The Wedding Singer
It occurred involuntary, so sudden it may not have been seen;
even the blink of an eye would not be fast enough to catch the
scene displayed. But the camera did. Tragically, that memory will
last forever in this film until the frame itself decays. I swore;
"I'll never lay a finger on that camera ever again." All around
the school filled with lunatics and mammon I became aware, that I
was a part of it.
Luke violently chucks the scrap of poster ad into the bin,
cussing while waiting for the bus to arrive while rhythmically
chewing his gum. Then he spat it on the ground since it ran out
of flavor. Under the limpid roof of clear plastic and crooked
wooden benches near the dim lamp post, he sat down by his
lonesome late at night, waiting for the last ride at midnight.
"Damn it, a foreigner ain't legit enough to flip a patty or mop
the floor in this country? What a load of shit…"
Before he speaks any further of his routine as a worker, the tell
tale skin color will do much by way of the explanation of his
personality: a tall, furious looking Italian, Luke pulled out his
wallet as the bus made a squeaking noise much like rusty bicycle
brakes make. The door swung open. He hopped in as he picked up
the coins in his wallet and dropped then into the teller. He
walked towards the seat farthest from the front. He felt the
vibration of the engine, with the ear phone bouncing with the
bass. He sat down. With hardly any passengers the lights were dim
and the vehicle was in silence. The sleepiness tried to take
advantage of him and, without hesitating, he politely obeyed,
although, distractions came as the bus stopped, rocking sideways.
A Japanese female school student came in; Luke could tell by the
uniform. Her long hair covered her eye lines like a perfect
figure from a horror movie. Then the moment she brushed the hair
out of her sight, there appeared a soft tender face filled with
sweetness and humility. When I stared at her, she stared back,
and then coyly shied away.
"Too pretty for a whore. What the hell is she doing here late at
Luke unplugged his ear phone and waved to her.
"Hey, I don't mean to take advantage of you or anything, but do
you mind if I just come and sit next to you?"
Luke's conscience was clear, "I bet she didn't understand a word
I said." Instead she walked slowly toward him with a surprised
expression on her face. Just like a feather she politely sat
"Why are you out here late at night?" Luke asked
"About the school…" She responded
"You are pretty good at English aren't you? What's your name?"
"Kotonoha…" again she coyly answered.
"Sweet, I like that name my name is Luke."
"Nice to meet you, Luke." She joyfully chortled as Luke spoke. He
knew that she had no idea what the hell he had said, but she
still enjoyed the attention. It is almost a miracle that Luke
kept his composure while conversing with such a lovely girl. He
had heard beforehand that in this country there were little
cuddly kittens like her, but never thought of coming across a
real one. Luke usually had only sexual motivation for talking to
a girl like her, but not this time. She was adorable.
"Oh, this is my stop good night Luke," she said.
"Wait up…," replied Luke.
The timing was perfect. Luke knew this moment would come. He
reached out his arm to the girl, handing her a piece of paper
with cell phone number on it.
"Call me when you need it," he said.
The bus door shut. Luke followed her with his eye as the bus
moved forward, and she kindly waved back at him. The vehicle got
quiet once again. Luke plugged the ear phone back into his ear.
In a rapid pace, his heart pounded in excitement synchronizing
with the beat. Meanwhile his positive state of mind was seduced
with rapture, but the other side of the coin was cooled. Showing
an attitude of serenity proclaiming; "that bitch ain't calling
you back." He set back deep into the seat, thinking, "It was all
a good business she will call you back." Luke maintained his
"Luke, what do you want for breakfast?" Genevieve asked
"Bacon and eggs sweetie." He answered.
Genevieve fluttered the apron she wore, tying the knot around her
waist. In a delicate manner, she picked up a couple of eggs and
cracked them on the side of the sink breaking them. Splitting the
shell, the egg gently fell into the heating pan. Then, she
reached into the fridge, took out the bacon and set it next to
the eggs after slicing it. She left the kitchen, sat next to Luke
and kissed him on his cheek, while she placed the glass of milk
on the nearby table. Genevieve wrapped her arms around Luke's
arm, softly claiming,
"You know how sad I was last night all alone?"
