THE WHEEL OF LIFE was wobbling as Mu Ling pushed his mortal trolley through the aisles of Infinity Superstores plc. He heard his Master’s voice echoing from within a freezer of frozen vegetables and discovered the learned one thrashing about in the peas and sprouts in search of the half-drunk can of extra-strong lager that he swore he had left there to chill.

The eager student sought clarification and enquired as to the difference between half-drunk or half-sober.

“Young ‘un,” boomed the Master masterfully emerging from the frozen depths, shaking a sprout from his ear, “it is like the difference between left and right.”

“But Master,” Mu Ling was mewling, “both your hands are even now beating me!”

“And both are required to make you understand!”

“I understand! Honestly I understand!” cried Mu Ling just before losing consciousness.

At that moment, the Master of Wisdom spotted an old woman shoplifting and, realising that all the store detectives were closing in on her, swiftly slipped a cheesecake under his jacket and walked away.

Mu Ling caught up with him. “Master, is it true that crime does not pay?”

The Master shrugged. “Crime does not pay; but neither do too many jobs these days.”

The boy had a lot to learn. The Master of Wisdom recalled his previous pupil, Mysterious Lee, who had been caught shoplifting; the Master was furious and had not allowed him to go out again until he had improved his technique.

“Master, is money important?”

Boy, he had so much to learn. The Master of Wisdom decided to demonstrate and demanded the £20 note which was all that remained of Mu Ling’s earthly giro. Mu Ling gasped as the Master tore it in half, laughing loudly, “This is what I think of money!”

As the pair passed by shelf after shelf, Mu Ling presented a dejected figure, whilst his Master presented an increasingly bulky, misshapen, yet strangely satisfied figure. they scorned the anouncements of special offers; everything was special to the Master of Wisdom; especially liquids.

“Another question, Wise One. Our eyes may be dazzled by diversity. How can we be sure that we choose what is good?”

The Master was patient. “Always remember to obtain a receipt so that goods may be exhanged.”

“And Master,” Mu Ling was pushing his luck further than his trolley. “What course would you recommend when we finally approach, as approach we surely must, the Great Checkout in the Sky?”

The Master drank deeply of ancient knowledge and vintage port. “Join the shortest queue.”

Then without warning, the Wise One expelled all the bilious, treacherous devils in his all too human stomach straight into Mu Ling’s face and, whilst the dripping devotee excused himself and went in search of the Bathroom of Bathos, the Master of Wisdom visited the House of Spirits where he recharged his batteries with life-giving liquids in exchange for a sellotaped £20.00 note.

Mu Ling noticed that the door was ajar

THE MASTER OF Wisdom was well-known to the authorities as the foremost proponent of the twin techniques of thoughtlessness and mindlessness. Released into the community, he was often visited by an eager young student called Mu Ling who had inwardly digested a copy of Zen and the Art of Marketing and wished to impress the Master with his own spiritual progress.

Mu Ling entered the Temple of Timeless Moments and took the lift to the tenth floor. He approached the Gateless Gate and hammered hard on the Knocker of the Higher Being, ignoring the ignorant graffiti daubed on the Eternal Door.

There was no answer.

“If there is no answer,” thought Mu Ling, “it is because I am asking the wrong question.”

In fact, he was at the wrong door. Twenty mortal minutes later, Mu Ling had become sufficiently enlightened to progress down the Infinite Corridor to Number 37.

The door was ajar. The door was a jar? Mu Ling meditated upon this apparent linguistic impasse until he passed his entrance exam. The Master of Wisdom never locked the door. He had no fear of theft, since he was staying at his cousin’s flat.

Mu Ling glanced around the ransacked room. The Master lay in a very deep trance atop a mountain of ‘Special Brew’ cans, snoring with the deep, steady resonance of the ages.

Mu Ling could find no coffee in the Kitchen of the Gods and so he commenced the tea ceremony, intoning his personal mantra:

“Those little perforations. Oh, it’s those little perforations…”

The Master of Wisdom awoke and asked him to keep the fucking racket down.

“Anyway. What the hell time is it?”

“Ah!” replied Mu Ling, “it’s always later than you think!”

Mu Ling was well pleased with his wit and equally pleased with his agility which enabled him to dodge the lager can that flew towards him.

Whilst the Master of Wisdom tried to get back to the Sleep Whcih Refreshes The Parts Other Sleep Just Cannot Reac, Mu Ling explained his unexpected presence:

“O perfect Master, I dreamed I was a fish which was itself dreaming of being human. Was I truly dreaming of this fish or am I indeed the fish which is now dreaming? What do you think? Hmmm?”

The Master of Wisdom understood that actions speak louder than words; and so, without saying a word he seized Mu Ling and battered him.

Thus, did the Master of Wisdom create his Cod Zen.