Bok Choy Roy Pt. 2

I am stealth. I blend. I am just your average Asian buying produce, picking through aggressive, handling the fruit, the vegetables, trying to find ten good green peppers for a dollar, five good limes for a dollar, a couple of edible avocados. Wrist deep in Bok Choy I hear something, a raised voice inside, then an argument. My Asian crime fighting senses start to tingle. Something is up. The robber exits the store in full flight rattling a stolen can of Wasabe peas. I grab a head of Bok Choy, rip off a couple of leaves and pull some crazy fast Bok Choy air moves. The pea bandit stops short, in awe of my skills. I move forward and slap him repeatedly across the face. Over and over and over, slap-slap-slap, just like that. He drops the can and goes down. I stand over him in full pose. He gets up, backs up and then starts running. I feel for more Bok Choy, never taking my eyes off him. My Asian eye does the math, calculates the distance. I take aim and toss the Bok Choy. It is a direct hit, striking him square on the head, knocking him out cold. I stand proud as I am surrounded then mobbed by my adoring people in the street. I have my name. I am Bok Choy Roy.