So! Where do I begin? I suppose a capsule autobiography is in order.

I was born Robert Anthony Sharkey, Junior. Named, of course, for my dad, who's probably better known to most of you as "Tiger" Sharkey. The famous ex-wrestler-turned-actor and politician. Or, as Jay Leno once so aptly-yet-nasally summarized it:

"Three different names for the same thing!"

My own first nickname wasn't quite that colorful. You see, as a mixed martial arts kick-boxer, you could say that I had decided to follow in my father's foot work. But, naturally, I didn't want to cash in on his reputation before establishing mine. So, when I began my intensive cross-training in la savate, muay thai, uechi-ryu karate, atemi-waza judo, and Sun-style tai chi chuan, I initially chose to call myself (get the antacids ready):

"Bob N. Weaver."

I know; I know! It sounds more like the stage-name for a Vegas night club comic. Well, don't worry. After I won my first tournament, and I told them who I really was, the press came up with an even better nickname for me: "Thresher" Sharkey! Although, to be honest, it was based on their misinterpretation of the hsing-i move I called "Thrashing Tail of the Dragon" (and which had proven so decisive in my victory).

Anyway, it wasn't long after my second championship-defense bout that Hollywood came knocking at my door, in the form of Irv Duncan. Self-proclaimed "Swifty Lazar of the 21st century!" And, basically, he tried to convince me I could become the Chuck Norris of direct-to-video "chop-sockey" movies.

"I even took the liberty of dropping your name with a Filipino production company that's going to be working on location in Hawaii! They need someone who can play an American Secret Service agent, who's working undercover to protect a Vietnamese exchange student, who's actually the President's long-lost granddaughter, by a love-child he fathered in war-torn Saigon, back when he was a Green Beret!!"

"Uh-huh!" I replied (obviously quite dubious): "And, what's the title of this touching little drama going to be?"

He half-smiled: "Roughly translated from Tagalog? 'Escri-man Vs. The Earth Tigers in the Haunted Temple.' "

I nearly fell out of my easy chair, I laughed so hard.

"I'm dead serious!" he exclaimed (as soon as I was too exhausted to laugh anymore): "The producers need actors who can do their own fight scenes with very little choreographing. And, if you pass the audition, you'd be one of the top two who can fit that bill. The other one being Dan Chan, who'll be doing the title role."

Now, that made me sit up and take notice. Dan Chan was the World Wu Shu Federation's undefeated gold medalist in choy li fut! He had also cross-trained in escrima and aiki-jodo. So, getting to spar with him would be an indescribable honor for me. Even if only for a "mistaken identity slug-fest" on the silver screen!

"When and where do I audition?"

Two days later, I reported to the Tahitian Village condos, in Nevada, for a cold-script reading with the leading lady. A former Miss Junior World Peace named Ramona Magsaysay.

To be continued

* * * * *

Our first stop was Las Vegas' McCarran International Airport, which we flew to aboard Irv's Cessna Citation jet. There, we rented a 2010 Chevy Cobalt (which was actually painted cobalt-blue; go figure!), and drove a few miles southward.

Upon arriving at Tahitian Village, I had to confess that the place wasn't much to look at.

"The only thing tropical-looking, around here, are the potted palms in the lobby."

"Well, don't let it worry you," replied Irv: "We won't even be staying here, overnight."

We found the door to the room we were looking for (Suite 428) and knocked.

"Come on in!" exclaimed a female voice: "It's open."

We did as instructed. And, we were stunned by the sight that first met our eyes. Seven twenty-something girls, all of Filipino heritage. And, all dressed exactly alike. Purple majorette uniforms, with matching mini-skirts (hem-lined with black and white stripes), and white go-go boots.

The most petite member of this group stepped forward, her right hand outstretched.

"Hi!" she gushed: "I'm Ramona Magsaysay. Captain of the San Ildefonso University twirl line. But, you can just call me 'Ramona.' And, it's a pleasure to be working with you, Mr. Sharkey!"

Her friends squealed and giggled as I shook her hand.

"Pleased to meet you. And, you can call me 'Thresher.' "

More giggles and squeals. During which, I turned to Irv.

"I thought you said we'd be rehearsing the scene at the archeological dig."

Now, it was Ramona's turn to look at Irv.

"I thought that scene was being phased out of the remake."

"Remake?" I echoed: "What remake?"

