Hong Kong Dog Was one bad little girl, in
fact she really wasn't just a little girl she was eighteen years old and two months. She
was a piss cutter, a de-stroke rod, blue balls bitch kitty. Hong Kong Dog sat on top of a
case of ammunition dressed in nothing but a clear vinyl raincoat and a shiny silver
G-string. An AK 47 assault rifle rested snugly against her clit. Her very worn converse
tennis shoetapped out a time worn invisible rhythm of the cosmos. She brushed aside a huge
mound of platinum bleached blonde bangs. Theperoxide yellow color contrasted with her cool
olive /yellow complexion, accenting her unnerving aristocratic bone structure,sultriness,
perfection.
Hong Kong Dog's real name was Mieko Ling, but she also went by the alias Gina Barlow,
exotic dancer/performance artiste. Gina had developed a bad habit for 'crunch-n -munch'
(crack-rock cocaine). Gina held the freebase pipe close to her lips drawing the plastic
tasting smoke deep into her lungs, holding it there until the room began to pulse and
pump, and drip with dense motion. She was taking a short break in room number 13 just
outside of Cleveland Heights, Ohio. Her current mission was to intercept her former
drug-dealing associates in Cleveland Heights at a small pet store called "Fish and
Fur." Tomorrow before noon, a very hefty shipment of uncut high-grade heroin was
making its way into the greasy hands of her double-crossing employers. The Heroin had been
tightly wrapped in plastic bags, hidden in the bellies of several fat Japanese goldfish,
called Koi. The problem is that Hong Kong Dog's employers (Two brothers, Eddie and
Charlie) had no earthly clue that she had escaped DEA agents at Lax International Airport
in time to make it to back to Cleveland Heights Ohio. She would wait for Eddie and Charlie
to show up at the Fish and Fur posing as Japanese fish dealers.
Hong Kong Dog moved the safety in place on the rifle and carefully set the rifle down onto
the gold and brown patterned bedspread of the Holiday Inn Motel. The inhaled smoke from
the crack pipe began to take immediate effect. She lazily pointed the remote control at
the TV set switching channels until she stopped on an episode of "True Stories of The
Highway Patrol." Hong Kong Dog really enjoyed American Cop-shows. It was fascinating
to be stoned watching other poor victims being harassed or busted . . . just as long as it
wasn't Hong Kong Dog. Her head sunk into the hard Holiday Inn pillow and her brown eyes
quickly became heavy lidded. She watched in a haze as two angry, stern faced Kansas State
Troopers forced open the trunk of a rental car. The troopers began to smile as they came
up with the prize they had been looking for a brown bundle of marijuana. When sleep
finally came, Mieko Ling dreamed of her past.
Hong Kong was a highly skilled, highly trained, killing machine. She had started working
for drug heavies like Mr. Eddie and Mr. Charlie when she was about ten years old.
Mieko-Ling, almost always used a homemade silencer attached to her Glock 20-10mm. She
would spend hours sometimes filing down the barrel and shell chamber (which confused the
fuck out of ballistic experts when they found some of her very dead clients). Hong Kong
Dog almost always aimed for the head, preferably the eye sockets (always aim for the head
shot babbbeee!) Three months ago she had killed a white trash boyfriend, a mother and her
daughter and their paraplegic son. The family lived in Grand Rapids Michigan. The mother's
white trash boyfriend had accidentally discovered thirty pounds of uncut heroin when he
was mopping up the bathroom stalls at the local Burger King. It seems that Lloyd was
observant enough to notice a plastic bundle taped toward the bottom of one of the
commodes. At first the white trash boyfriend, Lloyd, thought that he had found coke, but
found out soon enough after snorting up a line of it that it wasn't coke it was very pure
smack. Lloyd had almost fallen asleep when he went outside to empty the 'grease traps'.
The white trash boyfriend that worked five nights a week at the Burger King had the very
bad luck to intercept a very important package of shit that was worth good money to Dog's
employers. Lloyd took the brown plastic package home that night after he had finished
closing down the Burger King. He parked his dilapidated Toyota Corolla on the side of the
house carried it inside and hid it.
