Mr. Choy had just finished the fourth can of his six-packs. With a pair of slightly drunken and sober eyes, he gazed at the water below him, which felt cool but looked warm under the afternoon sun. The weather was normal and memorable enough for me to kill myself, he thought. He summoned perhaps the last breath in his life and stood up. Half of his body was already embracing the breeze blowing against his unbuttoned shirt he used to wear for his class, the other half was still hesitating on the Tsing Ma Bridge. He looked back to check how far the police was away from him, but was not surprised to see them only starting to block the bridge. He decided to plunge before they sent a negotiator forward to annoy him. Before he turned back to seize the last moment in his life, someone was walking towards him from a distance.

“Back off! I don’t need a negotiator,” Mr. Choy yelled.

“What?”

“I said ‘Back off! Back off! Back the hell off! Negotiators are nuisance to the world!” Mr. Choy screamed at the top of his lungs.

“McDonald Suk Suk is not a negotiator. I came here to join you,” the person shouted back. He neared Mr. Choy and was finally close enough to reveal himself by sight. He was wearing a red wig, heavy make-up, an iconic yellow uniform with white stripes and a pair of red leather boots.

“Oh! Give me a break. Are you kidding me?” Mr. Choy sighed.

“What?”

“When on earth has McDonald Suk Suk started working for the police?”

“McDonald Suk Suk doesn’t work for them. They’re here also after me, not just you.” Having said this, the clown sat down next to Mr. Choy, who was still standing and bellowing hysterically.

“No, no, no. Wait. You can’t sit here. I was just about to jump down any moment. You can’t come here and ruin my plans. Go back to your kids. I don’t need you, they do.”

“Oh, you think only you can kill yourself and McDonald Suk Suk can’t?”

“Stop kidding me, would you? McDonald Suk Suk killing himself by jumping off from the Tsing Ma Bridge? What’s it all about? Are you guys shooting a TV commercial for the new burger or playing a practical joke on normal people like me?”

“McDonald Suk Suk is a normal person. I was and I wasn’t. I come here to kill myself as well. I didn’t expect there’s already a fool here ruining my plan.”

“What the hell are you talking about? What fool? Who came here first? Who’s ruining whose plan? Who the…”

“Stop talking and sit down!”

Mr. Choy was flabbergasted and didn’t move. 

“McDonald Suk Suk ordered you to sit down, so sit!”

The teacher finally sat down accordingly next to the clown on the edge of Tsing Ma Bridge. The police was saying something on the amplifier, but they couldn’t hear a word. They had shut their ears merely for each other.

“Oh! You have beer with you. Do you mind?” the clown asked.

“So you really came to here to die?”

“McDonald Suk Suk doesn’t lie.”

“O.K. Whatever. We’re on the same line. I drank four cans before you came.”

“Thanks. How nice! McDonald Suk Suk always likes the sound of opening a can of beer or soda. It’s the most peaceful sound in the world.” The clown downed half of a can without stopping.

“I have never seen a McDonald Suk Suk drink beer. I feel strange now.”

“So, tell me. Why are you here?” the clown inquired.

“Oh, come on. It’s so cliché. Are we doing confession in the last minute?”

“McDonald Suk Suk asked a question and you should answer. Good kids always answer a nice question asked by a nice person. Come and think about it. I may be the last person you ever talk to in your life. Tell your sob story before you die. Isn’t it already a point?”

“Screw the kids.” Mr. Choy released a sigh and looked into the open air, so invisible but somehow compelling at the moment of truth.

“Don’t say such words. Kids are nice! They always smile. McDonald Suk Suk works for the kids.”

“They’re so nice that you can sleep with them.”

The clown nearly choked on his beer, “Pardon me?”

“I slept with one of my students. That’s why I’m here now.” Mr. Choy still gazed at the air as if it was gazing back at him. “Everything started six months ago. Yes, she smiled a lot. She wasn’t the prettiest girl in school, but she had the eyes and the youth. I didn’t know what I was doing. The fascination entirely captured me. I thought it’s just a one-off fling that you could leave behind afterwards. It wasn’t. Things got out of control and she reported the case to the police. I was on the paper, I was fired and I was divorced.”

“McDonald Suk Suk thinks it’s quite sad, but romantic. I wish I had a teacher I could have a crash with in my school days.”

“It’s hardly a romance. It’s a tragedy, can’t you see? My wife decided to divorce me. You should be using your brain in school, not your dick, she said. Last night, She changed the lock of our home and I couldn’t get in. I thought when there’s a home, there’s always a way. It’s not true to me anymore. My hands were trembling with the keys that led me to nowhere. I was crying and pounding on the gate, pledging her to let me in. She didn’t open the door. The home was silent. I was at the door, but I felt so distant.”