Ramona then told me how Arturo Reyes (the agent who had handled her talk show appearances while she was Miss Junior World Peace) had told her she and her friends would be auditioning for a remake of the 1979 cult-classic, "Invasion of the Baton Twirlers From Outer Space." Said remake to be a collaboration between Tim Burton and James Cameron!

"But," she continued: "...instead of a baton-twirling beauty pageant winner getting possessed by an ancient astronaut's ghost, it's to feature a whole twirl line getting abducted by--and brainwashed aboard--a UFO!"

So, I turned back to Irv, with criss-crossed arms.

" 'Lucy! You got some splaining to do.' "

Irv held up both his hands.

"Obviously, there's been a slight foul-up in the lines of communication. You guys wait here, and I'll go contact Arturo on the car's cellular headset. OK?"

I guess he meant for us to accept that last part as a rhetorical question. Because, he hurried out the door like a bat out of you-know-where! So, in the interests of diplomacy, I asked Ramona to introduce me to the other girls. She blushed with excitement (just as much as they did) as she called off their names.

"Consuela; Manuela; Patricia; Marguerita; Ana-Maria; and Dolores."

Each girl raised her baton to her right shoulder, accordingly, while performing a slight curtsy in the form of her left leg tucking backward.

"Encantada, senoritas!" I replied (with as chivalrous as a bow as I could manage).

They squealed and giggled, yet again, as Ramona explained that they could all speak fluent English. But, that she, herself, was half-Puerto Rican on her mother's side. So, she could speak Spanish, just as fluently.

"Ah, comprendo!" I replied (bowing again): "Gracias."

I know; I know! Linguistic showing off. But, I couldn't help myself. Ramona was just so dang cute (especially when she grinned)!! And, the rest of the girls weren't exactly slouches in the Looks Department, either.

Still, I was determined to remain a gentleman. So, I told them how I had come here expecting to meet "Marie-Lien LaFlamme," for the first time, at an ancient Hawaiian temple that was being controversially excavated. And, Ramona returned the favor by telling me how they had come here expecting to rehearse the scene where they capture "Agent Steven Hughes" for their alien masters!

"Well, then?" I replied: "Why not go ahead and show me."

They didn't need much more urging than that. In less time than it takes to tell, they were dancing and baton-twirling to an Ipod-recorded tune called "Itak-Tak-Mo." Which, to be honest, sounded (to me) a lot like a cross between Los Bravos' "Black Is Black," George Gershwin's "Summertime,' and the original HAWAII FIVE-O theme!

Still, their choreography was undeniably precise, as they never once stepped out of synch! And, their baton-twirling was just plain...hypnotic.

I literally could not take my eyes off them, as they formed a tight circle around me.

tbc

* * * * *

Suddenly, I woke up.

I was disoriented, at first. Not knowing who, or where, I was. Then, slowly, it all came back to me. The movie offer; the plane ride to the audition; everything.

The last thing I clearly remember, before apparently blacking out, was Ramona's Twirlers demonstrating their dancing skills for me. Yet, now, I seemed to be sitting on a king-size bed with a purple blanket. Not to mention a footboard that seemed to have been carved into the semblance of the heads of two bald men, standing side-by-side.

Stranger still was the fact that this bed seemed to be center-stage of a big amphitheater! Sort of like the Hollywood Bowl. But, with a giant movie screen similar to New York City's Imax.

It was at this point that I tried to stand up. Only to find I couldn't. Due to the fact that my arms were pinned to my sides!

"Ramona?" I called out: "Ramona! Where are you?"

The acoustics in this amphitheater were really weird. They made my voice sound like I'd been snorting helium! Even so, at least I got someone to respond. Because, my shouted inquiry was almost immediately followed by a thunderous click. And, then a really loud electronic hum as something was projected on to the movie screen.

It took me a couple seconds to recognize myself standing in the center of the seven mysteriously missing majorettes, as they danced around me. First, clockwise; then counter-clockwise. All the while, never ceasing to twirl their batons. But, did I compliment them on their skill?

No! I just stood there, staring at them, open-mouthed (like Billy the Singing Bass with drained batteries). And, it was at this point that they stopped dancing.

"Is he under already?" asked Dolores (the short-haired co-captain).

Ramona, waving her left hand in front of my unblinking face, nodded.

"The pre-recorded subliminal stuff they played aboard the plane must have softened him up, even better than we could've hoped!"

