Let phase I of passive resistance commence. During the sermon I kept excusing myself to go to the bathroom. I must have done it at least five times. When it came time to kneel, I was the only one not kneeling. Phase II commenced during the hymn's. I belted them out with such vigor that it would probably be seen as divine inspiration. Drowning out everyone else's weak pathetic mumblings. Ulysses turned forty shades of red.

After the service the Pastor approached me and said, "With lungs like those, you would make a fine addition to our choir."

"I'm just an amateur really. I could never fit in with such an esteemed choir that you have here," I say. Ulysses had managed to slither away long ago.

"Don't be silly, won't you at least consider it?"

"Sure, I'll consider it," I reply and the Pastor goes off to talk to the other members of the congregation. Ulysses suddenly appears nearby.

"What was that all about? He gave you a good dressing down for your bad behavior?" Ulysses asks sternly.

"No, in fact he has asked me to join the choir," I say smugly.

"Why the sudden change of heart? I don't trust you, your up to something," he says suspiciously.

"Don't worry my dear Ulysses, I only have your best interests in mind. Why didn't you tell me your father was the Pastor?" I ask as if in revelation.

"How did you know?" he asks me with surprise.

"Well, I wasn't sure, you both with the same studly looks and all. But when you snuck away, I just assumed. Now you have confirmed my suspicions. Thanks."

"You clever boy, you," he says.

"Well, I don't want to be last in line for confession. Are you coming?"

"I can't, I'll just wait for you in the truck."

"Suit yourself, seeya later," I say and walk over to the confessional line. It's about ten minutes of boredom before phase III commences. I enter the room, close the door and sit down. The Pastor pulls back the dividing screen, but some thin netting keeps us from seeing each other and it is fairly dark.

"I am here to hear your sins my son."

"Perhaps you have met my goodly twin brother, the one that has such an inspirational voice?"

"Yes I have, such an angelic voice, but what does that have to do with your sins, my son?"

"Well, I wasn't convinced about coming, but he convinced me too. You see, I am the not so good half..."

"I see. Please tell me all and your sins will be forgiven."

"Well, I have another man for a lover. It's not just that I like to fuck him up the ass, but I like to have him cum in my throat and that isn't even the worst of it."

"This seems to be quite a common sin these days, perhaps the Days of Armageddon are coming. Have you tried to make love to a woman?"

"Yes I have, but when I try to put my cock in her it goes limp. I have no potency to carry my seed to her," I say trying my best to keep from laughing.

"Have you tried chastity?"

"Yes, but then I find that I masturbate even more than twice a day. In fact, I felt compelled to shoot my cum all the stall door in your holy bathroom."

"I do not think that you are ready for God's forgiveness. Perhaps when you have more strength, you will be ready for God's word. Go now," he says with finality and I leave.

I walk out to the truck where Ulysses has the engine idling. I jump in and keep silent.

"Well, what did he say to you?" Ulysses asks with curiosity.

"That is between your father and I. It was said in confession remember?"

"I know, can you just tell me how it went?" he asks pleading with me.

"He basically said I was beyond help."

"I could have told you that," Ulysses says mockingly.

"Don't worry, you didn't come into the conversation," I say trying to reassure him.

"I thought you said you were going to talk to him about me? Now that you know who he is..."

"All in good time. One must plant the seed before anything will grow and produce fruit," I say mightily.

"Now you sound like my daddy. I just can't understand you sometimes, it's like trying to understand the shape of water or something. Is there anything about you that is constant?" he asks puzzled.

"Only my affection for you my dear Ulysses."

"Well that's some comfort," he says somewhat relieved.

"If one is comfortable, what's the point of living? It’s the struggle after all that makes life worth living. A veteran should know that better than anyone," I say.

"I'll have to think about that one before I agree with you. Would you like to go somewhere to eat? I'm getting hungry," he says.

"I want to go to that new Chinese restaurant. The Peking Palace I believe it's called."

"I don't really like Chinese, how about the Barbecue Barn?"

"If you don't like my choice, then don't ask me where to go next time," I say with meanness.

"Fine, we'll go to the fucking Peking Palace. You are such an ungrateful brat, you know that?" he asks me in a pissed off fashion.

"Oh, an ungrateful brat so soon after Church? How will I ever bear it? And I know nothing of the kind. I may be a brat, but it is you who is ungrateful."

Ulysses stews in his seat all the way to the restaurant. He out to be well done by the time we get home. We pull in and there are a few people already parked. The building is unremarkable on the outside, but inside it is decorated with paper lanterns, bamboo wallpaper, and red booths. Decorating the empty spaces are healthy green ferns. We walk in and wait to be seated. A small Vietnamese woman comes over to us.

"Welcome to the Peking Palace, smoking or non-smoking?"

Before Ulysses can answer her I blurt out, "We'll take that table in the back corner, the one with the dim lighting."

"Oh, you must be mistaken, that is our ‘lover’s booth’," and she giggles like a young school girl.

"I am not mistaken, that is the table I want," I say.

"Very well then, please follow me," and she leads us over like we are going to get lost or something. She hands us two menus and asks, "Would you like anything to drink while you decide?"

"A beer for me, what would you like Mick?"

"Just water for me, thanks."

She walks away with our order and is probably thinking, what a cheap bastard.

"It's on me, you don't have to have water," Ulysses says.

"If I want overpriced, watered down drinks I'll go to a bar, thanks anyway."

"Do you have to ruin everything? Why can't you just go with the flow for once?"

"I em’ what I em’ and that is all that I em’."

"I am proud of you for sticking up for us to that maitre' de. I wouldn't have had the nerve to request this booth. Let's look at the menu shall we, and you can pick something out for me," he says with esteem for me.

