Big Breasts & Wipe Hips: A Novel

Maintaining the silence was no longer a concern to him, as he cursed one minute and wailed the next. The sauna-softened soles of his feet took a beating from the shards of brick and tile on the ground, while the freezing night air cut into his skin, made tender by the Thai masseuse. At that moment he realized that people who have spent years in Hell aren’t especially bothered by its agonies, but such is not the case with those who have lived in more heavenly circumstances. Now he felt as if he’d been consigned to the lowest level of Hell, that he was as miserable as he’d ever been. Thoughts of the scalding water in the sauna baths made the bitter cold seem as if it had penetrated the marrow of his bones. Thinking back to the days of passion spent with Old Jin, he reminded himself that he had been naked then too; but that was being naked for fun. And now? Walking the streets late at night, he felt like a zombie.
    Dogs had been outlawed in the city by municipal order. A dozen or more abandoned dogs — fascist-like German shepherds, mastiffs with the bearing of lions, loose-skinned Shar-Peis, and other breeds — had come together to form a pack, making its home in garbage heaps. Sometimes they were so stuffed with food they poisoned the air with their farts; at other times they were so hungry they could barely drag themselves along. The dogcatchers of the Municipal Environmental Protection Bureau were their mortal enemies. Not long before, Jintong had heard that the son of Zhang Huachang, the MEP Bureau chief, had been singled out from the hundreds of children at a kindergarten, taken off by a pack of savage dogs, and eaten. At the time, Zhang’s son was playing on a carousel when a black wolfhound soared like an eagle from a high chain bridge, landing precisely in the seat occupied by the poor little boy; it grabbed his neck in its jaws as a motley collection of mongrels emerged from hiding places as a protective unit for the wolfhound. They swaggered unhurriedly past the petrified kindergarten teachers and carried the bureau chief’s son off with them. The famous radio personality, Unicorn, ran a series of broadcasts about this frightful incident on the local radio station, concluding with the astonishing view that the dog pack was disguised members of a society of criminals. Back when Jintong had been neatly dressed and was eating like a king, the news had made no impression on him. But now he could think of nothing else. The city was just then promoting “Love your city, keep it clean month,” and garbage collection had become a priority, so the dogs had been reduced to skin and bones. Dogcatchers were armed with imported automatic rifles with laser gunsights, forcing the dogs to spend the days down in the sewers, not daring to show themselves above ground, emerging only at night to scavenge for food. They’d already killed and eaten the Shar-Pei belonging to the owners of a furniture shop, and Jintong, with his inviting naked flesh, was in danger of becoming the next course.
    The mastiff pressed toward him on paws as big as human fists, its fangs glinting between upturned lips, growls emerging from deep in its throat. A pair of wolfhounds that could have been twins were right behind it, one on each side as a protective escort, sinister looks on their long, thin faces. A ragtag assortment of mutts brought up the rear.
    They were about to attack; the fur on their backs was standing straight up. Slowly Jintong retreated, after bending down and picking up two black rocks. His first impulse had been to turn and run; but then he recalled the advice Birdman Han had once given him: When you’re face-to-face with a wild animal, the worst thing you can do is run. No two-legged animal can outrun a four-legged one. Your only hope is to stare it down.
    The dogs pressed forward, confident that this big piece of tender meat in front of them was on the verge of cracking up, getting closer and closer to total paralysis. His steps began to falter as his legs turned increasingly rubbery and his body swayed from side to side; the rocks were about to slip from his hands, and the foul sweat of fear oozed from his pores.
    Jintong’s eyes were glazing over; the rocks fell to the ground. He knew that the moment of his liberation from worldly concerns had arrived. But how could he end his days on earth in the stomachs of a pack of dogs? Wearily, he thought of his mother, and he thought of Old Jin, who, with her single breast,