That's when Ramona turned back to me and said (in as deep and authoritative a voice as she could manage):

"Thresher? Sit down on the floor, with your back against the couch."

And, I watched myself do just that, without the slightest hesitation. All to the tittering delight of the other twirlers!

"Now, assume a fetal position and suck your thumb, while making baby noises."

More tittering followed, as I complied. A muffled "goo-goo/gah-gah" issuing from my thumb-sucking lips!

Fortunately, for me, Ramona soon ordered me to stop. She then went off-camera for a moment. Only to return with what I quickly recognized as...a baby bottle.

"Now, be a good boy, and drink this all down, Thresher."

There was even more tittering at this. What happened the instant I finished the contents of that bottle, however, was the most shocking experience, yet. Because, incredible as this might sound?

I shrank.

That's what I said. I shrank! Down to six inches in height!!

Ramona then picked up my shrunken form, and tucked it behind the silver-plated buckle of her white pleather belt. Following which, she sat down on the couch. Looking straight into the camera I hadn't even known was there.

And, that's when the chill of realization went down my spine.

"If you're finally awake and watching this, Thresher, then you know what happened to you. As to how it happened? Two words: shrinking potion!"

"The skim milk you wolfed down was laced with a fish-liver oil derived from Chiasmodon niger. A deep-sea fish more commonly known as 'the black swallower,' from its ability to devour other fish up to five times bigger than itself!"

"How it was able to do so has always been a zoological mystery...until now."

That last part was uttered in what I initially thought was stereophonic sound. That is; till the giant "movie screen" went dark, following another thunderous click. Then, the familiar female voice spoke up again.

"And, I guess congratulations are in order. Because, you're the first human being that we tested it on!"

I looked up. And, sure enough; there, grinning down at me (while her left hand held a giant TV remote control), was the lovely giant face of Ramona Magsaysay.

tbc

* * * * *

I hadn't wanted to admit it, out loud. I had tried to convince myself that what I had seen on the giant plasma flatscreen TV had been a home-made DVD with some kind of special effects added. But, I was wrong.

Insane as it sounded, I had been shrunken down in size. Small enough to fit on the mini-skirted lap of a majorette's uniform!

And, now her identically-attired fellow majorettes came out of hiding from behind the couch. All six of them bending down on knee, as if they were deferring to royalty. But, I knew it was really to just get a better look at me.

I looked back up at Ramona: "W-W-Why did you do this to me? And, is...is there an antidote?"

Ramona grinned. And, despite the giant size of her face, that grin was still maddeningly, irresistibly cute!

"Sorry, cutie! No antidote. Heck! My dad only recently isolated and duplicated the shrinking compound! You see, he's the one who finally solved the mystery of black swallower digestion. He teaches marine biology at San Ildefonso U."

"As to why we tested it on you?" she added (indicating, with a nod of her head, that she meant the other girls).

"Well, we were originally going to make Raoul Arnista our guinea pig. But, when you took his I.M.M.A. title away from him, we naturally had to change our plans!"

Two years earlier, Raoul Arnista had been my predecessor as world champion of International Mixed Martial Arts. And, he had won his way to that title by integrating sikkarin (the traditional kick-boxing art of his native Phillipines) with the Chinese arts of wing chun and so-called "tai chi mantis" kung fu.

"So, that's what this is about?!" I exclaimed: "Avenging national honor?"

She put her left hand over her mouth as she giggled.

"No, silly! We just needed to test it on someone in good physical shape. And, believe me. After watching hours of webcast videos of your fights, with you wearing nothing but red-white-and-blue trunks, we definitely had to agree; you're in _great_ physical shape!"

The other girls giggled, and nodded, as one.

"And, the movie deal?" I now asked: "That was all bull-crap. Wasn't it? Irv Duncan is just some con artist you hired to sucker me, here."

Again, Ramona nodded.

"So, what happens to me, now?"

"Well, while we're waiting for Irv to get back from the airport, with a new rent-a-car, why don't we have some fun? You're a kick-boxing champion. So, let's see how hard you can kick."

Whereupon, she immediately put her baton across my little legs, at waist level. While two of her fellow baton-twirlers removed my shrunken shoes and socks!

"Oh, no," I begged: "Please; not that. Anything but that!"

But, it was to no avail. Consuela, Manuela, and Patricia alternated tickling the sole of my right foot. While Marguerita, Ana-Maria, and Dolores took turns tickling the sole of my left!