"Oh please, are we yet married Genevieve?" Luke responded in
Luke continued, "by the way, the pan is still on fire; don't you
need to keep an eye on that?"
Luke flicked his thumb towards the kitchen. Genevieve quickly
went to turn off the gas. When she came back, she had two plates,
one in each of her hand, setting them on the table as Luke sat
down. He grabbed the knife and broke the egg, spilled the yolk
all over the plate.
"So, how did the job offer go?" Genevieve asked.
Luke shook his head sideways. "Not so good…"
Luke disappointingly scooped up the overflowed yolk using the
spoon to put it in his mouth. Genevieve also looked down. "Well,
money is not the concern, right? Wealth is not the thing which
maintains our relationship. Am I correct?"
"Don't give me that, you chose me because you saw me with Ray Ban
sunglasses on, wearing a shirt made of pure Italian silk," Luke
stated with some intensity.
"No, I choose a man for his attitude, not his influence,"
"Attitude? Like what? Some rich man from Monte Negro? Well I've
got news for you; I'm not over-educated trash."
Luke snickered in sarcasm as he grabbed the glass of milk.
"Anyhow, the thing which got me thinking for over two days is;
how on earth did you know that my Dad is away off to the
Philippines for work?"
"Your mother told my mom, and she told me."
"Oh…okay, does your father know that you are here?"
She paused for a moment in disguise.
"Let me put it in this way…he's reluctant of my existing."
"Yeah I get it; your daddy has too much focus on those future
planes and junk."
"I did everything I could to make him comfortable with me, but he
still rebuked me."
"That's pretty sad…,"
Luke concluded. Then Genevieve melancholically interrogated.
"Is it exasperating to you for me to be here?"
In cuddly manner she leaned her upper body on the table.
"Your bountiful generosity never disheartens my aspiration
Luke squeezed her hand and stroked her hair back lightly. She
spoke in French,
"J'aime la façon dont vous mettez les mots ensemble."
"Ma, io non sono diventando peotico."
"A unification of individual contentment is what prefunded the
relationship," thought Luke. So did Genevieve. Both of their lips
calmly advanced to one another. Unforeseeably, the phone which
was in Luke's pocket rang. He gradually put his head back into
the normal position, as did as Genevieve. He left the dining room
and went into his room. After a while, he came back, Genevieve
"Who was it?"
Luke didn't say a word, susceptibly walked up to her and kissed
"Genevieve, I've got a job…as a camera man."
Luke wondered; are harsh choices always the correct choices? His
body rested in peace after a forceful gratification. But the mind
was in bedlam, provoking the truth behind the fact that Luke had
intent of soliciting the innocent gal from last night. Sure, she
is tolerable. Luke remembers her first influence over him.
Temptation is manageable in under a certain circumstance, but
honesty is out of the discussion. How can anyone be lackadaisical
over an attractive single female? Then Luke found out; in fact
the answer excised quite close to him. An angel of atonement lies
next to him covering her exposed body in blanket gingerly in
dormant with her eyes shut. Luke gently kissed Genevieve on her
mellifluous cheek chilled by the cold breeze of air in the room.
On a high noon, the moist humidity filled the sky with heavy
clouds; dump temperature produced warm rain, but a serene zephyr.
Luke opened the window and set next to Genevieve pressing buttons
on the phone. Then he opened the message file and then an
astonishing bulletin popped out; the return of a man long gone.
"What the hell…?"
He's back, one of those foreboding memories which were kept
classified for a long time. Luke's fellow man; once to be the
pernicious associate before Genevieve came into his life. The
unenlightened age made a turn back in Luke's life to condemn him,
"Who called you now?"
Luke's back froze, but rapidly warmed with the brush of her skin;
he felt tranquility. A sentimental frisk poured in to Luke when
Genevieve's skin; moisturized in humidity touched him cordially.
She rubbed her eyes handling the thin blanket coating her chest.
"It's just my old friend."
Would be a fundamental answer contradictory to Luke's aghast
emotion. It obviously won't work, but had no choice.
"That guy from Cameroon, remember? Used to be the bassist of my
Genevieve didn't recognize him at first and then she slowly
caught up. She reminisced;
"Do you mean Harold? I remember him, is he in Japan?"
