MUKBANG

The Boys in the Wa(e)ll

*Director’s Commentary Track:

I recently came across something called mukbang. The word itself is Korean, but my feed is mostly full of Chinese women eating hundreds of hard boiled eggs or centipedes or sheep heads. I don’t think there are any limits on what can be consumed. The mic usually picks up all the chewing and slurping in excruciating clarity. Apparently people use these as ASMRs. I never want to eat again. This story contains elements of mukbang as well as my favorite horror trope (boys living inside someone’s walls).

….weird formatting makes another guest appearance…

The story:

“There’s a boy in my wall.”

“God dammit!” came the response from his mother, taking the phrase his father had said for the past seven consecutive days.

“This shit has to end, Dylan!”

Just last night, Dylan woke her up around one in the morning to show her a video of a Chinese woman eating raw geoducks. It had scared him. He had never seen such horrific-looking creatures before. They looked like a word…Dylan wasn’t allowed to say. The Chinese woman bit into them, and water burst out of their bodies, hitting her in the face. It was so gross, but Dylan couldn’t stop watching, and he felt an urge to show his mother.

His mother grabbed his arm and yanked him out of her room, took him down the hall, and all but threw him onto his bed.

“But mom, I swear!” yelled Dylan.

“Enough! I can’t take it anymore. You’re driving me fucking crazy! I didn’t raise my son to be a goddamned racist!”

“But mom! There really is! There’s a Chinese boy inside my wall!”

“That’s it. You are grounded! No more Nintendo!”

His mom referred to all his various game consoles as Nintendo. She yanked the Xbox, still plugged into the wall, tearing the socket out along with a chunk of plaster. Dylan could have sworn he heard the little Chinese boy scuttling around inside there.

The seven-year-old called his mother a bitch under his breath and closed his eyes. No sooner had his eyes shut when emitting from the hole in the wall came:

“Wèi nǐ fúwù, nǐ zhège měiguó báichī. Méiyǒu shìhé nín de shìpín yóuxì.”

“AHHHHHHHHHHH” he screamed.

He was grounded for the next three weeks.

“Mom,” he said.

His mom picked up the pace. Dylan tried desperately to keep up with her long strides. Was she really never going to talk to me again? The way he had been taught growing up, once grounded, all was forgiven. He had done his time. As usual, Dad was taking her side.

“Mom,” he repeated.

He saw how she momentarily stopped, deciding whether to hear him out, but that soon passed, and she kept walking.

“Mom,” he said, this time ready to finish his thought. “Did you know thirty-five million Chinese people live in caves?”

“Goddammit, Dylan, enough.”

“I’m serious. They’re called yaodongs. Did you know China only has one time zone?”

“That’s it,” she said.

From then on, little Dylan was banned from visiting the public library. During his initial grounding phase, when video games and apps were taken away, the local library had become something of a haven for him. There were so many books about China that he didn't know where to start.

Until recently, Dylan had believed there were only two types of people on earth—white people and black people. It was only recently that he learned about different ethnic groups, such as Indians and Bengals and Filipinos and Latinos. Back then, he had just assumed they were either black or white, belonging to one group or the other. Learning about China and the Chinese was a game-changer for him. How could this place, more fanciful and stranger than Narnia or Middle-earth, actually be real?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Did you know the Chinese eat bugs?” Dylan had said.

“No, they don’t,” his mother had said.

“They do! I saw a video. I swear!”

“What did I say about lying, Dylan?”

“But they do!”

“The Chinese will literally eat anything.”

“Dylan! I’ve had it!”

“Mom, do you think if every single Chinese person on earth jumped at the exact same time, it’d be the end of the world?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the library, he read everything he could get his little paws on relating to China, its history, and its people.

Banning Dylan from visiting the library wasn’t enough. His mother took things a step further by joining the group Moms for Liberty. This group had already been active at Dylan’s school, banning books such as Of Mice and Men, The Color Purple, and To Kill a Mockingbird. Seeing as Dylan neither cared about mice, men, or mockingbirds, he couldn’t have cared less about these bans, but his mom’s involvement crossed the line.

Dad was getting drunk watching football at Buffalo Wild Wings, so Dylan was forced to attend the Town Hall Meeting with his mother. She was surrounded by those liberty mommy people who were always at the house that neither Dylan nor his father could stand. They were always angry about something and almost always angry at Dylan.

It was his mom’s turn to take the podium and speak.

"Good afternoon, y'all. For those who don't know me, I'm Caroline. For those who do know me, they probably know me best for my famous Peach Cobbler."

Several yelps of approval and confirmation came from the audience.

“But moreover, I’m a Godfearing Christian, a mother, and a patriot.”

There was sporadic applause and yelps of approval.

“I’m not a racist—”

Everyone was on edge, waiting for what would come next.

“We need to stop the Chinese.”