"Coochie-coochie-coo!" they chorused: "Coochie-coochie-COO!"

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NO! S-Stop...HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

My little legs thrashed up and down. The fabric of Ramona's purple mini-skirt absorbing the sound, completely. Just as completely as my laughter was drowned by their giggling!

But, that wasn't the worst part. As I said; her baton had been laid across my waist. So that, as I sat there and helplessly thrashed and kicked and laughed, my nether-portions began to have a...big reaction.

tbc

* * * * *

That all changed, though, when my laughing became persistent coughing. A sign that I was rapidly becoming hyper-ventilated!

So, Ramona put her baton back on the couch, to her right, before withdrawing me from her belt buckle. She then propped me up, against the front of it, with her right hand over my legs. While, at the same time, the index finger of her left hand slowly caressed the dark hair of my head.

I don't honestly know whether it was that, or the soothing tune she started to hum, that gradually relaxed me. Allowing me to get my second wind and, ultimately, another hard-on!

But, the fact remains, it worked.

She then knelt down on the carpet, and placed me on the round glass-top of the coffee table located equidistantly between the couch and the plasma screen. The other six majorettes were quick to do likewise. As a result? I was surrounded by seven smiling giantesses. Yet, for some strange reason; the fact that they were smiling quite benignly was scarier, to me, than if they were hungrily licking their lips!

"S-S-So, what happens, now?" I nervously asked.

"Well," Ramona began: "As soon Irv gets back, we're heading straight to the airport, for the return flight to Manila. And, naturally, you'll be coming with us! But, since we can't take the chance that any customs inspector might recognize you (despite your new stature), we're going to disguise you."

"Disguise me?" I echoed.

She grinned and nodded: "As 'Bobo the Clown.' A kewpie doll we won as a prize, at one of the non-gambling attractions The Circus Circus Hotel features for youngsters!"

Now, this might sound crazy, given the circumstances. But, that made me mad!

"No! No way am I dressing up like a clown. You can't make me!!"

Ramona's grin broadened, and she looked at the other girls.

"Oh, can't we?"

Whereupon, seven right index fingers began to slowly reach down for me. Aiming right for my stomach! But, I was ready for them.

"Heeeeeeeeee-yaaa!" I yelled, aiming a shuto karate chop at the first one (Ramona's, of course). But, I missed, as she laughingly pulled it back, at the last second. And, the same thing happened with all the other girls' fingers.

No matter how many times I tried to hit or kick one of those giant fingers, they always proved faster at evading me. Their giggling growing louder and louder. Which, in turn, made me angrier and angrier. And, as each of my martial arts instructors used to say?

"An angry fighter is an inattentive fighter. Sowing the seeds of his defeat before the fight has even begun."

English translation: I became too mad to remain clear-headed. Which finally allowed one of the long-haired baton twirlers (Manuela, I think) to flick me in the behind!

Of course, the moment that happened, both of my hands instinctively flew to the affected area while I briefly screamed in pain, at the top of my lungs. Thereby leaving the front of my upper torso exposed to Ramona and the others.

"Coochie-coochie-COOOOOOOO" all seven of them chorused.

"No! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Not a...HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Not again!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

This time, when I became too exhausted to laugh, I fell down on all fours. Leading to all seven girls caressing my head and back, while soothingly humming. And, like a Pavlovian dog that never got fixed?

It made me horny as heck...and I loved it!

tbc

* * * * *

"Oh, yes!" I moaned in ectasy: "Yes-yes-yes-yes-YESSSSSSSSS!"

Ramona, seeing this, laughingly recommended that they lighten up on me.

"After all; we don't want to him suffer from premature exultation!"

Much to my intense embarrassment and disappointment, they giggled in agreement and stopped.

"Oh, come on!" I whined as I regained my feet: "Just five more minutes?"

They all giggled, again. Yet, Ramona smilingly shook her head in resolute refusal. So, to take my mind off of what had _almost_ happened, I remarked how that tune they had hummed sounded very familiar.

"What's it called?"

"Did you like it? It's our own version of 'The Itsy-Bitsy Spider.' Want to hear it?"

I nodded. So, they all began to sing, in perfect accapella harmony.

"The itsy-bitsy fighter climbed up the water spout.
Down came the baton, and wiped the figher out.
The majorettes who found him healed up all his pain.
So, in gratitude, he said he would
Always stay with them."

