Thank You, Mr. Bean

Mr. Bean tries to sink the Titanic, but the Titanic won't sink. He scrubs his pits with a teddy bear, then stands. The suds cover his naughty bits. He grabs a towel, which wraps like pants around his thighs, and heads through the door, boat in one hand, animal in the other.

He's in a car now, and, for safety, he checks his nostrils in the rearview and eyes the pebbles beyond his left-side passenger window. A man with evil dipping eyebrows emerges from a truck three times the size of Mr. Bean's car and dashes a sardonic smile our hero's way.

Mr. Bean is not to be daunted by the problem emerging before his eyes. He parks his car with the bumper parallel to the curb. A nice policewoman with a sharply angled nose waves the tip left and right. Silly Mr. Bean.

Mr. Bean sulks around. Aha! His face lights up. But wait—a gray sedan swoops in on Mr. Bean's new parking spot. Mr. Bean's lips move in a formation that looks like the word "Fuck." Malaysia! Oh my!

He sulks some more. And now... what's this? He's kissing the ground in unbridled, don't-give-a-toss-about-his-immune-system glee. A parking spot, at last!

He stalks into a gray building and climbs into a lush theatre seat to enjoy the big-picture flick. It's the tale-end of the film, and a giant boat is sinking. He missed the whole darn thing. His head drops in exasperation as he realizes the moral of his own story (?).

"The End" expands across the screen. Ah, what a tale. Thank you, Mr. Bean.


Editorial note: Mr. Bean is a popular cartoon in Malaysia, or at least on the train that runs to and from destinations north of Kuala Lumpur on the west coast. The television played five episodes, at least, with the sound muted and no subtitles on my trip from the farm to the city. This post is a recounting of one of those riveting Mr. Bean episodes—a tribute, if you will. I learned so much about life from that little cartoon man.