Ahh! Remittance man are ye?! I've heard tell of such sorts, though not seen hair nor hide of since breaking all housely mirrors.I am somewhat nonplussed about the obvious denigration and downplayment of other sorts of `gua'. We get a whole article about `xigua' but nothin bout `donggua'. Youse guys are clearly imperialist running dogs, get yer shit together. (Wait until I tellya bout `nangua' and its many uses.) I donno if there is a `beigua', but if ain't, should be invented.
Yes, old man. I recall my pater. The old progenitor took one look at my gambling debts in the city after my first term sent down from Cambridge. "You have beiguaed us my boy! Beiguaed! We shall die paupers!"" Then I was forced to resign from my club, sell both horses and hounds and live on the tiny remittance my people sent each quarter year to Hong Kong.
My main remitter, my great-Uncle Jezebel after the operation, wended his way down to Hong Kong, jus for to check upon, seein if I was alright and not using his money for ill. Unfortunately at his arrival I was absent, as I had made my way down to the Rusty Spitoon for some inebriation. My roommate, however, ushered Uncle Jezebel into the precincts graciously. My roommate was a watermelon,.. we got on like a house on fire and had a great affinity, though he/she/it/they were somewhat taciturn and greenishly balding. Who am I to judge? Together we were co-parenting Hairy Mary-Annes illigitimate son Nangua, as Miss Mary had been knocked up by some one night stand cucumber. So I cuddles Nangua gently in my hands and wends my weary way to the Spitoon. Outside, on the sidewalk table, sat the whole crew, eyes downcast, a fomentious mood apparent. Gino was twiddling his thumbs counter-clockwise (which he never did), Fair Mary head down on table, tears streaming in gushes and dripping on the floor, which Timmy was collecting in an teacup for to measure their relative salinity and alkalinity.
`What's wrong? I ghastly interlocuted. `Whom has died?
Mike lift his head from chest, looks me dead in the eye.
`Nali' he mutters. `Patio... ' he trails off into unmanly sobs.
Thunderstruck, I nearly dropped my dear Nangua, but gathering my wits I lightheadedly sat soothingly stroking Nangua, abating his fear and trembling.
Fortunately, just then, great-Uncle Jezebel arrived; acting on intelligence provided by Xigua, my roommate, he had tracked me down. Now he was a hail fellow well met kinda guy and wore aquamarine jodhpurs tailored on Saville Row. Ever since his Thailand operation he had acquired a new found admiration for pastels and an effervesence to match.
Soon under his spritely spirit, we all fell to gales of unsustainable laughter, till our guts hurt.
`Glad to see yer using my money wisely, my son' , he bemusedly spindled.