the inscrutable east

Strolling in the park with Miss Korea at evening.
Urban youth loll scarily on the grass.
There are a lot of them.
All leather, and cleavage, and hot pants, and high heels, and black tights.
And that was just the guys.
I shudder as we pass.
"Don't judge them," orders Miss Korea, noticing my abject terror.
"Am I allowed to judge them if they kill me?" I hiss with a hint of desperation.
"Never judge a book by the cover," clichés Miss Korea.
"Even if the cover of the book shows me being mercilessly slaughtered?" I venture.
"Just remember that Shakespeare quote about courage that you told me," muses Miss Korea.
The cheeky baggage.
I know the one she means.
"A coward dies many times before his death," I recite, "the valiant never taste of death but once. I gotta tell ya my little hibiscus blossom, Shakespeare was wrong. The valiant are tasting of death all the time. In the most meaningful way, ie by getting killed. And I bet before they get killed they've said to themselves a hundred times: How did I get myself into this situation? Why do I keep getting myself into this sort of situation? It's Shakespeare's fault. Him and his 'the valiant never taste of death but once.' What a load of old cobblers. If I ever meet him I'm gonna give him a root in the bawls." 
Ah it was a howl bold readers.
At least I wanted to howl but I was afraid I might upset the youths.
They who are the future of Ireland.
Truly our country is royally screwed.