The members of the Explorers Club gathered at their meeting house one evening to find Sir Ferdinand Feghoot sipping a brandy while leaning gingerly against the fireplace mantel. Ferdinand, old boy, shouted Sir Roger, Back so soon from the Peoples Republic? Sit down and tell us all about it.

Sir Ferdinand grimaced. Id rather NOT sit down, Roggie old boy. But, yes, my mission to China was a success. Not to China, rather, but to old Tibet, the roof of the world, shamelessly annexed by the Red Chinese.

What brought you to such a cold, inhospitable place, asked Sir Thomas. Searching for ancient Buddhist Sutras? Or perhaps on the trail of the Abominable Snowman?

Theyre called Yetis, these days, Tommie, replied Ferdinand, But, no, I was invited to help exorcize an abandoned Buddhist temple. My friend Lama Mipham was allowed to restore a long unused temple by the Chinese government. Not for worship, you understand, but as a museum to further extol the glories of the Peoples Republic. Lama Mipham felt that even for his people merely to have access to the art and architectural treasures stored therein would help prevent the further loss of their traditions.

But imagine his surprise, as he began clearing the temple, at being physically attacked!

By brigands? asked Sir Rupert, Temple robbers, prying loose rubies as big as your fist, that were used as third-eye ornaments in enormous idols?

Lama Mipham is an expert martial artist, Feghoot explained. He could deal with common criminals. No, he was attacked by supernatural defenders of the faith. Dakinis.

Dakinis? all the club members muttered in disbelief.

Yes. It means skywalker, you know. Ghostly women, of all sizes, skin colors, some with animal heads, each armed with a mystical weapon that produces very real physical damage.

No wonder this monk fellow asked for your assistance, said Sir Edmund, Youre well known as an accomplished exorcist. Do sit down and elaborate.

Once again, Feghoot demurred. Ill not be sitting down for quite a while, Im afraid. But I rushed to the temple, armed with holy water, and a nasty three-sided dagger called a purba that can pierce ghostly flesh.

How exciting, whispered Sir Oscar.

No sooner did Lama Mipham and I enter the temple, than a huge, lion-headed, dark green Dakini with a head-chopping sword gave an ear-shattering shriek. Lama Mipham splashed holy water on her, and she vanished.

Then a giantess, at least 12 feet tall, a red skinned Dakini, hurled an arm-binding noose over us, but as she drew us forward I stabbed her with the purba, and she vanished.

Next, a hugely obese dakini, blue-black with flames coming out of every pore hurled a shoulder-piercing trident at Lama Mipham, but he ducked, and countered by chanting the weapon mantra, PHAT! and she vanished.

Insulted, I should guess, chuckled Sir Bernard.

Well, to make a long story shorter, concluded Sir Ferdinand, There were dozens of dakinis, but Lama Mipham and I vanquished every one of them, although one of diminutive size (no bigger than my thumb) and saffron hue managed to avoid my attention and wounded me in an embarrassing part of my anatomy.

Sir Harold gasped. You mean…

Feghoot nodded. … She was an itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny, yellow, poke-a-butt Dakini. (ByAdam E. Ek based on a character by Reginald Bretner)