This was met with uproarious howls from the entire audience.

“Who the heck do they think they are, these Chinamen? Ruining my little boy’s life with sick ideas. For over a month now, he won’t stop talking about how Chinese people eat beetles or scorpions, or all other sorts of ungodly monstrosities, about Chinese babies not wearing diapers, space capsule homes, and the sick kid is convinced there are Chinamen living in our walls! He hasn't slept in months. I put forth a motion to get all books featuring China, Chinese people, Chinese history, traditions, or language to be pulled from our public schools immediately. I also put forth the motion to ban all talking points regarding the word China, full stop."

The applause was deafening.

The talking in the walls didn’t stop just because the school board banned China. Dylan heard the faint voices every single night. Unable to sleep but afraid of his mother, he opened his window and snuck outside.

The air was cool, and the stars were bright. The crickets were busy filling the night with music. He walked over to the old well on their property. He rarely spent time there. It was dried up, and he found its historical significance boring. He decided to throw rocks in it.

He picked up a handful of small pebbles and tossed them one by one into the well.

“Ow!”

Dylan landed on his butt.

“Hello!?” he yelled, initially hesitant to put his head down the well.

He couldn’t see anything.

“Hey you!” a voice came from the well.

            “Chídùn bì zuǐ! Nǐ huì chǎo xǐng tā de fùmǔ, ránhòu wǒmen jiù wándànle!” came a second, even louder voice.

            His instinct was to scream for his mom, but he knew she'd never understand. He stuck his head even further down the well but lost his grip and fell.

            He couldn't tell how long he had fallen, but he was alive. He saw two sets of eyes staring at him—two pairs of Chinese eyes.

            “Are you guys real Chinamen?”

            “We are Chinese!” said the first voice he had heard.

            The children were no older than he was. The only difference (besides being Chinese) was that they were covered in dirt from being underground.

            “What are you doing in my well?” asked Dylan.

            “We dig!” said the first kid.

            “Did you dig a hole all the way from China?” asked Dylan.

            “Yes!” said the boy.

            “Wow!

            “Give us eat!” said the boy.

            “What?” asked Dylan.

            “Eat! Damn you. Give eat! Now!”

            “Are you hungry?”

            “Eat!” repeated the two Chinese boys.

            Dylan crawled out of the hole and went back inside to look for food. He was trying to find something in his fridge a Chinese boy might like. Would they like string cheese? He didn’t think so. He could hear his mom stirring and ran back outside. He looked on the ground for something little Chinese boys might like and found some snails. He picked them up and put them in his pocket.

            “I brought you these,” he held out the snails once at the bottom of the well again.

            “Eat!” the two boys yelled and gladly accepted the snacks from Dylan.

            They dug into the mollusks as if they hadn’t eaten in years. Dylan’s eyes lit up as he watched them eat.

            “Can I come with you to China?” he asked.

            “Mukbang!” the two boys yelled in unison.

            “Wha?”

            “No, mukbang! No, mukbang! No China! Stay here!” said the boy who knew English.

            “Nàgè yuán yǎnjīng de báirén xiǎo nánhái shuō shénme?” said the non-English-speaking boy.

            “What’s mukbang?” asked Dylan.

            "Mukbang, goddammit!" yelled the first boy.

            Mukbang, mukbang, mukbang! It went on and on.

            “How do I say ‘shut up’ in Chinese? Shut up, you’re gonna get me grounded again,” said Dylan.

            The English-speaking boy pointed at the empty snail shells.

            “More! More now! Asshole! Mukbang!”

            Dylan understood. He exited the well, searched through the dirt and grass for more slugs, and returned with about a dozen snails.

            The English-speaking boy snatched up the snails, sucking out the snails from their shells at record speed, devouring them all in about half a minute.

            “Mukbang!” he declared.

            Dylan understood. All those videos he'd seen of Chinese people (primarily petite women with very pale faces) where they would eat massive amounts of slugs or cockroaches or octopuses or squids or brains or scorpions or huge bowls of ramen or eyeballs—those videos were all called Mukbang. 

            With the help of his Ben 10 action figures and empty snail shells, the three boys were able to work through the language barrier and get to the bottom of why the two Chinese boys had dug a hole all the way from China to end up in Dylan’s well. What Dylan was about to discover about reality and the state of the world would leave him shaken.

            Mukbang wasn't just a trend on social media of Chinese people stuffing their faces with copious amounts of food for likes, it was far more sinister. Ages ago, when the world was young, and people were just taking their first steps into civilization, elder gods ruled the world. Some were benevolent, others malevolent, but all of them required payment. The most insatiable of these gods was named Mukbang. His hunger could never be quenched, and he ruled with fire and terror over his dominion. The secrets that led to his long slumber have since been forgotten. He had awakened once more with a bigger appetite than ever. 