"We should go meet him."
Genevieve got up from the bed and wore her underwear on then set
right back into the same spot.
"I guess so…"
Luke answered grudgingly. He reckoned the past several years
since the last time he met Harold. It was approximately three
years ago Luke resulted. In his memory Harold left Luke and the
band with no ordinary reason. He knew there was a crime behind
the scene, but not an assassination. Scrutinizing the past the
recollection of sequences has proven deficient. It was too
inconsequential and debilitated to recall completely. At that
time, Luke predicted that Harold himself had his major personal
issues which caused him to dissipate abruptly.
"I heard that he knocked up a Japanese girl."
"Thanks for the back fence talk Genevieve, where do you get all
this shits from?"
"He told me, obviously, journalism is not my talent Luke."
"Well, there you go your future career."
At the first time today, Luke was stunned. Not the discovery of
Harold being a father of a child whose mother is yet anonymous
but, the fact that Harold kept it secret from him for a long
time. Luke scrolls the office chair next to the bed and set down
firmly. Gazing at the clock on the shelf he makes a proposition;
"Hey, do you want to hang out and grab a drink or two?"
"Sounds like a fine idea. Hey, can you hand me over my bra on the
Genevieve set up and yawned as she finished the sentence. Luke
gave her the bra and left the room. He twisted the handle on the
sink; water came out hitting Luke's hand harshly. Luke scooped up
the flowing water and splashed drastically against his face three
times. Then he paused in front of the mirror staring profoundly
into his own eyes. He could tell that the pupil was dilating as
he concentrated onto his dark eye. So he remembered the first
seen when he met Genevieve. Wearing shirt made of pure Italian
silk riding on a Yamaha bike with the Ray Ban sunglass on. A
magnificent individual caught his eye, walking out from a French
catholic church after the sermon ended. Her outstanding
virtuosity enthralled Luke. He had it all clearly preserved in
his memory. Miraculously, without any consistence acknowledgement
of each other's language both Luke and Genevieve's intendment of
amour implied. Luke even took an oath; to cede himself if
necessary for her. But now, when Luke stepped down from the
cloud, he certifies the hardship of responsibility.
"Did you really not understand when I said; I love you the first
day we met?"
"No, I did not. Why? Something wrong?"
The clock was ticking on the wall roughly just about to hit
midnight. Odors of tobacco and wood dust infested the bar nether
the train track. On a retrospective shelves, probably carved from
the redwood. Dozens of series of liquor glasses lined up in a
row. At the center, a Polish bar tender intermediated the counter
and the liquor shelves, polishing the glass in his hand using a
piece of white cloth.
"Nothing's wrong for not knowing Genevieve. I thought the term I
love you is a public domain do you get what I mean? It's more of
an international reference. You see on a cheap T-shirt or maybe
on a cheap mug."
"Ah ha… so are you saying that I'm this sort of a stupid bitch
who doesn't know what the term means in this whole world?"
An unpleasant tone presented from Genevieve mouth, but didn't
express any aggressiveness.
"Not that I'm judging you, I think it's unique of you…"
Luke recognizes an ultimate strike out. He uncomfortably looks
through the empty glass in despair speculating for an
advantageous sentence for breaking the ice that's between
Genevieve although; the deduction was far too easy to interpret.
"Genevieve, are you drunk already?"
She lye her arm on the counter top then rubbed her forehead
against it like a cat. After moaning a several time she spoke in
a wobbly voice multiple time claiming to Luke that she "never
studied English before she came to Japan."
"OK, OK, you said it enough; do you want me to call the cab?"
Luke shoved his hand inside the pocket on the right side of his
jeans. At the split second he realizes that he left his phone at
home. Luke cussed under his voice and turned to the Polish bar
tender for the phone. He puts down the beer glass and the white
cloth then disappeared into the kitchen. Moments later he came
back with a cell phone.
"Thanks a lot."
While Luke was dialing the number Genevieve toppled on to his
"Will you generously accompany me back to the castle my prince?"
Genevieve snuggles in Luke's chest.
"With contentment my princess…"
Luke ironically composed in a medieval styled phrase.
