Foo Ling

Foo Ling was an inventor. He spent his days goofing around in a laboratory of his own creation over there in China. He invented the first personal communications device. He called it the personal smoke signal generator. It didn’t go over so well.
He got the idea from those red skin guys over in America, only back then they called it Bison Land. This was way before Amerigo Vespucci’s grandparents had even met.
He tried like heck to convince them to buy one but they already had signal fires that they had gotten in the habit of using over several generations.
“But this is entirely portable, you can set it up any where,” Foo Ling said. “And you don’t have to gather fire wood.”
“No thanks.” Fred the Indian said, his real name was Running Water a distant great grand-sire of Indoor Plumbing.
“Oh, c’mon.”
“No, Foo Ling.”
“Darn it.”
He came up with this improved black powder for his smoke signal device: still no go.
“Why don’t you just sell the powder?” Mad Max said after an exceptional smoke signal shot into the air.
“Who would want...hey, wait a minute...” Foo Ling said.
Foo Ling made all kinds of money after that. Max knew what he had done because back then he still had lucid moments and moments of clarity, sometimes at the same time, but that’s why it’s Mad Max, not Sane Max.