The narrow bamboo trees offered no concealment, so Bart-chan and Lisa-kun had to dress themselves behind bushes. Momentarily Lisa-kun emerged in Bart's perfectly fitting clothes and sneakers, and Bart-chan followed seconds later, wearing a baggy red dress, a pearl necklace, and buckle shoes that flopped when she walked.
"Don't worry, Bart," said Lisa-kun as he obligingly fastened the girl's dress zipper. "Once we get to the hotel, we'll take a hot shower and everything will be back to normal."
"At least I get a chance to try on your underwear," said Bart-chan. "It's very comfortable."
Selma paused from nourishing Ling with a bottle of milk, and looked around the field. "What happened to the monks?" she wondered.
The Shaolin men had departed, leaving the American visitors to their own devices.
"Stupid tourists," said one monk to another as they trudged through the bushes. "They never listen."
"Maybe we should put up warning sign," suggested the other monk.
"We tried that," said the first monk. "It did not work."
A few hundred yards from their position lay an abandoned, rusting metal signpost bearing the message, SPRING VERY BAD IN FALL.
Marge and Homer led the way into the bamboo forest and toward the city, with Selma, Bart-chan, and Lisa-kun in tow. "Not so fast!" panted Bart-chan, pumping her little legs frantically.
Homer turned and smiled condescendingly. "Somebody wants a piggyback ride," he gushed, holding his arms out to the girl.
"No way, Homer," said Bart-chan, folding her arms and scowling. "I gave those up when I was seven."
"We'll get to the hotel faster if you let him carry you," Lisa-kun prodded her.
"Eat my shorts," Bart-chan retorted.
"I'm wearing your shorts."
"You can ride on my shoulders, Bart," offered Marge.
"Forget it," said Bart-chan. "I don't want to look like a sissy."
"You're a girl," Lisa-kun pointed out. "It's okay to look helpless."
At last Bart-chan sighed with resignation, and stepped into her father's waiting hands. She had never known a more embarrassing sensation than being a girl and riding on Homer's shoulders. Sadly she watched as a flock of songbirds soared over their heads. Every one of the birds seemed to be chanting, "Haw-haw!"
They spent most of the fifteen-minute walk in unhappy silence. At one point Lisa-kun remarked to his brother-turned-sister, "I can't believe you passed up a chance to lie your way into heaven."
Bart-chan shrugged. "God would've figured it out eventually."
"Then you would have gone to hell as a girl," Lisa-kun mused.
"That's, like, hell squared," said Bart-chan with an involuntary giggle.
"You should be a gentleman and let me take the first shower," Bart-chan insisted.
"I'm a lady," Lisa-kun disagreed. "You're the one who should be a gentleman."
"Hurry up, kids," said Homer, "or we'll take you back to America the way you are." Next to him, Marge was sorting piles of fresh clothes from a suitcase for her children to wear.
"I'm younger than you," Bart-chan argued. "I should go first."
"Fine," said Lisa-kun peevishly.
The little Chinese girl rushed into the bathroom. There was a brief sound of sprinkling water, and then the door opened to reveal Bart with a towel wrapped around his waist and a pleased grin wrapped around his head.
"It worked," announced the dripping-wet boy. "I have all my parts again."
"Look at us," Lisa-kun marveled. "We're like twins. We could go on a double date with Sherri and Terri."
"I don't know how much hot water's left," said Bart, prompting Lisa-kun to hop quickly into the bathroom and slam the door.
After waiting an hour for their long-delayed flight, Selma, Ling, and the Simpsons family boarded the jet and became airborne. Bart and Lisa, having mostly forgotten their strange experience in the Chinese forest, entertained themselves with various antics.
"Hey, Lis," said Bart, holding a motion sickness bag up to his face, "Wendell taught me how to barf on cue. Wanna see?"
"No, thank you," said Lisa disinterestedly.
"You said cue!" said Bart with glee. The cabin of the aircraft was suddenly filled with a stomach-churning, albeit fake, retching sound.