Hong Kong Dog was sent to find the package. At nine o'clock Thursday morning she
approached the white frame house dressed in a Federal Express Delivery uniform. She
carried a small pocket sized stun gun. When the little girl with sleep still crusted on
her eyelids turned to call her mama to sign for a package, the Fed Ex Delivery girl pushed
open the screen door quickly producing a stun gun and quietly stunned each family member
into convulsive-electro submission. After she had bound the family's hands and feet
securely with silver duct tape, she dragged everyone into a back bedroom where she tightly
placed plastic bags over their heads. The entire job took no less than 30 minutes. Then
she found the missing smack. It had been sloppily hidden behind the television set.
Intuitively it was the first place she looked.
Hong Kong Dog had at one time worked as an operative for Chinese intelligence in the
Eastern Peking province. We are talking about a very dangerous and highly trained teenager
assassin with the misleading looks of an angel, a beautiful child. Hong Kong Dog was the
whole bloody shmear, the whole ball of wax. Mieko Ling had been born in San Francisco at
the John Muir Medical Center in a town called Walnut Creek. Her father, Chen Ling, had
been a Chinese immigrant. Both of her grandfathers had long histories as smugglers. They
had smuggled rum and cigarettes all over the country.
Mieko had been trained to smuggle her dope up her small ass, stuffed up into her
alimentary canal. She would conceal these drugs literally inside her digestive system to
be removed later. Almost twenty-four before Mieko Ling had arrived in Cleveland Heights,
Ohio, she had been held at the LAX International airport by a very concerned group of US
Customs agents. The customs agents had been tipped off to keep their eyes peeled on a
certain innocent looking, highly dangerous, possibly armed Oriental girl (she wasn't of
course) coming off of flight 1583 from Singapore. Hong Kong Dog was returning from
business, having traveled to Amsterdam, Thailand, and Singapore. The customs agent (who
had been set up way ahead of her arrival) stopped and asked to see Hong Kong's passport.
"Is there a problem?" " Why no Miss Barlow, no problem at all, just a
routine check that's all." Mieko produced a very icy cool smile that gave the customs
agent the creeps. She smiled at him as if she might be burning something unseen into his
brain. He looked away and blinked. Of course because of her innocent appearance (after all
she was just an eighteen-year-old kid for god's sake!) the customs agents and Feds
standing around unconsciously let their defenses down, and besides she really was a fine
looking teenage piece of ass! That would be their mistake. When the Customs agent finished
examining Gina Barlow's passport and saw that it was legit, he handed it back and asked to
go through her luggage. Gina handed her bag over to the asshole, he opened it up and
dumped the entire contents out on the table, really rude like. All this time Gina Barlow
is keeping her cool, like an Asian iceberg. So then the dickbrain goes ripping through
everything in the entire purse, opening her makeup bag, looking through her compacts, her
portable CD player, and nothing; not a trace of anything that might be suspicious. Then he
reached for her box of Maxi-Fresh Pads.
He grabbed the box by the bottom, shook it around and guess what fell out? A syringe!
Almost on cue an entire swarm of DEA agents appeared with guns drawn. She had less than
2cc of dope in it anyway. The good stuff had been swallowed in a tightly wrapped balloon
four hours earlier. It sat inside her like a neat biological package. Later all she had to
do was drink a couple cans of prune juice or eat an Ex-Lax tablet, and plop, plop, out
would come the good chiva.
They even strip-searched her, searching every nook and cranny trying to find the hot
package of smack, but not a goddamned trace showed up. They could only legally detain her
on that small of an amount of narcotics for 24 hours. According to California state law
she was then free to walk. Jeff Keltch, who had headed up the bust, was pissed. They
hadn't produced a Goddamned thing. The young girl was as clean as a whistle. Hong Kong Dog
would try and hold out as long as she could but she knew all to well that she was holding
inside her stomach no fewer than eight balloons filled with 1.2 pounds of Beijing white
lady heroin.