            The boy who had some grasp of English, Dylan learned, was named Hewei Yu. The one who couldn’t speak a lick of English was called Keenen Ivory Wang. Hewei continued the tale for Dylan.

            "Mukbang, grow big!" said Hewei, gesturing with his hands. "Take over China! China people make mukbang videos; this give Mukbang more power! Now, all China become slave Mukbang! They forced to feed selves. So much food! Gluttony! They feed selves, video selves, and this feeds Mukbang. Power grows! You understand my language?”

            “What can we do about this?” asked Dylan.

            "Do? Do nothing! We run away! One million Chinese boys dig tunnels to escape Mukbang! We stay with you now, white boy!"

            “My mom’s going to lose it,” said Dylan.

            “You mom a bitch!” said Hewei.

            Dylan considered this.

            “Yeah, you’re right. My mom is a bitch. All she does is ground me. Tell you what, you guys can stay in my walls as long as you like. I’ll bring you snacks when I can.”

            For the following week, Hewei and Keenen Ivory stayed in the walls of Dylan's home. When he could, he brought them a variety of snacks—grasshoppers, snails, and crickets being their favorites. It all came crashing down when Dylan's mom came into his room to find butterflies, beetles, wasps, and grasshoppers hopping all over the place. She screamed, and then her voice cracked. Dylan saw how her hair went white. It was the first time his mother had ever laid hands on him.

            When they started fumigating the house, the two boys were still inside the walls. Dylan had to wait till nightfall to get them out. Luckily, they were still alive.

            Once safe inside the well, Dylan had an idea.

            “I know what to do!” he said.

            “What you know what to do?” asked Hewei.

            "You see, it's basically illegal to be Chinese in this city. My mom made sure of that. You guys can't just go walking around being Chinese and all that. But what if you weren't Chinese? My little gay friend can put makeup on you guys to make you look not Chinese. Actually, I don't know if Nicky is gay; my dad says he's gay, and that's why he's not allowed to sleep over. Let’s try it.”

            Dylan pulled out his walkie-talkie to call Nick.

            “Red five, come in, red five, come in,” said Dylan, speaking into the walkie.

            “Red five here, over,” replied Nick, sleepy.

            "Oh yeah, I forgot to say over. Anyway, I need your help. Meet me in the alley behind Old Man Cliff's house and Nick, bring your toolkit."

            “Tight,” said Nick.

            Old Man Cliff's house was a creepy place. They loved to test the limits of their bravery on his property. Between bouts of ding-dong-ditching him, they'd run to his back gate and let his dogs out. Those dogs were the meanest in the neighborhood but not nearly as mean as their owner. A.J., another friend of Dylan's, claims Old Man Cliff tortured a kid to death in the backyard.

            The alley behind his house is where the neighborhood kids often met up to play or ride bikes. Nicky had his giant toolbox in hand.

            “What are those?” he asked, pointing at Hewei and Keenen Ivory.

            “They’re Chinese kids,” said Dylan.

            “The Chinese are real!? Holy crud,” said Nicky. “Are the Japanese real too?”

            Dylan shrugged his shoulders.

            “Hey,” said Nicky. “What’s the difference between Chinese and Japanese anyway?”

            Dylan shrugged once more, saying, "I need your help. They’re running away from Mukbang and need a place to hide. My mom will ground me again if she finds them. I hate my mom. Can you make them look not Chinese with your makeup?”

            “This is going to be so much fun!” Nicky jumped up and down.

            Nicky took the various makeup items out of his toolkit. Watching Nicky work was like watching a magic show. Gays are really talented, Dylan thought.

            When Nicky was done, Dylan could have sworn he was looking at two completely different people. Where once stood Hewei now stood a little girl resembling a young Dakota Fanning. She even had a skirt and knee-high socks with her little red shoes. In place of Keenen Ivory now stood a little black boy, looking identical to Cory from Cory in the House.

            “You’re a wizard,” Dylan said to Nicky.

            “This is my best work yet,” said Nicky.

            The three children were playing four square behind Old Man Cliff’s house when Dylan’s mother found them.

            "For Christ's sake, Dylan, how many times have I told you not to play in this old weirdo's property?"

            She stopped when she laid eyes on the little blonde girl Dylan was playing with, and for the first time in months, Dylan saw a genuine smile form on his mother's mouth.

            "Well, I'll be," she said. "Dylan, why didn't you tell us you had yourself a little girlfriend and a rather cute one, too."

            All Dylan could do was shrug his shoulders.

            "Well, what's your name, little miss?"

            “Hewei!” he blurted out.

            "Sounds like you said, Harriet. Well, isn't that a nice name for a cute little girl? " Dylan's mom said. “What's your last name, darling? Do I know your parents?"

            “Tubman,” Dylan blurted out. “Her last name is Tubman.”

            His mother scrunched her nose.

