You are President Jones. And as a president, when a natural disaster strikes you’re expected to do something about it. Generally that means fly over to where ever it happened and look at it while the news people film you looking at it. Of course that’s about as useful as your buddy looking at the new six inch long gash in your forehead and going, “Ow, that looks bad.”
Thus Operation Hot Tub was born and so there you are, sitting in your cabin in the Mile High Club, sipping Jack Daniels. Your Japanese language coach, code named Pai Mei, (Hell that actually might be his real name, you just don’t know) is schooling you on the finer points of Japanese night life. He is particularly annoyed that you are fixated on the idea of spending some quality time with a geisha. He insists you won’t and you insist on at least making an effort.
“Anata wa sushi no yona aji nodarou ka.” You say to him.
He’s yelling again, “NO NO NO! What you just said was, ‘I wonder if you taste like sushi.’”
“Then I got it right? Excellent…”
He storms out of the cabin. You figure the language lesson must be over. So next up on your parade of visits is Doctor Strangelove. This guy is creepy even when he’s not about to go visit some radiation. As he walks into the cabin, you think the same thing you always think: Mein Fuhrer! He can walk!
“Mr. President!” he says, “exciting isn’t it!”
“Once way back when I was a construction worker, I put my hand in a running microwave. Exciting isn’t the word I’d use. Stupid, dumb, idiotic… those are the words that come to mind.”
He is, of course, clueless to sarcasm, “I meant, we have the opportunity to study the environmental impact of a large scale nuclear disaster.” Then as if trying to finally understand sarcasm, “Why would you put your hand in a microwave?”
“To see if it’s hot or not.” He is clearly still confused, “Anyway the ‘we’ part of that is my problem there. ‘We’ ain’t studying the environmental whatever. I’ll let you handle that. I have some more pressing environmental studies to make, somewhere well away from the broken nuke plants.”
The look on his face tells you he simply can’t understand why anyone would pass up the chance to get a large dose of radiation while checking to see what it does to the other lifeforms around you. “Sir, I wasn’t expecting you to do any kind of the scientific work, but I think that the press is going to want to see you at least tour the area.”
“Oh they’ll ‘see’ me there,”
Out in the corridor you hear Duckie, your stunt double exclaim, “Fuck me!”
“And I have other scientific work. I’m going to study the social impact of the natural disaster on night life in Tokyo. Particularly as it relates to the female of the species.”
He perks up and you sadly realize that it was not due to the word female, but to the word study, “I had no idea you were a sociologist Mr. President. Was that your major in college?”
“That was what I majorly did, yes. So, what’s in the tupperware? That your lunch?”
“Tupperware? Oh, you mean the petri dish? Oh it’s not lunch. It wouldn’t do to eat this, it’s a strain of bubonic plague. We’re going to study it’s mutation rate at various points around the reactors.”
“Interesting. Well… I have some other business to tend to. Thanks for stopping by.” As he leaves the cabin, you press the intercom for Brick House (The code name for your secretary.)
“Yes sir?” It’s nice to hear her sense of foreboding has returned after the ordeal with Dorothy. (New code word for the former Director of National Intelligence)
“Have Dr. Strangelove’s boarding clearance revoked as soon as we land.”
“Sir that will strand him in Japan.”
“If we’re very lucky. Oh, and while we’re on the ground, have the cleaning boys really scrub the interior of the plane, lots of disinfectant.”
“Oh dear God, did you bring Gucci with you? Hot Pocket and Sausage Wrap?” Those are of course code names for very special ambassadors.
“No, and I must say, you could have thought of that before we took off. Try to work with me some here.”
“I am not your pimp, Mr. President.”
A little while later the plane touches down in Tokyo. You notice that Duckie has lined up right behind Dr. Strangelove to exit the plane. You pull him aside, “Nevermind the radiation. Just stay WAY away from Dr. Strangelove and his tupperware.”
After all of the guests exit finally your group exits the plane. It’s quiet since all the press took off to follow Duckie around. You, Brick House, Pai Mei, the Drinking Buddies (The Joint Chiefs never like to miss one of your road trips) the pilot, Captain Tailhook and the ever present Agents Smith step out onto the top of the stair and down below you see your good buddy, Bruce Lee, the ambassador.
He’s all smiles as you get to the bottom of the stairs, “Chizuboru!” He grabs your hand and shakes it violently, “Domo arigato, my friend!”
You can tell he’s happy to see you, “Gato? No cat for me, got any sushi?” This causes Pai Mei to make that grunting low growl.
Bruce cracks up laughing, “I just wanted to thank you for the milfs.”
You understand Pai Mei ask him,“What?” as he attempts to translate any words you might need translated and Bruce looks confused as Pai asks again “What is ‘milf’.”
You tap him on the shoulder, “It means women who taste like sushi.” Which generates an even louder grunting groan as Bruce exclaims “Hai!”