Mieko Ling soon discovered that this was all a botched set-up by Eddie and Charlie. She
figured that their Asian balls had become too swollen for their own pathetic egos and that
they didn't need Mieko running interference for them anymore. Besides she figured that
they must have thought that she had become too dangerous, or knew too much about their
future operations. The two brothers had tried to divert "Dog," expecting these
DEA LA Keystone cops to hold her long enough, locked up tight with no chance of appeal,
but Mieko knew better. (Besides she had been in much stickier situations than this
before.) It didn't take long for Mieko to figure out that the "Dark-Brothers"
were getting rid of her services. She assumed that they thought that by planting a syringe
in her luggage, then by tipping some crooked DEA agents off at LAX INT’L. then hold
her there until she had to plop the real prize winning bundle of shit out her ass, then
arrest her on the spot, Mieko goes to trial and the Judge (hand -picked) also on the take,
throws the entire fucking book at her and she ends up serving FOUR, twenty year sentences
back to back with out a damn scent of parole. Mieko could clearly see the smug looks on
the agent's faces as they walked her down to a temporary holding cell.
Once inside the cell Mieko observed the structure, plotting an exit. First she grabbed
onto a rusting drain pipe pulling herself up toward the ceiling. Suspending herself with
one hand she removed a ceiling tile (the ceiling tile measured 12x12x12) then hoisted her
tiny figure up into a dusty, dark ventilation shaft. She replaced the ceiling tile
perfectly back into its place. This took a total of 6.2 seconds. Once Mieko was inside the
crawlspace she carefully maneuvered through the dark until she found what she was looking
for, an opening over one of the many airport linen closets. Luck was with Mieko as almost
always. She dropped her lithe body through the ceiling of the linen closet. She searched
in the dark for the light switch and found it. Mieko found a rack of Sky Cap uniforms.
Stripping out of her clothes, she changed into the dark blue uniform with gold embroidery
on the shoulders. Mieko took a deep breath, opened the door and walked into the swarming
crowds of people moving through the busy airport. Mieko fit in perfectly as an airport
employee, even walking past a group of US Federal Marshals.
The Marshals were hypnotized by a baseball game on a small black and white TV. On the TV
The LA Dodgers were getting the shit kicked out them by the opposing team. The Federal
Marshals were clearly irritated at the Dodgers’ performance. One Marshall began to
raise his voice, and his face turned a bright red. "You shoulda swung at that!! You
damn pussy!" The irritated Marshall looked at the other officers disgusted faces.
"Did you see that?" That ball was high and on the inside!!! Any poor stupid fuck
could’ve slammed that horsehide outta the park for Christ's sake!!!!! My eight year
old daughter in little league would have hit that ball!!! Jeeesus Mother o' Christ!!!
We're paying those lazy bastard's too fuckin much money, that's what the Goddamned problem
is!!! "Sixty- million dollars a year Goddamn Prima donna Super-fuckin-stars, that's
what they are!!!"
The camera panned to a shot of the famous Tommy Lasorda in the dugout. Tommy seemed very
calm even though his team was losing. He realized he was on national television and waved
dutifully, he also dug his finger deep into his ass with out a hint of embarrassment.
Mieko Ling used the sporting event to her advantage walking straight past the local police
and the Federal Marshals and into the bright, optimistic California sunshine. She quickly
spotted a red Fiat Spider sports car with the keys left in the ignition, got behind the
wheel, started it up and was gone.
The DEA agent in charge of watching Mieko Ling, Lorenzo Gifforde, instead of checking the
holding cell periodically as instructed, spent a large chunk of time in an airport
bathroom stall unloading a malevolent shit that was quickly brought on by greedily gulping
down several greasy tacos and burritos. Lorenzo read the Metro section of the LA Times
while he shit. After wiping and flushing, Lorenzo felt pleasantly proud and satisfied. It
was a gratifying dump. He looked in the mirror as he washed his hands and smiled to
himself. He adjusted his .45 caliber pistol in his shoulder holster. He carefully dried
each hand with a beige piece of paper and whistled to himself as he threw the paper in the
waste basket. When he looked closer at himself in the mirror, he noticed that he was aging
badly. He continued to become more bald, but even so , he convinced himself that he
resembled a good-looking Charles Bronson type. The fat balding agent pulled his pants up
over an ever increasing beer belly, and gave his dick a short squeeze. He was thinking of
Mieko Ling as he honked his dick. "She is a fine little piece of ass, that's for
goddamned sure, a sweet little cocksucking chink!" Lorenzo Gifforde thought that his
prisoner must really be sweating it out! When DEA agent Gifforde peered inside the small
glass window, his face turned a pasty, sickly white color. There was NO prisoner in the
room. There was no beautiful teenage Asian smuggler, NOTHING, Nothing at all but empty
space. 'Hong-Kong Dog"/Gina -Barlow / Mieko Ling had escaped without leaving behind a
single trace. The California sunshine had began to set after Lorenzo Gifforde finished
receiving the ass-chewing of a lifetime. He was more than ready to get in his car, drive
home to Long Beach, slam a few glasses of scotch and try to forget that he was in deep
shit with his career and the entire Bureau. This had simply been the sole most humiliating
day of his entire life as a law enforcement officer. Twenty-six years working as a drug
enforcement agent flushed down the toilet. Fucked by taking a thirty-minute shit.