"Ye all right sir?"
The Polish bar tender leans his body towards the counter asking
if Luke needs any help.
"I'm all cool."
But as soon as the taxi arrives ultimately the Polish man gave a
hand to support Genevieve's unstableness and carried her into the
car. The Japanese cap driver asks Luke to name the destination.
He simply answered home.
Luke set on the couch the next early morning. His head still
dumbfounded under the influence from the liquor he consumed last
night. He turned on the TV and sipped his mug of coffee. Luke
makes a bitter face and walks to the kitchen. He reaches to the
upper drawer and grabs a jar of sugar. Then he drew opens the
bottom drawer and pulled out a tea spoon. Luke plunged the tea
spoon inside the jar and dumps a lump sum of sugar into the mug,
two times. Luke takes another sip, relishing forward to an
exceptional taste. This time was perfectly over the hump. He set
right back on the couch, and presses the button on the
controller. The temperature outside was bleak, fog creped in from
the surface rising up haltingly, blinding afar objects. Except
one; a lurid silhouette lurking around the other side of the
fence. Luke cautiously stares at the ceased gloomy figure for a
while. Then, in an agile smooth move the figure disappeared into
the mist. Room by room, Luke began his scrutiny by locking all
the windows in the house. And then suddenly from behind, a bone
chilling notion raided Luke. It was coming from the other side of
the entrance door. Luke anxiously approached the door, with the
kitchen knife in his hand. When he got in front of the door, he
looks into the scope. Then another door slams shut from his back,
Luke alarmed, then expeditiously he turns around pointing the
blade at Genevieve who happened to be there heading to the
restroom for brushing her teeth. She froze for a moment in
dismay. Luke dropped the knife on the pavement, placing his palm
on his chest, soothed, retaking his breath.
"You totally spooked me out babe…"
"Why…? What happened?"
"So…any idea how the guy may had look like?"
"I told you, fog creped in this morning, I couldn't see a thing."
Mean while Genevieve stayed in the house, a Japanese police
officer discussed with Luke for examine any leads.
"All I know is that, it was a tall, possibly a male snooped
around the fence for a while and vanished."
"If that's all the information you got, I can't guaranty you for
finding the suspect."
"That's pretty helpful; actually, can you remind me the Japanese
law once again? What's your limitation on self defense?"
The police man grimed at Luke, got into the police van and drove
away. Genevieve came out from the house and hugged Luke from
"What did they say? Any effective clues?"
"Nothing; useless bastards."
Luke lovingly strokes her hair and went back into the house.
The fogs thicken in midday swarming the entire house under the
mist. Gray fluorescent peered from the window glass causing all
the walls in the room to gleam in white. In an unconventionally
casted down ambient, Luke sets facing the TV reposing his chin on
the hand formed intoa socket. A typical Saturday anime channel he
accidently dials. A bizarre looking mutant popped out. In a sour
note, the anthropomorphic frog-looking character commands the
other nightmarish troops to adjust the aim for the enemy. While
tuning their bazooka-like weapon, a flying saucer launches a
cannon ball over the cliff, where the division of frog mutants
stud. The cannon ball detonated right in what it seems like frog
general's face. Luke presumed that his head got blown off and
smiles. But as soon as the smoke clears out, that damn frog
feebly gets up. Even the creatures around him got up, unharmed.
Luke got bowl over by this stupidity. His frustration increased
when a Japanese girl dressed like a whore walked into the scene.
Her short skirt reached the maximum length where her underwear
peeped out when she shuck her hips; all the events in this epic
freak show were satiated with pandemonium.
Genevieve's intonation did not seem to assert maliciousness,
though the expression on her face demonstrated anguish.
"I'm very confident to myself that I won't have a crash with a 2D
character in a TV. Especially when I have you right in front me."
Luke drowsily presses the button and shuts down the TV. Luke
didn't grin this time, not even concealing his true cynic feeling
he used to have towards this ineptitude topic. He directly kisses
Genevieve and held her cold hands. Then he coursed his body,
wrapping her body with his arms. Genevieve's intensity dropped
out her shoulder muscle. Following the suite of Luke, she fondly
wraps her arms around him also. Them calmly Luke spoke;
"Hey, I know how you feel in this moment. Things happened today,
it was a life threatening experience. But on the bright side no
one is blemished."
