"I told you I would."
"You look like that impertinent creature who sings about the good ship Lollipop. "
"Tell me about it," Remo growled.
"I will go no place with you looking like such an imbecile."
Remo hesitated. It was an opening. "Oh, no," he said. "A deal's a deal. I promised you I would wear this and I'm wearing it to dinner. That's it, case closed."
"Not with me, you're not," Chiun said.
"Oh yes, I am. And if anybody laughs, they're dead." He walked toward the door of their room. "Let's go," he said.
Chiun stepped alongside him. "All right," he said reluctantly. "If you insist."
But at the doorway Chiun stopped. "Hold," he shouted. "What is that smell?"
"What smell?" Remo said. "I don't smell anything."
"That smell like a pleasure house. Wait. It comes from you."
Remo bent his head over and sniffed his chest. "Oh, that. I always use that. That's my after-shower splash."
"I did not know they made such things from garlic," Chiun said.
"It's not garlic. It's fresh. Woodsy, kind of. I wear it all the time."
"You wear it all the time when you keep yourself wrapped in clothing. That muffles your odor. But now ... with your skin exposed . . " He pinched his nostrils shut. "It is more than I can bear."
His eyes widened into two hazel marbles.
"Quick. It is befouling my beautiful kimono. Quick, Remove it before the fabric is forever impregnated with that stench."
"You sure you want me to do this, Chiun?" Remo asked.
"Please, Remo. Now. Hurry. Before I expire." Remo walked back into the bathroom. A moment later, he was back wearing his usual black T-shirt, chinos and leather loafers.
"Did you hang my kimono up to air out?" Chiun asked.
"Yes. Can we go and eat now?"
"Yes, if our appetites have not been ruined for all time," Chiun said.
"I'll eat just fine," Remo said with a smile.