Overweight, balding, Agent Lorenzo Gifforde never made it to that bottle of Dewars. He was
found later on that night by airport security behind the wheel of his Ford Taurus, his
brains dramatically decorating the all white leather interior. There were three pinpoint
accurate bullets holes fired expertly into the front of his fat face. One in each eye
socket and the third in the center of his large forehead. By the time a forensic team was
zipping up a black vinyl body bag with deceased agent Gifforde's body, Gina Barlow -Hong
Kong Dog, had a seventeen hour head start over her clumsy pursuers.
(Fat-City)
Mieko Ling awoke the next morning with a wake up call from the front desk. She sat up
in bed in a pair of bright yellow bikini panties. She unconsciously reached for a lighter
and her Marlboro cigarettes. She noticed that the light over the bathroom was left on and
the water in the sink had been running all night lightly falling through the drain. She
looked at her watch. Time to go. "Time to see a man about a dog." In a large
black gym bag she carefully packed her weapons of choice. Kalishnikov AK 47 rifle,
Mossberg Model 500 ATP8- 12 Gauge shot gun, and Glock Model 20 10mm Semi -automatic
pistol. She showered quickly, then put on a striped T-shirt, faded blue jean cut offs and
a pair of black Keds tennis shoes.
She zipped the gym bag up and carefully placed it in the trunk of the small, white,
nondescript rental car, parked outside in the parking lot beneath her room. She lit
another cigarette, grabbed a copy of the Gideon Bible, and walked to the front desk to
check out. After she paid for the room she went next door to "The Tank and
Tummy" and ordered a quick breakfast. (A glass of orange juice, coffee-black, and two
blueberry pancakes with shoes on). At 09:00am she turned the key in the ignition of the
Chevy Go Metro and guided the compact car onto interstate 65 heading south into town.
As Eddie and Charlie Black's drug business had began to bloom and spread out, each brother
was given his own territory to operate. That morning they had both unconsciously dressed
in identical expensive charcoal-grey Italian-cut suits. Eddie and Charlie needed the money
that could be made from this shipment of pure uncut heroin. Eddie and Charlie had both
tried samples. It had knocked both of them on their ass respectively, in fact you didn't
even have to search for a vein . You could just 'skin-pop' which was very convenient for
your typical high school amateur-chippie. The kind of kids that would drive from their
tract 'mansions' in pedicured, suburbia and drive their BMW'S down to the south side of
town somewhere and score the 'new-thing'. Both brothers possessed brilliant criminal minds
and envisioned breaking away from their own bosses. They wanted to build their very own
Asian crime 'empire'. As they finished dressing, you might have noticed that each brother
was missing their pinkie fingers on the left hand. These missing digits were a symbol of
loyalty to their (boss).
The 'black-brothers' had done very well for themselves in a short amount of time. They had
wisely used their ambitions to invest illegal gains from prostitution, pornography,
smuggling, narcotics distribution of all sorts, gun running, extortion, and lucrative real
estate purchases. They prided themselves in the way they always conducted business in a
'professional' manner. In every way possible they attempted to discreetly hide their
criminal activity as legitimate business transactions.
The thought of Mieko-Ling had not entered their brains for at least 24 hours. They had
received a call from their contact in Los Angeles telling them that she had been arrested
by customs agents and was awaiting transfer to a permanent lockdown facility. This pleased
both Eddie and Charlie. They had both agreed that as efficient and loyal that Mieko Ling
had been in the past, that she did not play a part in the drug empire that Charlie and
Eddie were planning . Besides, Mieko had shown signs of being unpredictable. Mieko could
be very headstrong and this represented 'danger' to the brothers.
