I watched “Bloodsport” this morning during breakfast among the things I noticed (other than the terrible acting and classic eighties music and montages) was the setting. I thought it incredible they filmed in Kowloon City. I’ll leave you to your own internet rabbit hole, but I had notes on it for research on another story I wanted to write.
This is not that story. I can’t be sure I’ll ever get around to writing “Deadfall“. But, in the meantime, I do have this.
Thank God no one heard the concession stand clerk welcome him back.
“Where’s your dad?” the brace-faced, freckled boy asked.
“Ha,” Michael replied. “Good one. I’ll just have some nibs and a large coke.”
“That’ll be three fifty.”
His stomach turned outside out and his guts turned to water when Geena asked if she could sit next to him so they could share.
“Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade,” the ticket taker said, tearing his ticket a little. “Theatre three.”
Last week, theatre three showed “Bloodsport” with Jean-Claude Van Damme and his dad’s reactions stuck with him until the end.
“Dad? Didn’t you like it?”
Ung Lieu, a man who would eventually work two full time jobs, eat the same meals for years on end, to make sure Michael went to art school, looked as though he would cry any moment said, “Kowloon city.” “
“What about it?”
Ung shook his head. “I didn’t think they could film there.”
“Did you live there?”
Ung nodded. “Delivered mail.”
“You delivered mail to the Kumite?”
Ung, turned to put his hand on Michael’s head, smiled and said. “Not exactly.”
Michael shared with Geena who shared with Bobby the whole time, laughing and giggling in the darkness about Indy complaining in a terrible Scottish accent about how he caught a sniffle. Mindy and Cindy joked behind them with Joe. Only Michael seemed to be watching the flick.
He walked ahead of the group, listening to the plans where to go next. The twins had their licenses and their own cars, no one needed a bus scheduled to get about and it wasn’t like they were little kids anymore that had to be home before the streetlights came on.
“Kumite!” He shouted, jump kicking open the door and holding it for the group.
Geena passed by, her hand over her mouth, followed by Bobby, who clapped him on the back.
“Thanks, String Bean,” he said. “You just did me a huge favour.”
“Have you seen Bloodsport?” Bobby started calling him Bean in the second grade.
“I’m starting to think I should.”