A drop of tear leeks out from Genevieve's eye Luke wiped off with
his finger. Genevieve smiles, her gloomy attitude withered.
"As long as you are with me you are safe."
Luke's old blunt oath came into his mind. A draconian passion
saturated Luke, rash of adrenalin irrelevantly induced in his
veins. Luke felt his heart; full of elevating strain, attained
the pinnacle of dignity. The beast, which lay immure has woken
up, to regain the fury bound in time attempting for a rampage.
The lock has been dismissed; release the beast.
"When does your work start, Luke?"
Genevieve asked with uneasiness.
"Next week hun'."
Luke grazed his hip clothed in blue indigo jeans. Stripes of
designed cuts on the pants stretched when Genevieve crouch her
legs. Luke sprawls back on the couch, arched his arms almost
groping the wide Eric Clapton wall poster live at the Winterland.
"You said, they offered you a job of a camera man; what kinds of
photo are you taking?"
"I don't know, I guess it would be something about their academic
bout; party, field day, student picture, album, and such."
Luke's indeterminate response bothered Genevieve.
"Are you sure they hired you with a conservative purpose?"
"I didn't sign any contract yet Genevieve, if this job is
impractical or irrelevant, I can still deny. So, I first need to
take an appointment with whoever's in charge for my job
"What's the name of the school?"
"St. Patrick International Catholic School in Japan."
"Oh, that's the same high school my sister went."
"Did she say anything about the school?"
Genevieve reminisced for a moment.
"Very few she acquaint about the school, I remember, once, she
returned home; her emotion looked confused. I asked her what's
the matter and she said about…"
"About what?"Luke curiously sets strait up on the sofa.
"An unlicensed premature photographer of some sort.Telling my
sister to do daftly things."
"Such as?"Genevieve paused.
"You know what? She didn't exactly articulate what she was trying
to tell me."
"Could it be something disturbing?"
"Ah, shit."Luke pulled down his eye lids in discomfiture.
"I hope it's not some messed up league of imbecilic religious
De facto, Luke didn't get blown into this diligence; Atheism is
the standard philosophy in Luke's lifeblood. What Luke found out
after period of time breaking one's neck over monetary? A major
religion stream phenomena; Presence of the Lord, was nothing then
a world large apparitional psychedelic experience. He gladly
accepted the devil to intervene in his life, any faithful
Christians would say Luke thought. Luke's intension was only to
make a living out of by committing folly, not that he had a
choice to which he could choose from. According to the so what
called the Holy Book inclusive of; mind control, hypocrites, and
false fact, Lukes' action was not allowed.
"Luke, the phone is ringing, Luke?"
Luke woke up from the bound of missing time. He pressed the
"Sup, Luke? Been for a while man."
A familiar voice of a black male crowed. Though, Luke didn't give
in that easily.
"Say what? Who are you anyway?"
"Don't recognize me no more? It's me man, Harold."
The man crowed again. Luke came down with a fundamental identity
"If you really are Harold, tell me the song we heard at down town
city in Tokyo, on October 2002."
The man thought for a moment, then, confidently replied.
"The Brothers Gonna Work it Out by Willie Hutch."
"Holy dumb fuck, it's him…"
Luke stunned without promoting orally. He blindingly turned to
Genevieve; she looked at his astounded face and chortled. Luke
kept on with the conversation.
"Shit Harold, where have you been all this year man? Genevieve
missed you so much."
"Well, the story's kinda long; talk you about it when we meet
"No thanks, I don't wanna hear your long boring story."
Luke banter, they both cracked up.
"Why don't you come and visit Genevieve's house, since you
already seems to know the location."
"Sorry man, I didn't mean to play secret agent on you."
"Man, I even reported you thinking that you are a mugger."
"Oh shit for real?"
"We all missed you man come home."
"Sure I do see ya all sooner or later."
He hung up. Luke seems to be yet puzzled.
"Say, Genevieve, according to your gossip conspiracy theory
Harold basically hit and run a girl in Japan, correct?"
Luke brushed his eye brows.
