Dear Reader, if you do not know Chinese, this note is meant to help you make sense of the next chapter starring the “Measure-word Vampire.”
Chinese (also Japanese, Korean, and Vietnamese) have a grammatical category called “measure words” or “classifiers.”
The concept of the measure word is similar to words in English that show a quantity. So a spoon of sugar, a cup of tea, a load of bricks etc.
The difference in Chinese is that every noun in Chinese has a measure word, even ideas and gases! So in Chinese you cannot just say “three eggs” or “five problems.” You must say “three / measure word / eggs” and “five / measure word / problems.”
Although there are about 20 common measure words that cover most categories of nouns, there are actually dozens and dozens of measure words. You will see many of these measure words if you glance at the illustrations as you read through the chapter.
Regarding the Measure-word Vampire, his persona is based on “The Count” from Sesame Street. Just as The Count joyously counts everything, so does Ben Daniels, who everybody refers to as “Measure-word Vampire.”
By the way, if you shorten “Ben Daniels” to “Ben Dan,” it sounds like stupid egg or idiot.
Hopefully this minimal information informs you enough to appreciate this next chapter.
The Measure-word Vampire had gotten the key to his new apartment near the college campus. He was waiting for the moving company to bring his things.
Of course, he wasn’t really a vampire. His real name was Ben Daniels, and he is one of the authors of this novel you are reading. Most people would not notice, but if you shorten his name to “Ben Dan,” and pronounce it as English “Bun Don,” it sounds the same as “Stupid Egg” or “idiot.
Why the nickname Measure-word Vampire? Pretty simple really. As a child Ben was addicted to Sesame Street, and his favorite character was The Count. The Count was not a bloodsucking vampire murderer. Rather he was an avuncular, child-safe muppet who spent all of his Sesame Street episodes counting and chuckling. You name it, The Count counted sheep, soup cans, stars, anything that could be counted, and had a good time doing it, ha ha ha!
Already a Count afficionado, when Ben started taking Chinese in high school, he was introduced to the Chinese grammatical category of “measure words.” His Chinese teacher had explained that the term “measure word” was inaccurate, and and that a more accurate term was “classifier.”
Once Ben had been introduced to measure words, he made it a game. He would memorize the measure words for each category, and ramble off sequences of nouns. Instead of being annoyed, most of his classmates found this bizarre counting habit endearing. Ben had bought a “measure word” dictionary and had memorized most of it. If anybody had a doubt as to which measure word to use, Ben knew it, so they would just ask him. One of their favorites was his oral presentation the “Twelve Days of Christmas:”
Finally the doorbell rang.
“Who is it?” called Ben.
“Two Gay Guys and a Truck. We’re here to move your furniture.”
Ben opened the door. Two muscular, middle-aged men in tight shirts and short shorts stood at the door. Sweat dripped down their bodies, making their muscles glisten.
“You must be the Measure-word Vampire,” said the taller one. “I’m Don, and this here’s Juan. Thank you for choosing Two Gay Guys and a Truck. We’re here to serve you.”
“How did you know my nickname?” asked Ben.
“That girl across the hall, said her name is Sushi. She said you lived here. Said you are obsessed with counting things in Chinese. That everybody calls you Measure-word Vampire.”
“Sushi? Oh, you mean Su Xi. She lives across the hall?”
“Yeah,” said Don. “She said she the manager turned off her water because she didn’t pay the water bill. Anyway, can we start? We have some more jobs after your apartment.”
“May I count things as you move them in?”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” said Don. “After all, you are the Measure-word Vampire. C’mon, Juan. Let’s get ‘er done!”
As Don and Juan started to move the furniture into the living room, the Measure-word Vampire began to count: “one sofa, one coffee table, two lamps, and a bookshelf. Ha ha ha!”
Next was the kitchen. The kitchen already had a refrigerator and stove, so Don and Juan only brought in three boxes.
“These big boxes are pretty heavy,” said Don, what’s in ‘em, vats of blood?”
“I’m not a real vampire you know,” said the Measure-word Vampire.. I just count measure-words. But since you asked, the first box has ten plates, ten bowls, ten coffee cups, and ten saucers: a serving set, ha ha ha! The second box has a fruit juice blender, one big wok and one small one, a soup pot, and a rice cooker. Ha ha ha.”
“Oh, a rice-cooker,” said Juan.
“I was starting to think you didn’t talk,” said the Measure-word Vampire.
“Well,” said Juan. “I don’t talk much, but I like kitchen stuff. And rice cookers. Essential for a kitchen in my opinion.”
Then they opened the third box. It contained a skeleton.
“Dammit,” said Don, “This is the skeleton that Mrs. Jones said was supposed to go in her closet. We’ve been looking everywhere for this. Tell you what, Measure-word Vampire, looks like we mixed up her box with your box. But don’t worry, after we move in your other stuff, we’ll get your other box and take this skeleton to Mrs. Jones. She was pretty uptight about the skeleton, and she ended up with some kitchen stuff she didn’t recognize.”
“You mean the box with my set of silverware, ten forks, ten knives, ten teaspoons, and ten soup spoons?”
“Yes, that box.”
“It also has a cutting board, ten steak knives, a vegetable knife and a meat cleaver. Not to mention a butter dish and a coffee pot.”