A waitress comes over, a younger woman who is much taller than her mother. "Are you ready to order?" she asks Ulysses.

"I will order for us. I will have the kaoyazi and my lover here will have the chao qingcai zhurou, and we will both have a bowl of jidan tang and huo hu appetizer."

"That's very good Mandarin. I'll get right on your order."

"Xiexie," I say thanking her and she walks back to the kitchen with our order. No doubt her father is the chef.

"I didn't know you spoke Chinese?" Ulysses asks.

"Well, you don't get that many opportunities to speak Mandarin around here. There are hundreds of dialects, but Mandarin has been accepted as the national language," I say.

"Why didn't you just order by number like everyone else does"

"Because this way we will get the best service. Chinese are flattered when you use their native language, although she looks more Vietnamese than Chinese. We will get the best food they have to, carefully prepared for us. It's an honor for them to serve us the best after we have honored them by speaking their language," I say.

"I would never have expected you to believe in honor," Ulysses says surprised.

"You don’t know me very well then, because I am a very honorable person who likes that trait in others."

"Just when I think I have you figured out just a little, you go and change color on me. It makes me dizzy," he says laughing.

"I have to keep you on your toes don't I? Seriously though, while appearances may change, what is underneath does not. I hope you will always remember that."

"I’ll try..."

Our waitress carefully places the dishes in front of us being sure not to spill anything.

"I hope everything is adequate," she says.

"I'm sure that it will be more than adequate," I say smiling at what she has laid before us.

"Xiexie," and she walks back into the kitchen.

"I'm sure she has gone back to tell her father that we like what he has prepared for us very much. They take pride in pleasing others, that is why they will work for so little monetary compensation, I say.

"Shall we dig in?" Ulysses asks.

"Let's," and I roll my eyes at his chose of words.

I slice off a piece of duck and put it on Ulysses' plate and take some vegetables with pork from his plate and put it into my mouth with my chopsticks. He is using a fork and spoon.

"What are you doing?" Ulysses asks.

"Sharing my food with you. It's a traditional way to show that you care about someone. It's also intimate to eat from your lover's plate. It symbolizes a strong bond between two people when they eat from the same plate,"..I say winking at him.

"What is this?" Ulysses says pointing at the fire pot.

"It's a nice little touch. Go ahead and put your meat sticks on the grill. That way they will be done just the way you like them," I say and take an egg roll from the tray.

"I like the way they sizzle while I'm eating," Ulysses says after putting them on the grill.

"And to show that you really care about someone, you put food in their mouth," I say as I hold up the half eaten egg roll in front of his mouth with my chopsticks.

He takes a bite and swallows then says, "I guess it really shows that you trust someone when you are willing to let someone put food in your mouth," he says.

I take the rice bowl up to my mouth and start pushing the rice into my mouth. Then the soup bowl. Ulysses starts to frown.

"What are you doing now? Isn't it rude to eat straight from a bowl?"

"May be in England. Every culture has it’s own etiquette. Would you like me to eat one grain of rice at a time? Soup is impossible without doing so," I say.

"I always got smacked up side the head when I would drink anything from a bowl," he says while feeling the side of his head as if he had just been hit.

"If it is too painful for you, just use your spoon. It's funny, but one of my Japanese roommates was always complaining that I was too Japanese. I would complain that he was too American," I say laughing.

"Because of the way you ate?"

"No, because I was always calm and endospective and he was excitable and exospective."

"Endospective?"

"Always looking inside myself. Even if the world is hell, if your own house is in order you can survive it. Someone who is exospective always looks to organize the world, so they don't have to improve themselves," I say.

"I would have to say that I am exospective then. Especially when I was younger."

"Yeah, I think that people become more endospective as they age, but it is usually too little too late."

"Should we ask for the check?" Ulysses asks.

"Zhipiao!" and the waitress scrambles for our check.

"I hope everything was adequate?" she asks eager for an answer.

"I am not worthy of such a feast," I say to her.

As she leaves, I take a look at the bill. It's about thirty dollars, twenty less than it should be. I hand it to Ulysses and say, "Leave a twenty dollar tip."

"But why? It's already thirty dollars!"

"Because normally it would be fifty. We have to show that we appreciate their show of generosity," I say.

"Fifty dollars for one meal?"

"This isn't McDonalds you know. It takes a lot of work to make everything by hand. Besides wasn't this charming evening worth fifty dollars to you?" I say.

"I guess," Ulysses says grumbling. "At this rate we won't be able to go out that much."

"Why is it always quantity? Whatever happened to quality? I think dining out should be for special occasions that way the memory is even more intense. And what you have less of, you appreciate more," I say.

"And what special occasion were we celebrating? It's not even a holiday or anything," he says.

"You asked me why I have to ruin everything, what about you?" I say as I fiercely rip open my fortune cookie.

"God, I'm dumb, why didn't I see it?"

"Most people can't see what is right in front of their face. ‘Don't expect your new relationship to be logical or rational’. What does yours say?"

"Beware of the serpent that slithers between your thighs. What is that supposed to mean I wonder?" he asks.

"Perhaps it means that you should not let your snake guide you on your voyage through life," I say.

"I can trust you to answer one proverb with another. I think I understand what you are saying," he says.

"Shall we go? I have a story I want you to read. I wrote it while I was in college. It's sure to get you in the mood," I say with a grin.

"Is it funny like the last one I read?"

"I wouldn't say funny."

When we had plowed our way through another "white out" we went into the house and quickly shed all our cloths off, but our underwear. I went upstairs and dug out the story, the paper still white. I ran downstairs and presented the story to Ulysses.

"Is this it then? he asks.

"Yes, enjoy. I'm going to go downstairs and workout while you read it, seeya later," I say as I walk downstairs.