Denver Bar Association
February 2003
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Shaken, Not Stirred

by David Erickson

 
A glass of wine, an easy chair and James

James Bond made his way to Fukuoka, in southern Japan, cleverly disguised as a deaf and dumb miner from the north. In Fukuoka, dressed in a black ninja suit, he secretly entered the dungeon under the formidable black Castle of Death, located on a peninsula jutting into the sea. His mission was to kill the infamous Ernst Stavro Blofeld, alias Dr. Shatterhand, the evil purveyor of death! Upon Bond’s inevitable discovery, he fought with the personal guards of Blofeld, and then, seizing a stave partially concealed by curtains, he bashed the head of the fat and ugly witch, Irma Bunt, before she could summon further help. With the stave as his only weapon, he then fought the final, terrible battle with his archenemy, Blofeld, who unfairly wielded a large and razor sharp Samurai sword.

"David," my wife interrupted, "remember, I have book club tonight and will be home late."

"Have a good one," I said, as she left the house.

It was a perfect ending. After a terrible fight, Bond strangled Blofeld on the floor of the great hall. He then returned to the dungeon, and opened the valve to the 1000-degree mud geyser, on which the castle was built, and escaped to the rooftop before it was destroyed by the unleashed inferno.

On the rooftop, he cut the line to the large balloon, tethered to the ramparts, and safely floated away from the Castle of Death. Guards in pursuit, however, were able to shoot down the balloon and the tremendous fall to the sea knocked Bond unconscious. Near death, he was rescued by the tall and beautiful Kissy Suzuki, a member of the Ama tribe, who, upon seeing him fall, swam to his rescue against strong ocean currents.

Because of the impact of the fall, Bond remembered nothing of his past life, and with the help and care of Kissy, began life anew, as Taro Todoroki, a simple diver for awabis shells. They lived happily, with other members of her tribe, on a small island off the coast.

I put the book down, had a sip of merlot, smiled contentedly, and contemplated the remaining delicious novels stacked, unread, next to my chair.


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