“You look very calm now though,” the clown commented.

“What can I do now? I lost my job, my family and reputation. I’ve cried enough. One shouldn’t cry when one dies. It doesn’t sound heroic. I should laugh.”

The clown nodded and finished the rest of his beer.

“Thanks. McDonald Suk Suk likes beer. I used to drink a pint or two after work during happy hours before I took up the job of being McDonald Suk Suk.”

“So who are you actually? It’s my turn to listen to your sob story.”

“I’m McDonald Suk Suk!” The clown pointed his thumbs at himself as if he was welcoming some children at a birthday party in McDonald’s.

“No. I mean who are you? When did you start being McDonald Suk Suk?”

“Everything happened in 1997 and many things changed. Hong Kong changed. My life changed. Maybe I should show you my ID, then you’ll know what I’m talking about.”

The clown searched in his pocket for his wallet, which was stuffed with McDonald’s food coupons. He handed the ID to the teacher. Mr. Choy looked at it and his mouth was wide-opened.

“For Christ sake, you look exactly like Tung Chee-hwa.”

“Yeah, I know. Someone may want to look like a movie star or singer, but I bet nobody wants to look like our former chief executive.”

“Bloody hell! I can’t believe it.”

“Me neither. After 1997, my life changed. I couldn’t go out at all because people mistook me as him and they asked me all sorts of weird questions in the streets. The company I was working for fired me because I couldn’t go out to meet my clients. Then my friend working for a talent agency got me this job. I needed it so badly. I didn’t even have the money to feed myself. But McDonald’s set one condition on my contract.”

“What’s that?”

“They said I have to be McDonald Suk Suk 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. I couldn’t remove my make-up except my shower time. If I let others see my real face, nobody would probably come to McDonald’s anymore, then the business of the whole enterprise will be in danger. It’s all about the image.”

“This is insane.”

“It really is, but what can I do? I look exactly like him. I needed a job that could put me in disguise. You said you cried at the door all night long. McDonald Suk Suk doesn’t even have a home. The company is worried that I would be seen without the makeup. It rents a remote flat in the New Territories and I even have a driver to pick me up every day after work. I can’t go out on my own. I am locked inside it after my working hours. I miss my real home too.”

“So where is your home?” the teacher asked.

“My home is what I am! I grow up in this place, with this place. I love it. But my face fucks me up! Now I can’t even tell who I am! I live in Hong Kong but I don’t feel like I’m home at all. My bed isn’t the same bed I used to sleep in. My life isn’t the same one I used to live. I can’t tolerate anymore. I’d better die than living with an old Tung’s face.”

“I remember he proposed a lot of education reforms, you know the mother tongue thing? We had a lot of meetings every week and everybody in school went crazy. One of my colleagues killed himself because he could not stand the pressure.”

“How did he die?”

“He bought some charcoals home, closed the windows and started a fire. He fell asleep and never woke up.”

“That’s more peaceful.”

“Yes. At least he could die at home. Dying at home is always more dignified than in somewhere else. Everybody kills themselves for a reason. Others just need to know it, not to understand it.”

“So, tell me. Why did you choose to jump off from here?” the clown asked.

“Believe me or not, I thought of jumping into the MTR rails, but they have screen doors almost in every station now, so I gave up the idea. Then I walked from Tung Chung to here and bought a six-pack on my way at 7-11. How about you?”

“I chose this place for a reason. They had magnificent fireworks on this bridge during the handover. The best fireworks I’ve seen in my life. I hope my death here would play a little irony on old Tung in Hong Kong history. The 85,000 housing policy, the Article 23. Stupidity simply lasts forever.”

“Perhaps.” Mr. Choy hissed.

McDonald Suk Suk looked at the last can of beer. “Can I have it?” he asked.

“Of course, don’t waste it. Nothing can be more enjoyable than finding someone to die with you. But save the last bit for me. I don’t want to die with a conscious mind.”

The bridge was finally free of cars. Empty lanes were lurking there quietly to intensify the suspense. Policemen, firemen and paramedics were on stand-by mode. Reporters from different newsagents kept pressing the buttons on their cameras even though there was not much drama happening on the spot. McDonald Suk Suk opened the last can to make a sound that marked the existence of himself and his suicide buddy.

“What’s your name by the way?” the clown asked the teacher.

“It’s on today’s papers and I guess it will again on tomorrow’s.”

“I bet,” the clown whispered, handing the beer to the teacher. A whirl of cold air blew the five empty cans off from the bridge. Both of them were waiting to see and hear the splash when they hit the water surface, but the scene was less theatrical than they thought. 

Nicholas Y.B. Wong