Almost one hour exactly after Mieko had driven away from the Holiday Inn, Eddie and
Charlie were pulling onto the main Interstate in a brand new, fully-loaded, black Lincoln
Continental . They were carefully following the road map on route 65 down from thewindy
city of Chicago. There in Columbus Heights, Ohio, they expected to find their hired muscle
"Tung Lew" who was to be waiting in a nondescript pale blue Ford mini van on
Forrester Street in front of the pet store Fish and Fur. Eddie and Charlie had high hopes
that Tung Lew would be able to fill Mieko's unavoidable absence.
Chester Bagwell was the proud proprietor of the small pet store in Columbus Heights. At
six o'clock that very morning Ambrose had picked up a shipment of thirty very large,
Japanese Koi fish from the cargo area at Norwest Airlines. The China-men who had arranged
the purchase seemed awfully fussy over what Ambrose dismissed as fat goldfish. The Koi
fish had come wrapped in individual plastic bags with their own water, each sealed
carefully inside its own cardboard box. Ambrose remembered reading somewhere that some Koi
could live to be almost two hundred years in very special cases. Ambrose was merely
considering turning sixty five next month and was suffering from a bad case of
hemorrhoids. The chili dog he had eaten for lunch was probably not good for his
cholesterol count, in fact it was giving him horrible gas. Chester Bagwell looked out the
window of the pet store and thought it looked like rain.
Tung Lew, Charlie and Eddie Black's (hired muscle) was having a love affair with cheap
vodka and barbiturates. It recently had begun to interfere with heartfelt career choice as
muscle for hire. He had been up all night the previous night staggering around a party
roaring drunk and high on speed and coke. He remembered something about cussing some
stupid bitch out, then throwing up all over the place. Tung Lew was starting to realize
that his constant, heavy drinking and drugging was making it hard for him to get it up.
'Maybe that's why I started slapping that dumb cunt around at the party.' Wasn't that
bitch laughing at him because couldn’t get it up? Fuck it, he was too hung over to
think clearly.
Tung Lew had also recently fallen from grace when he had been sent to do a hit on a fat
pig named Chen Lee. He had fucked up and let Chen Lee live. He remembered buzzing on a
couple of tablets of Demerol and some booze when he tried to grease that monkey piece of
shit Chen. That sorry motherfucker didn't want to die, no way no how. He had drunkenly
unloaded a full clip into the surprised face of Chen while he was watering the lawn in his
back yard. But Tung Lew knew that if he hadn't been so buzzed, he would have checked for a
pulse or at the very least tied a plastic bag tight around what was left of his face.
As it turned out Chen Lee spent eighteen hours in a emergency room and survived. He would
never be able to see again, or even utter a single word, but you see, the problem was that
his fat pig of a heart was technically still moving blood through those well known four
chambers and that looked bad for his employers, and even worse it was considered bad luck.
A bad omen. That was why Tung Lew found himself sitting in front of a pet store in
Columbus Heights, Ohio. It was a demotion of sorts. Fuck, he felt more like a pizza
delivery boy than a hit man. Tung Lew was disgusted by the recent chain of events that
creeped their stinking way into his life of late. Just a run of bad luck, that's all, just
a spell of bad luck, why it could happen to anyone. Tung Lew looked at his watch and
waited for the brothers to show up in front of the pet shop. He shook a cigarette out of
his pack, lit it, and inhaled the hot smoke. He closed his eyes for a moment and leaned
his head back against the head rest. He reached into his shirt pocket and placed a bright
yellow pill under his tongue. He chased the Percodan tablet down his throat with a drink
of warm soda. He knew that the brothers would show up soon and he would load up the fancy
shipment of fish into the van. He was instructed to make sure that nothing would go wrong.
As the effects of the Percodan slowly came on, his mind lazily drifted towards a young
girl dressed in funeral black pushing a baby carriage down the street. He thought to
himself that she must have come from a funeral nearby. Well, it could be worse, I could be
dead.....
Hong Kong Dog Moved the baby carriage closer to the van. She watched the man behind the
wheel of the Ford mini-van closely, her features obscured by a lace veil. She analyzed the
features of his face mechanically. She noticed that he was Asian, was a heavy drinker, and
that he seemed to chew his fingers out of nervous tension. She stopped and reached into
the carriage to adjust the baby's blanket. She brought out a Sokolovsky .45 Automatic
pistol with a silencer and pointed it at the window of the van. She inhaled taking a deep
breath, and focused the sight of the Russian-made gun at the bridge of Tung Lew's nose.
