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The Explorers’ Club
The members of the Explorers’ Club gathered at
their meeting house one evening to find Sir
Ferdinand Feghoot sipping a brandy while leaning
gingerly against the fireplace mantel.
“Ferdinand, old boy,” shouted Sir Roger, “Back so
soon from the Peoples’ Republic? Sit down and tell
us all about it.”
Sir Ferdinand grimaced. “I’d rather NOT sit down,
Roggie old boy. But, yes, my mission to China was
a success. Not to China, rather, but to old Tibet, the
roof of the world, shamelessly annexed by the Red
Chinese.”
heads, each armed with a mystical weapon that
produces very real physical damage.”
“No wonder this monk fellow asked for your
assistance,” said Sir Edmund, “You’re well known
as an accomplished exorcist. Do sit down and
elaborate.”
Once again, Feghoot demurred. “I’ll not be sitting
down for quite a while, I’m afraid. But I rushed to
the temple, armed with holy water, and a nasty
three-sided dagger called a ‘purba’ that can pierce
ghostly flesh.”
“How exciting,” whispered Sir Oscar.
“What brought you to such a cold, inhospitable
place,” asked Sir Thomas. “Searching for ancient
Buddhist Sutras? Or perhaps on the trail of the
Abominable Snowman?”
“They’re called Yetis, these days, Tommie,” replied
Ferdinand, “But, no, I was invited to help exorcize
an abandoned Buddhist temple. My friend Lama
Mipham was allowed to restore a long unused
temple by the Chinese government. Not for
worship, you understand, but as a museum to
further extol the glories of the People’s Republic.
Lama Mipham felt that even for his people merely
to have access to the art and architectural treasures
stored therein would help prevent the further loss
of their traditions.
“But imagine his surprise, as he began clearing the
temple, at being physically attacked!”
“By brigands?” asked Sir Rupert, “Temple robbers,
prying loose rubies as big as your fist, that were
used as third-eye ornaments in enormous idols?”
“Lama Mipham is an expert martial artist,”
Feghoot explained. “He could deal with common
criminals. No, he was attacked by supernatural
defenders of the faith. Dakinis.”
“No sooner did Lama Mipham and I enter the
temple, than a huge, lion-headed, dark green Dakini
with a head-chopping sword gave an ear-shattering
shriek. Lama Mipham splashed holy water on her,
and she vanished.
“Then a giantess, at least 12 feet tall, a red skinned
Dakini, hurled an arm-binding noose over us, but
as she drew us forward I stabbed her with the
‘purba,’ and she vanished.
“Next, a hugely obese dakini, blue-black with
flames coming out of every pore hurled a
shoulder-piercing trident at Lama Mipham, but he
ducked, and countered by chanting the weapon
mantra, ‘PHAT!’ and she vanished.”
“Insulted, I should guess,” chuckled Sir Bernard.
“Well, to make a long story shorter,” concluded Sir
Ferdinand, “There were dozens of dakinis, but
Lama Mipham and I vanquished every one of
them, although one of diminutive size (no bigger
than my thumb) and saffron hue managed to avoid
my attention and wounded me in an embarrassing
part of my anatomy.”
Sir Harold gasped. “You mean...”
“Dakinis?” all the club members muttered in
disbelief.
Feghoot nodded. . . . “She was an itsy-bitsy,
teeny-weeny, yellow, poke-a-butt Dakini.”
“Yes. It means ‘skywalker,’ you know. Ghostly
women, of all sizes, skin colors, some with animal
(By Adam E. Ek based on a character by Reginald Bretner)