As they sang, more memories came flooding back to me. The DVD had mentioned "pre-recorded subliminal stuff." And, one of the instrumental songs I had listened to, aboard the Citation's flight to Las Vegas, was a fast-paced jazz version of "Itsy-Bitsy Spider!"

These girls had certainly thought of everything. Yet, tempted as I was, I had to fight the impulse to lose my temper, a second time. It had already been demonstrated, to me, just how ineffectual my martial arts prowess was, at this size. Plus, doing so might lead to worse punishment, for me, than mere tickling.

So, once again, I opted to be a gentleman.

"That was very lovely. You girls should go into show business after you graduate."

"We already are," said Ramona: "We've got a physical fitness segment on Metro-Manila Television called 'Twirlercise.' And, Irv has promised us international syndication of it through a Midwestern cable TV network here in the States!"

"You expect him to keep his word on that?"

"If he doesn't," grinned Ramona: "...I don't persuade my dad to sign with the pharmaceutical company Irv represents."

"Pharmaceutical company?" I echoed, completely puzzled.

"Oh, yeah! They're planning to mass market Enzyme X (that's what Dad unoffically calls it) as the ultimate weight-loss product! Of course, there's one obvious side-effect they have to eliminate, first. But, once they do, they'll make millions! And, so will Dad."

Now, this began to make a lot more sense. Before I could take this discussion any further, though, Ramona suddenly leaned forward and picked me up in both hands.

"Irv will be back, any moment, now. So, it's time to get you dressed."

"But, I am dr...!" I started to reply. Then, I remembered.

"Awwwwwwwww!" I whined, as pitifully as I could: "Do I have to?"

Ramona and the others giggled and nodded in unison. As a result? Consuela took off my white cowboy shirt (with the blue designer curlicues on both lapel pockets). While Manuela removed my black slacks with matching pleather belt.

Patricia then slowly inserted me into a gold-and-lime-green bodysuit that resembled a sequined unitard with built-on jodhpurs. Following which, Marguerita adorned my left foot with an identically-colored floppy shoe. While Ana-Maria got to do the same thing with my right. As for Dolores? The best-for-last was saved for her.

She got to put the pointy little hat (complete with chinstrap) on top of my head.

"Awwwwwwwwwwww!" they chorused, when Ramona showed me my reflection in the glass of the flatscreen: "How cute!"

"Do I at least get my real clothes back, when we reach Manila?" I asked, as plaintively as possible.

Ramona just grinned: "We'll see."

Needless to say, that did not fill me with confidence. Because, whenever my mother had uttered those words, in response to some childhood request of mine, it was usually as a synonym...for "never."

tbc

* * * * *

I was deposited back on the glass table-top. Once more becoming the center of a circle I couldn't have escaped from, even if I tried. And, believe it or not?

I didn't even _want_ to try!

Now, don't get me wrong. Part of me was still mentally screaming, in shock and protest, over how submissive I was gradually and increasingly becoming, with each new order these girls gave me. Just how many post-hypnotic commands had they implanted in my head, while I was in that initial trance? I'd probably never know for sure.

But, one thing I was certain of; it would be a long time (if ever) before they became bored with me. And, as if it were Fate's way of ramming that point home, the next thing Ramona ordered me to do...was dance!

"Dance?" I echoed, incredulously.

She and the others nodded in unison.

"The Wikipedia article on you said that you were a quick study, when it came to the martial arts. Well, let's see if that applies to dancing, as well."

She then pointed to Co-captain Dolores, who immediately threw a tooth pick at me, before reactivating the Ipod. I caught the tooth pick in my left hand. Whereupon, the Ipod began an encore of..."Itak-tak-mo!"

And, worse still? I found myself performing the exact same baton-twirling routine I had seen the girls doing on the DVD!!

Needless to say, they giggled at me through all four minutes of the routine. And, they clapped enthusiastically when I was done. As if I had done it one hundred percent flawlessly!

It was at this point that there was an automotive honk from outside. Followed, a moment later, by two more honks, in brief-and-quick succession.

Patricia ran to the big front window, and carefully peeked out through the drawn shade.

"It's Irv!"

"OK," replied Ramona: "Get the box."

"Box?" I echoed, once again: "What box?"

That question was soon answered, as a cardboard box with blue velvet lining was set down to my right.

