My favorite color swash is red. I use it to wax the radiators when it's too cold outside to play in the yard. Sometimes yellow swash tastes like peanut butter, although my grandmother always says it will make you go blind. I guess the swash in her day was stronger. Today I saw a blue swash wrapped around the neck of the snowman the neighbor's kids built in their front yard. They say their father got it in Korea somewhere near Kaesong—just below the 38th parallel. A group of exiled Shaolin blessed it. Their father fell into a dream the night the monks gave him the swash and he saw Bodhi-Dharma standing inside a cave. He entered a cave beneath the Wuru peak alone and sitting before the cave-wall for nine years, he learned from Bodhi-Dharma the secrets of the swash. On the morning of the ninth year, Bodhi-Dharma, still facing the wall, began to shine like the sun and his image burned into the wall of the cave. When their father came out of that dream, the secrets of swash came with him. I don't believe them about their father though because my dad told me the true secret of swash. I know my dad would never lie to me. That's why I poisoned their dog's food. When I get older, I will go into their house some night and cut their heads off. It's only right. There is only one true swash. My dad said so.