You’re still a little confused, “Bruce, glad you’re likin’ ’em but I don’t remember sending any…” Just at that point Hot Pocket and Sausage Wrap come from around a parked limo. “Wow, how did…”
Brick House interrupts, “Airforce transport sir. I am still not your pimp.”
A short pleasant, well unless you’re Pai Mei, trip later, you find yourself and your entourage in a great night club. You survey the bar and are satisfied that at least you’re not going to be bored here. A couple of cute girls note that you look just like the President of the United States as they point to you on the TV standing on top of some rubble.
Looking at Duckie, you suddenly realize that you’re worried about him. I mean, it was hard to find a guy that looked and sounded just like you. Jimmy Kimmel probably wouldn’t work.
“We should probably try to get him out of there quick as we can,” you say to Patton Two.
“Don’t worry, Sir, we took good care of him. He’ll be fine.”
“What did you do?”
“Did you notice how slow he was moving leaving the airport?”
“Yeah, I thought he was stalling.”
Patton lets out that husky laugh, “No, Milton made him that suit special, the lead in it weighs in at about sixty pounds.”
“That’s what I love about you boys, you think of everything. Who’s Milton?”
“Oh, sorry Sir, forgot to use his code name, Just Jack.” Who is, of course, the President’s make up artist.
You lean back in your seat and eye the brunette on your right… hmm… they’re all brunettes here, and you look to Pai Mei, “Ok help me out here, How do I say, ‘Would you mind if I coated you in chocolate and nibbled on you for a few days like I was on a diet?’”
Pai Mei stands up making that undignified grunt, and leans over the young lady. He says something to her which makes her look at you with raised eyebrows. He grunts again and heads toward the john.
You look over and Bruce, who’s cracking up again, and he translates for you, “He said, “When your mother warned you that some men are bad, she meant him.’” Bruce’s finger is poking toward you while slapping his leg in with the other hand.
“See? He might be a grouch, but he’s a good guy huh?” You take a sip of your Jack Daniels while you make room on your lap for the girl. Suddenly, you have an epiphany, “You know, I just realized how I can really make a difference in the disaster going on here!”
From across the table, a splash of Scotch comes from the nose of Buckaroo Banzai (Chief of the Air Force, for you civilians). Gunny Highway (Yep… Commandant of the Marine Corps) sits up in his seat almost dumping one of the girls in his lap, “You almost sound serious, Sir.”
“I am! I mean, I figure it’s been forever since Pai Mei got laid, and we all know that’s a real tragedy.” A lot of looks of relief come from the other side of the table as a waiter mops up Scotch.
Captain Tailhook leans forward, “What’s the plan, Sir?”
“Well…” You think, not too deeply, you don’t want brain hormones diluting the Jack Daniels, “It’s got to happen here. If we had to translate him for American girls, it would get difficult even if we’re paying them.” All eyes follow yours to Bruce Lee, “Bruce, surely…”
“No!” he says emphatically, “It no good time for me to help on this.”
“Bruce… What happened? You’re not going soft on us are you?”
“No soft! How you say, hand in cookie jar?”
“Oh you got caught with your hand in the jar huh?”
“Caught? No exactly. More shook hand with other hand in jar. Must, how you say, ‘ride low’”.
“Hmm… I just need to know where to go.” You take a sip on your whiskey. “We need intel.” Another sip and another epiphany, “I know!” You take a napkin and write a quick little message.
You nab the waiter, “Get me another drink please, and on your way back there, put this behind the Jack Daniels you have on the shelf.” He looks at Bruce for a minute and you can tell, that little request would get most people tossed out of here. But he takes the napkin and disappears into the back of the club.
A few moments later, he comes back with your drink. “Ok, now, how about go back and bring me that napkin back?” you ask. He’s too good of a waiter to roll his eyes, but you can feel the muscle tension wanting to spin them like a slot machine.
“So what’s with the napkin?” Gunny Highway seems intrigued. Patton gives him a knowing smile.
“I sent for some help.”
“Via a napkin to a liquor cabinet? How does that work?”
“Oddly enough I don’t know and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know either.”
The waiter returns with a puzzled look and hands you the napkin back. As you lay it out on the table, it’s obvious to everyone that there’s more writing on it now. The original message says, “Mr. Frost, you are needed for Operation Do Bill signed Cheeseball”. The new writing below it says, “Cheeseball, I am enroute Sir. Please order me a Mai Tai. Signed, Mr. Frost.”
You look up at the waiter, “Please bring me a Mai Tai for my friend.” Off the waiter goes.
Captain Bligh asks, “You really think he’s going to get here that fast?”
A geeky young man in a brown suit steps up to the table with two stunning, an adjective that means a lot in this bar, women on each arm and reaches out to shake your hand, “I’m sorry I’m late, Sir. I got held up in traffic. It’s awful out there.” He takes a seat on the other side of you.