The index finger of her left hand squeezed off three muffled bursts of fire. Only one hole
broke the glass of the van for all three shots. The sound of empty shells broke the
silence of the autumn afternoon with a tink, tink, tink sound.
Mieko moved the veil from her face and opened the door to the van. Tung Lew's body had
slumped to the side. He lay face up on the light blue crushed velvet seat. Brain matter
and blackish blood painted the inside of the van. Mieko looked around the street, not a
soul had heard the three gunshots. She bent down and picked up the empty bullet casings
and put them in the baby carriage. Mieko pushed the baby stroller up on the curb in front
of the store window of the Fish and Fur.
Chester Bagwell was bent over an out of date People magazine. He flipped listlessly threw
the slick colored pages. Lots of pearly white smiles. He wondered where those fussy
chinaman could possibly be. When the door to the shop opened, it announced the new visitor
with a tinkling bell. He thought for an instant that it might be the China men. It
wasn’t. Hong Kong Dog pushed the baby stroller inside the shop, turned quickly
shutting the door and fastening the dead bolt securely into place. Mieko looked through
the funeral veil and joylessly studied the old man's face. Chester Bagwell wore a white
mustache and a baseball cap that said "America- Love It! Leave It! ...Or get the hell
out!!!. Chester had sleepy grey eyes that looked very confused. Chester spoke to the young
girl. "Can I help you Miss?" Mieko did not say a word back to the old man. She
thought that his face seemed old and tired and bored. Mieko suddenly sprung into action.
She reached in the baby stroller and pulled out a hand held stun gun. Chester became
frightened, and his face drained of all color. Mieko moved around the counter and
violently grabbed Chester by the back of his head slamming his face down hard into the
cash register. Blood gushed freely from Chester's nose. She activated the stun gun with a
crackling electricity sound. She held this to the old man's chest until he flopped to the
floor like a rag doll, knocking over a display of porcelain dog and cat statuettes. She
pulled a thin plastic bag from her pocket and pulled it snugly over Chester's head. She
knelt beside his unconscious body and felt for his pulse. It was barely there. She then
pulled a length of thin wire around his neck and dragged his body into a back storage
room. Chester Bagwell suffocated in the dark, lying on bags of Purina dog chow.
Hong Kong Dog removed the black velvet pill shaped hat held in place with a long stick
pin. She needed a cigarette badly. She removed a tiny zippered box from her purse. Inside
was a pack of Marlboros; a cheap disposable lighter; an unopened syringe wrapped in
plastic; a spoon, and a thin flat piece of rubber. Mieko set these items down on the
counter, then looked around the tiny pet store. There were soft furred domestic rabbits in
pens, colored parakeets, and all sorts of brilliant colored tropical fishes. She found
where Chester Bagwell had unpacked the shipment of Koi. They were neatly lined up, stacked
side by side in bright orange boxes . On the outside of the box was a cartoon drawing of a
fish smiling and the name of the fish dealer that it had been shipped from in Gardena.
Mieko opened one of the boxes. Inside was a plastic bag filled with clear water. She held
up the large fish to the light and his vibrant colorful scales reflected neon light from
above. The Koi seemed trusting as Mieko carefully reached in the bag and held the fish
steady. She pushed two slim fingers inside the fat belly of the fish and
pulled out a small tightly wrapped baggy. She placed the fish back into the water and
sealed the bag closed.
Mieko unwrapped the baggie. Inside of it was pure white, uncut Bejing smack. She
meticulously began the ritual she knew all too well. Unwrapping the syringe, she then
seductively unzipped the back of her dress halfway letting it fall off her shoulders
freeing her thin arms. She tied the rubber tourniquet securely against the gravity of her
skin. This created a dam of blood behind the end of her elbow. The snow-white heroin
filled the curve of the spoon. She picked up the lighter and held it for a good while
beneath the spoon. Black soot and tiny wisps of smoke cascaded from underneath the flame
at the point of contact. Mieko pushed the plunger and closed her eyes.
