Creative Comedy Project
The League By Andrew Fawn
“What have I done now?!” I mumble to myself as I knock on the door to the Headmaster's office. The note didn't say why he wanted to see me. Still, it's better than being stuck in another boring geography lesson.
“Enter,” his booming voice calls.
What could it be? What could it be?
It takes something really big to be called to Mr. Bolton's office. I've never done anything that big but I have a habit of saying the first thing that comes to mind, which sometimes leads to the odd detention or three.
“Thanks for coming Andrew,” he says, smiling.
Technically I was summoned, so I had no choice, but I just about manage not to say that.
“Take a look at these, they're designs for posters and banners. The Year Ten pupils put them together.”
And with that, Mr. Bolton slides over some glossy sheets of paper and I realise why I'm here: the Council are having a celebration for Chinese New Year to ensure the ten Oriental people who live in this town feel included and the school is taking part by helping with the artwork. There are dragons, pandas and people in coolie hats and lots of Mandarin writing, some of which I understand, most of which I don't. You see, I'm Chinese.
Actually... I'm only a quarter Chinese, though I usually say part-Chinese because (a) I don't think it works exactly like fractions do and because (b) I like to tell grown-ups that the “part” that's Chinese is my left leg, then watch the look on their faces as they try to work out if that could possibly be true.
I'm also a little Scottish but mostly English (definitely two very different species, my Nana insists) and somewhere back a few generations, Jewish. It's complicated.
“They're nice,” I lie.
He probably wants to know if it's accurate.
Yeah because all Chinese people wear coolie hats whilst riding dragons to go visit their panda friends.
“And you think it'll be okay?” he says, sounding nervous. It's always weird hearing grown-ups sound nervous. Weird and funny.
Now I'm wondering why Erica isn't here? Every part of her is Chinese. Maybe Mr. Bolton thinks this is only one-quarter offensive?
“No I don't think so,” I offer again, and then something pops into my brain and I can't stop it before it gets out: “But I'll check at the next meeting of the League of Extraordinary Orientals.”
That'll be detention for a month. A year maybe.
“Thanks Andrew, that would be lovely.” Mr. Bolton says, smiling. I can't work out if he is being serious or not so I wait for a few seconds until he adds: “Let me know what they say.”
On the walk back to class, all I keep thinking is how cool it would be if there were a League of Extraordinary Orientals.
We could fight crime together. On our dragons.
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