“Ha ha ha,” the three laughed in unison.
The dining room was next.
“Sorry to disappoint you Measure-word Vampire, but not much to count here, just one antique dining table,” said Don.
“This was my parents’ dining table,” said the Measure-word Vampire. “And don’t forget the four chairs. One chair, two chairs, three chairs, four chairs.”
“This Measure-word stuff is kind of addictive,” said Juan.
Next was the bedroom.
“Oh, I like bedrooms,” said Don.
“Just smashing,” said Juan. “It’s going to look great once we arrange the coffin.”
“Ha ha ha,” said the Measure-word Vampire. “Vampire jokes kill me. One vampire joke, two vampire jokes, three vampire jokes, ha ha ha.”
As they put the furniture in place, Don and Juan sweated a little more. Of course there were no coffins, since the Measure-word Vampire wasn’t really a vampire, but he did have “one double-bed, one small table, one lamp, a small sofa, a chest-of-drawers, and a flat panel TV, ha ha ha.” Not to mention a few boxes of clothes that the Measure-word Vampire unpacked after Don and Juan left, which contained “four pairs of jeans, two pairs of slacks, a bunch of tee-shirts, several dress shirts, five pairs of shoes, various pairs of socks and underwear, and a black cape.”
“Just one bedroom, that basically leaves the study,” said Don. “This is going to be a quickie.”
The main item for the study was “one desk with four drawers, ha ha ha. One small desktop computer with a keyboard, mouse, and monitor, and a chair, ha ha ha.”
Finally, the various pictures for each room. For the living room, a portrait of Confucius. For the dining nook, a calligraphy scroll of the character “tea.” For the bedroom a postmodern something or other that looked like a black coil against a white background. For the study, a portrait of some hallucinogenic mushrooms that the Measure-word Vampire had inherited from his father. “All together four paintings,” laughed the Measure-word Vampire, “ha ha ha.”
“Are those magic mushrooms?” asked Juan. He gazed at the painting in admiration.
“I’m afraid so,” said the Measure-word Vampire.
They all stood looking at the painting, then Don gasped and said, “Well, this was an easy trip, but we need to move on to our next job.”
“Wait,” said the Measure-word Vampire, “you need to see the shower curtain I bought for the bathroom.” The Measure-word Vampire started to unpack the last box in the bathroom marked “miscellaneous stuff to be unpacked at this moment of chapter two.”
“Isn’t that a little gay?” said Juan. “Showing a shower curtain to two gay guys?”
“Well, maybe,” said the Measure-word Vampire, but it’s a special Chinese character shower curtain, just wait, you’ll see.”
As he pulled the shower curtain out of the box, three bars of soap fell onto the floor.
“Oh, let me pick those up for you,” said Don.
“Three bars of soap,” said Juan as Don bent over to pick up the soap, “Ha ha ha.”
“One stereotypical gay joke told and acted out by two gay guys,” said the Measure-word Vampire.
“Who says we’re gay?”
“Ha ha ha.” They all laughed in unison.
The Measure-word Vampire unfolded the shower curtain and held it up.
It was a white curtain, printed with a Chinese character pattern. The entire curtain was a pastiche of common Chinese Measure-words with their associated Chinese nouns.
“It’s purdy,” said Don, “but I can’t read Chinese.
Juan cleared his throat, then began to recite from the top left portion of the shower curtain: “One person, two tables, three pieces of paper, four maids a’milking …”
“Not much use for maidens in my opinion,” said Don. “But when the hell did you learn to read Chinese, Juan? Have you been sneaking around behind my back?”
“I bought a copy of Basic Chinese Characters at Amazon. It’s awesome!” said Juan.
“Amazon?” said the Measure-word Vampire. “That’s where I got this shower curtain.”
“Amazon is awesome,” they all said in unison then stood staring at the shower curtain, each of them imagining their own showering paradises.
Don, Juan, and the Measure-word Vampire all sat on the sofa in the living room as the Measure-word Vampire made out the check to Two Gay Guys and a Truck.
“I really appreciate your help. I was able to practice counting things while you guys did all the work.”
“Thanks Measure-word Vampire. We’d like to sit and talk, but we need to get to our next job, and we also need to take Mrs. Jones her skeleton and get your box back. And please recommend us to your friends.”
“No problem. If you don’t mind my asking, why does Mrs. Jones keep a skeleton in her closet?”
“Well, her husband was a doctor, orthopedic surgeon I think. And he always kept a skeleton in the closet. Then he died, which is why she moved into an apartment, and she got rid of most of her stuff, but she couldn’t part with the skeleton. At least that’s what she told us. For all we know maybe it’s her husband.”
“Sounds creepy to me, and I’m a make-believe vampire.”
“Anyway, later dude.”
“Later dudes.”
After they left, Ben Daniels sat alone in the living room on the sofa. He hadn’t helped move, but he was tired. He decided to try to sleep on the couch and began to count sheep.
“One sheep, two sheep, three sheep, …”
Before he counted to four, he was already asleep. But he was only asleep a few seconds when the sheep in his dreams brayed, waking him up again, “Baa baa baa,” said the four sheep in unison.
Finally Ben drifted off to sleep again, dreaming of his precious shower curtain.