"You're disgusting, Bart," said Lisa, narrowing her eyes haughtily.
Moments later a young Chinese woman in a flight attendant uniform pushed a cart up to their row. "What can I get you to drink?" she asked in a polite, heavily accented voice.
Bart cast Lisa a sneaky glance from the corner of his eye. "I'll have a cup of water," he requested. "Make sure there's plenty of ice."
There was plenty of ice in Lisa's glare.
"Wait, scratch that," said Bart, his conscience bettering him. "I'll have a Sierra Mist instead."
"Make that two," Lisa chimed in.
The smiling young woman served them iced drinks and moved on. Lisa sat quietly, staring at the cup on the tray, while Bart downed his beverage in one gulp and wiped his mouth with his arm.
"That really hit the spot," he commented.
"So will this," said Lisa sinisterly.
Picking up her soda, she raised it above her brother's head and turned it upside down.
"HEY!" protested Bart as the cold drink soaked his hair, face, and shirt. As he shook his head and sputtered, he sensed a horrible transformation within his body. The seat back in front of him appeared to grow larger as his torso contracted. His legs shortened until he could no longer dangle them. Long black hair materialized and descended over his shoulders and arms.
"NOOOO!" he screamed girlishly.
"It looks like we're taking two little Chinese girls home with us," Lisa joked.
"I thought it had to be water," said Bart-chan dolefully.
"What did you think soda pop was made of?" said Lisa.
Bart-chan reached down and unhooked her seat belt, which had become too loose. Grumbling and cursing, she jumped down and marched toward the lavatories in the rear of the aircraft. To her disappointment, both were occupied. The same flight attendant who had served her drink was there, and attempted to speak to her in gushing Mandarin.
"I don't speak Chinese," Bart-chan informed her.
"You're such an adorable little girl," said the attendant sweetly.
"I don't speak English either," said Bart-chan.
Anxious to resume her boy form, she made her way to the plane's front section, where she was halted by another attendant, this one a Chinese man. "I'm sorry, but these lavatories are only for first-class passengers," he said, squatting down. "Now hurry back to your mommy and daddy."
An idea occurred to Bart-chan. An appalling idea, but one that might work.
"But I really, really have to go," she whined, sticking one hand over her crotch as she held up her shorts with the other.
"All right, then," said the attendant, carefully herding her into one of the lavatories.
After locking the door, Bart-chan stretched her tiny arms over the counter and strained to reach the hot water spigot. She pressed the lever with one hand and let the water flow over the fingers of her other hand. It was only slightly warm. While she waited for it to heat up, she had a chance to gaze into the mirror and become more familiar with her new Asian face and stringy black hair. I look like one of those stewardesses, she thought.
The water's temperature increased, but not by much. She scooped up a palmful of the lukewarm fluid and sprinkled it over her head. Nothing happened, except that she became wetter, and her shorts fell to the floor again. Damn, it's not hot enough. I guess I'm stuck like this for the rest of the flight.
As she retracted her arms, she realized that her lie to the attendant hadn't been a lie - she really, really needed to go. That drowned girl must have had the world's smallest bladder, she thought bitterly. The scent of coffee began to waft into the lavatory. Coffee? Oh, man, that smell only makes me have to go worse... She had only minutes to find hot water, or else she would have to do something distasteful.
Coffee! That's it!
Scurrying out of the washroom, Bart-chan found the male attendant standing in front of a small stove. Coffee was brewing in a metal pot atop one of the elements.
"Stop!" cried the attendant. "Don't touch that!"
Too late. Bart-chan yanked the coffeepot by its handle, overturned it, and unloaded its contents over her little body. It was hot enough indeed. Scaldingly hot.
"AAAARGH..."
The horrified attendant watched a ten-year-old boy with reddened skin writhe in pain and drip coffee at his feet.
He stepped quickly into the aisle and faced the first-class passengers. "Is there a doctor on the plane?" he shouted.
to be continued
