The Time I Met Bruce Lee

Karen,

It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you.  Too long.  I haven’t been in touch lately, and I blame Bruce Lee.

I met martial arts legend Bruce Lee at a Chuck-E-Cheese by my house.  Yes, THE Bruce Lee.  He was there for his nephew’s birthday party, and I was there to defend my Skee-Ball championship.  I’d like to take the time to point out that I beat over ten 7 and 8 year olds to obtain the crown, and I’d also like to establish that the fact I was 24 in no way gave me an unfair advantage over those kids.  Everyone is equal on the Skee-Ball court.

So there I was playing some Ball; killing it, obviously; when I saw Bruce.  I recognized him immediately, because he was featured prominently in a karate class that I was taking online at the time.  As excited as I was, I had to play it cool.  I knew we’d get along fabulously; he’s Chinese, I love General Tso’s chicken; but I knew that he probably had people fawning over him everywhere he went.  I was determined to be more than a fan boy.  I was going to leave a lasting impression.

My solution: I decided I was going to throw a flying kick straight at Bruce Lee’s back.  I saw two possible scenarios, and both promised me fame and riches.  That’s what we like to call a win-win, Karen.


Scenario 1: He blocks me.  Let’s be honest: this is the more likely of the two.  I figured that he would sense me coming; he’s Bruce Lee after all, and the Chinese are a naturally magical people; and block the blow.  But even if he blocked me, he would have to be impressed by my initiative.  Here I am, a white male of only 24 years and limited eKarate knowledge, attacking martial arts legend Bruce Lee?  That’s unprecedented confidence.  Surely, this would lead him to tutor me.  We would develop a close relationship; dare I say it, father-son or at least brother-brother; and travel the world in style.  I would be envied and revered by fighters around the globe.  I would be Bruce Two.  I would be the Karate Kid.

Scenario 2: I kick him.  I actually kick Bruce Lee.  I beat him at his own game.  That’s like if the guy who played Frodo Baggins windmill dunked on LeBron James.  But I did it.  I kicked Bruce Lee.  This isn’t even in sanctioned competition, this is in Chuck-E-Cheese, where street rules are the letter of the law and chaos reigns.  And I kicked Bruce fucking Lee.  He might get angry, he might get upset, he might beat the living shit out of me; that isn’t the point, Karen.  The point is, I kicked Bruce Lee and everybody around the world would know it.  I would get thousands of interview requests, which I would thrive at because of my rugged good looks and quick wit.  Kelly Ripa would love me.  Brad Pitt would know me by name.  I would go to Brad Pitt’s house.


So I jumped into the air, threw out my foot, and flew toward Bruce.  And I connected.  He was propelled onto the table where his nephew was opening gifts, his head hit, and he was knocked out cold.  I had won.  I danced around that Chuck-E-Cheese for a good ten minutes.  I high-fived strangers.  I went down slides.  I peed in the ball pit.  For ten glorious minutes, I was on top of the world.

I defeated Bruce Lee.

Turns out, it wasn’t Bruce Lee.  It was just an old Asian guy.  He wasn’t even Chinese.  When I kicked him and his head hit the table, he died.  I killed that Bruce Lee lookalike, Karen.  Kicked him dead.  It was a sad, avoidable tragedy; frankly, one whose blame falls squarely on the shoulders of that old Asian man and his family.  I’m willing to bet I wasn’t the first person that made that mistake, and if that old dude had survived, I wouldn’t have been the last either.  When it comes down to it, he should have been wearing an indicator; a pin, a shirt, a sash, etc.; that identified him as NOT Bruce Lee.  This guy was a dead ringer for Bruce.  Karen, he was practically begging to be attacked.

Now, I’m in jail and it’s all that old fucker’s fault.  I’ve seen things in here that even the real Bruce Lee would be powerless to stop.  So I need your help, Karen.  I need you to find me a good lawyer, someone like Bill Clinton or the guy who stars in Law & Order.  Is Bill Clinton a lawyer?  If he isn’t, he should be.  Tell him that from me, Karen.

I need your help.  Because as it turns out, the guys in here don’t care that I knocked out Bruce Lee.

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