ghengi.
© 2003 Jamie Zawinski <jwz@jwz.org>


I was at a sandwich shop the other day, doing the obvious thing. The middle-aged asian woman behind the counter took my order, started making the sandwich, and then halfway through, stopped and asked me in a very thick accent, ``Excuse me, do you know who is ______?''

Wait. Did she really just say Ghengis Khan? I steal a glance at my t-shirt: am I obliviously wearing a picture of a rapacious Mongol? No, no I'm not. I ask, ``Um.... you mean the Mongolian conqueror?'' Even as I say it, I really can't believe that's right. Or maybe she's talking about a band or something.

She says, ``those guys didn't know him,'' pointing at a pair of older asian fellows sitting at a table having lunch who seem to be totally ignoring us.

I nod knowingly. I'm dying to know how this came up, but I'd already waited too long to eat, and my world had gone all surreal even before Ghengis came into it, so I just let it go.


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