A Hand Up, Not a Hand Job

Ever since the Oriental race was first domesticated by man, the female of the species has proven herself an excellent companion to her male better, attending to his needs for a negligible fee and enduring psychological and bodily torments Western women have long since spurned, though it is their biblical duty to patiently abide them. While harmless in captivity, female Orientals can be extremely dangerous if encountered in the wild. As the once-steady trickle of Oriental immigrants has exploded into a raging torrent in recent years, knowing how to react if you come upon one is crucial.

As Lonnie would have it, not four weeks ago I came face-on-face with a live one: the fabled Oriental temptress. Much like my ill-fated meeting with the Herptilian shapeshifter Taylor Swift, this will go down as one of the most sinful experiences of my life. I have only now mustered up the strength to share my story, moved to do so solely by the knowledge that there are others like me who need someone to be their voice.

I was the victim of a violent crime. A crime of passion. A crime involving the premeditated murder of millions, if not billions.

It happened to me.

It all started early May, when I felt God calling me to take a missionary journey to the pagan province of Southern California to preach the gospel to the lost foreigners unfortunately taking up residence there. Though I was warned by my comrades-in-arms at BLUFF University that my righteous soul would be tormented by what I saw and heard there, I paid them no mind. Cursed with drought as punishment for overturning Prop. 8, the people of this sin-stricken state have failed to heed the repeated warnings of the prophets of the LORD. Everything here is brown: the rivers and lakes, 39% of the population, even the Governor!

California Walmart Supercenters are in danger of running out of water any day now! This profitable, godly business is only the latest in a long string of casualties of the gay agenda.

Following the Obama administration’s suspension of the longstanding, wildly successful Oriental workfare (i.e., the Transcontinental Railroad) and Oriental housing (i.e., internment camps) programs, poverty rates among Oriental Californians have soared. Countless hundreds of thousands have been forced to relocate to gated community ghettos and rely on point A to point B Lexus, Mercedes and BMW sedans for transportation to and from orchestra rehearsal. Under these intolerable conditions, an increasing number have turned to a life of crime against private morality and decency to make ends meet. And make ends meet, they do.

Enjoying a fap-free frap outside of the Hemet Valley Mall: the West Coast’s premiere shopping destination!

Praise Hobby Lobby!

After a brief stay in the lush desert resort town of Hemet, the poor man’s Palm Springs, where I met with the local Hobby Lobby affiliate to discuss upcoming business ventures on behalf of SMN Industries, I traveled further westward to the coastal weekend get-away, Harbor City.

Hemet had turned out to be a surprisingly refreshing oasis of godliness in a vast wasteland of iniquity, and I had high hopes for Harbor City. As it ranked #3 on Buzzfeed.com’s “16 Places to Visit Before You Die”, I figured I’d give it the ole’ BLUFF try.

After checking into my room at the local Motel 7 (a sinless, Christian alternative to the Satanic Motel 6 chain), I decided to take a leisurely afternoon stroll through the neighborhood. As BLUFF missionary by-laws require all traveling ministers of the gospel to be in their rooms, lights out, no later than 6:30pm (it is a well-known FaithFact that nothing godly happens after that time), I would have to get all my sightseeing in during the next couple hours. I stopped at the local Rite-Aid for a late lunch, then continued down the thoroughfare.

Other than liquor stores (which I am to avoid as a recovering social drinker), it appeared the only form of diversion–or for that matter, the only businesses within a 2 mile radius–were Oriental massage parlors (OMPs). “Perfect!” I thought. “I can go in undercover pretending to be a customer and catch these foreigners off-guard with the gospel when they least expect it!”

I entered the lobby of ‘Healing Wand of Light Massage’, which oddly was empty. To the left of me was a door, in front of me a counter with an intercom behind a pane of glass. I looked up and saw a camera in the corner and only then noticed the eight small TV screens on the wall. “Must be a bad part of town,” I shrugged.

I waited two more minutes before I was finally helped. An exceptionally unattractive Chinese woman who could not have been a day short of 70 came to the window. “Yes? What you want?” she barked through the intercom.

“Umm, I’m here for the… massage? Are you the masseuse?”

“No, I mamasan. You come here before?”

“No, I’m from out of town. It’s my first time.”

“We have nice girl for you!”

“Oh, okay. Thanks.”

She then came around and opened the door. “What your name?”

“Cornelius.”

Betsy, the mamasan at Healing Wand of Light Massage. I never did find out exactly what a mamasan is.

“Cornerius! Ahh! You rike massagee?” She clasped my hands, staring intently into my eyes with a smile. It was strangely comforting, but mostly repulsive. I allowed her to continue holding my hands as I figured I might as well get used to being touched by Orientals if I’m going to go through with the mission.

“Well, I’ve never had one before. I usually don’t let women touch me. I mean, I’m an alternative practitioner and I’ve always heard that massages can be good for your health.”

“Yes! So good! So good for you!”

“How much does it cost?”

“Forty, half-hour. Fifty, forty-five minute. Sixty, one hour.”

“Okay. I guess I might as well take the full hour.” I pulled out a wad of freshly-minted Lonniebucks totaling $60 and handed them to her.

“Here, I take you to room.” She guided me to a darkly lit room in the back. “You take off clothes and wait.”

“Take off… all my clothes?”

“Yes. You lay on table. Under towel.” Mamasan turned and walked out, closing the door behind her. I stood alone in the dark, quiet room, confused and disorientaled.

What happened next will shock you.

(to be continued…)