The waiter returns, gives up a Mai Tai and leaves, “Mr. Frost, I’m sure you know the Drinking Buddies, Bruce Lee, Captain Tailhook and, of course, Brick House?” He nods as you go on, “Gentlemen this is Mr. Frost, my personal intelligence director.”
As they all raise their glasses, you continue, “Mr. Frost we need intel for our new operation, Do Bill. What we have in mind is to get Pai Mei laid, massively and multiply laid. What we need…”
“What you need is someone in Japan who can give a guy more than wood, someone who can give a guy steel. Japanese steel, Sir.” He sips his Mai Tai.
“Um… Yeah, what you said. I take it you know who can do that?”
“Hattori Hanzo, Sir.”
“Niiice code name!”
“It’s not a code name, it’s really his name.”
“Ok, that’s weird. Anyway, how do we get to him?”
“We don’t, I’ve already contacted him, I just need to know when and where the target will be alone.”
“Is tonight too early?”
“No Sir, tonight is just fine, I presume you want the event to happen in his hotel room?”
“Yeah, the room number… right… you already know it huh?”
“Of course Sir, what kind of Personal Intelligence Director would I be if I didn’t know that?” Mr. Frost sips his Mai Tai.
Bruce, looking anxious from across the table, speaks up, “Uh… I been here long time, never heard of Hattori, can I get a number for him?”
Mr. Frost smiles, which is somewhat frightening, “Already in your in-box, Mr. Ambassador. Look for the email labeled ‘Domestic Relations.’” He turns to you, “So, you think possibly eleven PM local time?”
You take a look at your watch, “Sounds perfect.”
Mr. Frost stands, shakes your hand, “Glad to be of service to you again Mr. President. Call on me any time.” He turns to the ladies he brought with him and says something in Japanese. “Sir, I think I’ll go dance, see you later.”
A moment later you notice that you can’t find Mr. Frost in the crowd anymore. The unsuspecting Pai Mei returns the table, looking as sour as ever. As he sits down, you look at your entourage and say, “Well, the Jack Daniels isn’t doing much for the jet lag, I guess it would be a good time to turn in.”
Your entourage and the extra women tagging along seem to agree that heading to the hotel is a good idea so you all gather up and funnel into the limos.
Several hours later, you are awakened from a deep sleep. Something is wrong somewhere. For a moment you have trouble figuring out where you are before it all comes back to you. You sit up and notice that your Japanese friend left while you were sleeping. She was sweet enough to leave a mint on your pillow… actually she left mint chocolate on a lot of things. Vampire Bill is not going to like the hotel cleaning bill.
That thought vanishes as you hear the screams. Somewhere nearby many women are screaming loudly. Agent Smith and his twin step hurriedly into your room to check on you.
You roll out of the bed, “It ain’t in here boys, we gotta find out what that is!” you say as you head toward the door, pulling up your pajama pants as you walk.
Agent Smith objects, “Sir you should let us check this out.”
As you reach the door you scold him, “Just like at the bar in Virginia, I told you, I can take care of myself!”
“Sir, you got arrested by local police.”
You’re past him out the door now into the hallway, “It all worked out!”
“Sir you were tazed in the middle of a fire fight.”
A door opens from a room in front of you and a man who looks a lot like Kato from Green Hornet, most likely because all he is wearing is a green mask, steps nervously out and heads for the elevators. Behind him in the doorway, Brick House steps out.
You come to a halt. Skimpy nightgowns do have that effect. “Brick?”
“Shut up!. You didn’t see anything. Oh and have Mr. Frost send my thanks to Hanzo…” She slams the door.
Fresh multiple screams coming from down the hallway remind you of the reason you came out here, and off you run. You discover that the screams are coming from behind the door belonging to Pai Mei. You imagine he’s snapped and is killing them all from the sound of it.
You square your shoulder and hit the door hard. You bounce off, this ain’t a movie, this door is hard. Real hard. You turn to Agent Smith, “Get this door open!” you order.
Agent Smith turns the knob and opens the door.
You burst into the bedroom of the suite. Again, you halt. The scene you have burst in upon is straight out of Caligula. Naked and semi-naked women are all over the bed a half dozen of which are riding various body parts clearly belonging to the buried Pai Mei. Those women continue to scream loudly as the women waiting their chance slowly turn and begin to notice you and the Agent’s Smith.
Slowly the screams die down and the scene before you freezes. You can’t believe you didn’t think to bring your camera. Down from under the pile of women, Pai Mei pokes up his head, points at you and says, slowly in a Japanese accent, “You geet out. No your turn, your turn later.” As you leave the room, you hope he means your turn with the girls…
This has been a cautionary tale. When a natural disaster strikes, it’s important to leave the repairs to the professionals.