bowl away in disgust.
"You always do this to me," he complained.
"Is this my thanks for being the bearer of messages?"
"What does Smitty want now?"
"Nothing that I know of," answered Chiun. "This message is from Sinanju."
Remo leapt to his feet. His expression became one of surprised joy. "From Mah-LO."
"Who else would waste ink on a fly-chaser such as you?" asked Chiun, producing an envelope from one voluminous sleeve.
Remo snatched it like a hungry man offered bread. Chiun's parchment face wrinkled in disapproval. "Do not be so eager," he sniffed. "She merely asks the same tiresome question put forth in her last twenty letters. Honestly, Remo, how could you think of marrying such a nag?"
"You read my mail?" Remo asked, shocked.
The Master of Sinanju shrugged casually. "It was damaged in transit. The flap was loose and the contents fell out. "
Remo examined the flap. "It's sealed now."
"Of course. If I had not sealed it with my parched old tongue, the letter might have fallen out again and become lost."
Remo ignored Chiun's answer and sliced one end of the envelope open with the sweep of a sharp fingernail. He read the letter eagerly.
"She says everything is fine in Sinanju," Remo said.
"Tell me something I do not know."
"She wants to know when we're coming home."
"Tell her you do not know."
"Cut it out, Chiun. We've only got another few weeks before our contract with Smith is over. We're free after that. "