Chapter Thirteen : Mopi

Once upon a time, when Hwang was a wee lad, he owned a stuffed bear. A stuffed bear named Mopi. It was the stereo-typical stuffed bear, too, with a little red scarf, button eyes, and a felt nose. And it was brown, with a lighter snout-type area.

Unfortunately for Hwang, Mopi happened to be possessed by an evil, evil ancient and terrible spirit. Oh dear.

So, unbeknownst to Hwang's parents, his stuffed bear Mopi actually did talk to him, albeit in a voice only heard by small children. So when they were all annoyed at him talking to his bear, they had no right because Mopi actually was talking.

"You should burn down your house," Mopi said one day, boredly.

"But isn't that bad, Mopi?" asked little Hwang, looking confused. "I mean, Mommy and Daddy are always saying that burning things is bad."

Mopi scoffed. "Fine, be a party-pooper. You're at the level of a toilet with a party-hat on. I hope you're happy."

"Oh, Mopi! You're so silly."

Mopi was silent.

"...Mopi? You okay?" Hwang asked after a minute.

"Yeah. Yeah, I am. I'm just horribly disappointed in you."

"Why, Mopi?"

"Because one day, people are going to walk all over you because you're so tolerant. I mean, you could've done a number of things to me after I said 'burn your house down', but you just left me alone and decided to call me silly." As an afterthought, Mopi said, "I hate you."

Hwang frowned. "But... But if I'm intolerant, won't that make be a bitter old man like that Seung guy down the street?"

"Intolerance is a blessing, kid. It means that you can choose to ignore the stupid people of the world and decide to screw that hot chick every now and then."

"...What's 'screw' mean?"

"You'll find out when you're older," Mopi said. He thought about this. "...Hopefully."

"Oh. Okay, Mopi."

If he could've moved, Mopi would have strangled the boy right then and there. Alas...he could not. "No, no, that's all wrong! You're supposed to say, 'DAMMIT, Mopi! Tell me what 'screw' means!' Like that, see? Makes people know that you mean what you say."

Hwang made a face. "But I don't want to come across as a mean person!"

"You have to be mean in order to survive nowadays, kiddo. Nothing comes easy in the sixteenth century. Especially not good living qualities. If you want to have a good home, you have to be mean and steal it."

"But... but..."

"'But, but'," Mopi mocked in a high-pitched voice. "Is that all that's in your vocabulary? God, it's like talking to a freakin' parrot."

"What's a parrot, Mopi?"

"It's a tropical bird from South America."

"...Where? South America?"

"YES, you dumbass. Is there an echo in here?"

"I didn't hear you, Mopi!" Hwang shouted, looking angry. He threw the bear across the room. "You're a horrible friend!"

"Hey! I didn't ask to be thrown!" Mopi said defiantly. "Get your scrawny butt back here, you little--"

His cries were heard no more as Hwang walked out of the room.

The moral of the story? Don't judge a book by its cover.

...Not much of a moral, is it?

THE END.