            "No, I don't think I know any Tubmans. Anyhow, it's time for dinner; why don't you bring Harriet Tubman along with you?"

            “Can my black friend come too?”

            "Now, Dylan, you and Harriet Tubman are about to have a date. Wouldn't that be weird for your little black friend to come along and be a third wheel? Don't you agree?" she said, leaning down to be at eye level with Keenen Ivory Wang.

            “Hello boss!” exclaimed Keenen Ivory.

            "Hi," she said, looking down on the boy. We don't have any soul food. I'm so sorry. Why don't you go run along now and eat dinner at home? Dylan has got a date."

            “Wǒ tā mā èle,” said Keenen Ivory under his breath.

            The three took off, leaving Keenen Ivory alone in Old Man Cliff’s alley.

            "Now, Dylan, don't you think you should hold your little girlfriend's hand while you walk?"

            “Oh, right,” said Dylan.

            Dylan held Hewei’s hand.

            “Zhè tài tóngxìngliànle,” said Hewei.

            “Harriet darling,” said Dylan’s mom. “You talk funny. Do you have an accent of some kind?”

            Sweat began to form on Dylan's brow, and his hand felt clammy inside Hewei's.

            “It’s not an accent mom, she’s just a little retarded is all.”

            His mother stopped in his tracks and said under her breath, "Of course, my son would bring a little retard to our house."

            They sat down for dinner, and Dylan's mom explained to his father that Harriet was on the slower side. Harriet reached for a bread roll when Dylan’s mom slapped her hand away.

            “Don’t they say grace at your house?”

            “Hory shit,” said Hewei, rubbing his hand.

            “What was that?” asked Dylan’s mom.

            "Leave it alone, Caroline, the kid’s retarded. Let’s say grace and eat,” said Dylan’s father.

            They ate in silence for the first couple of minutes.

            "So, Harriet, do your parents let you watch movies? That doesn't give you seizures or anything, does it?" Dylan's father asked.

            “Movies?”

            “Yes, movies. Do you like movies?”

            “Movies!”

            “What are your favorite movies?”

            “Jackie Chan!”

            “We don’t allow that kind of thing in this house. Didn’t your mother teach you better?” said Caroline.

            Hewei devoured a chicken drumstick. 

            “Don’t they feed you at your house? My goodness. Tell me, Harriet, what is it you like about my son?”

            “He protect from Mukbang!”

            “He what?” said Dylan’s father.

            “Mukbang! He protect!”

            “What in the heck is a mukbang?” asked Dylan’s father.

            "Mukbang? What is going on here? Wait a minute, Dylan, I've heard that gobbledygook somewhere before. Oh my God! Jerry, get the gun!"

            “Never out of my sight darling!”

            Jerry pulled out the six-shooter with lightning speed and pointed it at Hewei.

            "I'm starting to think this Harriet isn't a little girl at all. In fact, I'd say she's—"

            Caroline pulled the wig off, revealing that Harriet Tubman was actually a young Chinese boy named Hewei the whole time.

            “You brought a Chinese into this house!” screamed Jerry.

            “You’ve stabbed this family in the heart!” yelled Caroline. “I’m calling the police!”

            “You can’t!” said Dylan, standing between the gun and Hewei.

            "Get the fuck out of Dad's way, Dylan! You are grounded for one, no, two years for pulling this!"

            "Mom, stop it! I'm just trying to protect him from Mukbang!"

            "I have no choice, Dylan!" yelled Jerry. "I've got to shoot him!"

            At that moment, Keenen Ivory burst forth from the wall, flying through the air and tackling Jerry to the ground. Dylan picked up the gun and pointed it at his parents.

            "I hate you guys! All you ever do is ground me! I'm sick of it! These two are my family now. You can't ground me anymore. I'm going to become Chinese, and there's nothing you can do about it!"

            Dylan fired into the ceiling to show how serious he was.

            There was a rumbling like an earthquake. Dylan initially believed the house to be collapsing due to his one bullet.

            “What’s happening?” he asked.

            “It’s Mukbang! He’s so angry! We must give sacrifice!”

            Dylan knew what to do. He shot his mother in the kneecap. The three boys grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to the well outside. They threw her down the well, an offering to Mukbang. Mukbang gladly accepted.

            Caroline's punishment would be severed. She was chained to the peak of Mount Everest, always cold and always suffering, but kept alive to fulfill her sentence for all eternity. Mukbang set up a livestream where Caroline would be force-fed giant bowls of geoduck, centipedes, snails, squids, sheepsheads, and worms. She would gag, trying to swallow these morsels, but her constant hunger would force her to keep ingesting the sustenance. Mukbang, pleased with the outcome, would sleep for another dozen years.

            Not long after, Tawain was conquered and reunited with mainland China once more.

            No one quite knows what became of Dylan, but rumor has it he fulfilled his promise and became Chinese.