"Time to play 'possum,' Thresher! Or, should I say, 'Bobo?' "

She indicated, with her right index finger, that I should climb inside the big square outline, in that lining, and lie down on my back. When I didn't prove quick enough, in response, she frowned a little.

"Do you want me to flush your street clothes down the on-board toilet, before your very eyes?"

She resumed smiling only after I was in position.

"Good boy! And, just remember to stay like that until after we're airborne."

"Thank you," I said (and meant it): "I was afraid I'd have to do this all the way back to Manila!"

"Nonsense!" she giggled in reply: "It wouldn't be that long a trip, anyway. We'll be flying aboard a retrofitted Concorde SST!"

Before I could ask how she and the other girls could afford to charter that kind of plane, my boxing in was completed by Ramona putting the lid of the carrying case over me! And, through its plastic screen (in which a couple of air holes had been pricked), I saw Ramona's smile broaden into a toothy grin. Topped off with a mischievous wink!

After that, I felt my ears partially stuff up with the change in altitude caused by Ramona picking me up, box and all. She then left the room, marching last in line behind the others. And, carrying me under her left arm.

The last thing I remember, before the ambient temperature of her curvaceous body lulled me to sleep, was her voice commenting:

"A 2004 Toyota Sienna? Not bad, Irv! It's certainly a step-up from that 1997 Ford Aerostar you drove us here, in."

To Be Concluded

* * * * *

Well, it's been one year since my shrinkage. And, the girls' prediction turned out to be right. While my folks, the police, and the FBI all conducted massive searches for me, none of them ever found me. Primarily, because no one was searching for a shrunken martial arts champion who still occasionally dresses like a clown!

Fortunately, for me, I'm only made to do that when strangers, or friends and relatives not in the know, come over to the deluxe hotel penthouse the girls live in when they're not videorecording their latest episode of "Twirlercise." You see; six months ago, N-zymex (as Irv Duncan's employers have brand-named it) finally hit supermarket shelves. And, it's become the hottest thing in the weight-loss field since Thigh Master!

Of course, it hasn't hurt that the makers of N-zymex sponsor "Twirlercise." Or, that the girls are receiving five percent of all profits generated from sales of both it and mail-order DVD's of their show.

When I'm not forced to wear the clown suit, all I get to wear are the red-white-and-blue trunks from the "Thresher Sharkey" action-figure line manufactured by Nakafusa Toys in Japan. It seems they've become a hot item since my... "disappearance." So, guess what?

Ramona threw out my shrunken street clothes!

Of course, the very first second I complained about that, seven pairs of hands took turns grabbing me up and tickling my feet! Following which, they calmed me down by rubbing my head with their index fingers, while simultaneously humming "The Itsy-Bitsy Spider."

As for Ramona's dad? He made enough money from his share of the sales profits to retire from teaching and open his own marine biology institute. He also gave San Ildefonso University's Music Department a very generous endowment. Their marching band has all new uniforms, now. Blue-white-and-gold.

Ramona and the girls, however, still wear their purple uniforms. Partly, to differentiate themselves from the band's current twirl line. And, partly, to always remind me of how we first met.

Masochistic as it might sound, though? I don't regret it! They're very gentle with me, for the most part. They only tickle my feet to punish me. And, even then, it's only when I've done something seriously wrong...in their eyes.

Still, I can only hope nothing like this ever happens, again, to any other mixed martial arts fighter.

* * * * *

OMNISCIENT AUTHOR P.O.V.

Dan Chan was not a materialistic soul. Just the same, he felt his eyes become rounder than those of an anime character when he looked at the retrofitted Concorde awaiting them at Newark International Airport, in New Jersey.

"I thought these aircraft had been permanently retired!"

"The CEO of Interchem bought one of them for his own personal use. Unfortunately, the fuddy-duddies at the FAA still won't allow one to land at Kennedy or LaGuardia. Even after all this time! So, this was the next best thing we could arrange."

"Well, I must admit, Mr. Duncan, I am duly impressed. And, it will be an honor to spar with Raoul Arnista. If only as part of a 'mistaken identity slug-fest' for a direct-to-video film! The only thing better would have been a full-contact match with 'Thresher' Sharkey. But, one cannot control the vagaries of Fate. Can one?"

Irv Duncan grinned like a Cheshire cat with rabies.

"I couldn't have said it better, myself, Mr. Chan."

THE END?