"If so, Harold has committed a public offence shouldn't he be
chased around by cops?"
Genevieve thought for a second before claiming other information.
She dropped her body on to the couch and set next to Luke. Her
eyes looked like if she was skimming through the past.
"It's just inconvenient…"
"Teenage pregnancy? This case occurs often now days and criminal
justice research has been done to track down these people. If
Harold committed this crime on full conscious the authorities
would convicted him before hand, but somehow however he managed
to deport from Japan with no hesitation and even had the nerve to
return? This is quixotic."
Luke was mesmerized how woman could be so sharp edged. For the
first time, Genevieve professed her penetrating hypothesis on
this gimmick puzzle-like avocation. Luke felted as if this was
some crucial turning point in a history.
"Wow, did Sherlock Homes had an under covered French daughter?"
"This is too obvious! Harold can't just walk away acting like if
"Well, us man have tendency to pretend if nothing happened in
this kind of moment."
Luke grimed sarcastically while Genevieve looked him as a
"That's not the issue Luke; Harold has an innominate back up."
"That's impossible; Harold had minor contact with other people in
this country and think of the budgetary expanse with his monthly
salary he receives for side work; he has no such expense even to
hire a loyal. It can't be done."
"Or someone might already pay for him."
Each by each, Luke and Genevieve's fabrication of hypothesis
incremented. The table illuminated with a small desk lamp with
scattered mounting of construction papers replicated a perfect
ambience of a scene from Law and Order. A medium of silence
surrounded the room if it's like contributing for the couples to
observe this inconvenient case. Sound of a car engine crossed the
front road; a nebulous, black Pontiacs swept way just like a
funeral vehicle on the way to grave yard carrying a dead man on
the back. Then, an unnoted verse from a book occupied Luke's mind
causing him to space out from the original concept.
"Several young men playing at foote-ball in the Jee upon the
Lords-day are all drowned."
What the hell was that? Luke shrugged in disgust. Since when did
I pay actual attention in bible class? As a grown up teenager,
yet this verse gave Luke goose bumps. For him it seemed if it was
some phonetic teaching of a strict Church. He thought of asking
to Genevieve, but later figured out that this is not the proper
Bible verse badgered Luke's high school life great times. The
expression on the teachers I shall fail you face vividly
projected to his mind as several other quotes from the gospel of
John recollected. In such a private theocratic school atheist
(like Luke) had very little to say. When a teacher told him to
memorize three or six passages as if it was a cake walk, Luke had
to cleave himself inside a cramped dorm room repeatedly jotting
down the same passage ad nauseam 'till the letters burned
perfectly into his mind. Oh, the hell with that, they were all
filthy-rich morons anyway.
Luke took another sip of coffee, which surprised him because he
thought he hadn't any left. The mug was still warm; someone must
have poured in a refill. As it seems to come to a point where
Genevieve was walking around with a pot filled with…coffee. At
exact midways of the kitchen entrance she stopped and passed the
curtain coming out from the other side entrance (Luke imagined
the amount of the lump sum of cash Genevieve's father spent for
all these particular kind of ornaments: marble floor of quadrant
shaped mosaics, turquoise flower vesicle, and every other things
looked just gorgeous). What sort of filthy rich house would have
a kitchen with two exits? When Genevieve came out from the other
end she had a glass of milk on her hand. Rarely, she wore her
Pearle Vision eyeglass which she used to wear on regular basis
while going to the catholic chapel. Luke wondered if she would
ware her glasses tomorrow also.
The next Sunday morning, mean while, Luke waited Genevieve's
church service to end (and yes she did ware the glasses) drinking
double-shot espresso in Talley's Coffee Shop nearby, instead of
sinking to the bottom of the lake playing foot-ball like the
other Quaker peers. One by one, Luke toured off the cover of the
sugar packs and dumped them into the hot steaming coffee;
sterling with the wooden meddler. The aroma of the fume came out
from the coffee stimulated his olfactory nerves slightingly with
a delicate flavor of cinnamon fragrance. Roosted in a mellow
state of mind Luke resumed the conversation he had with Harold.
Surely, he didn't seem hesitated in manner of talking through the
phone which it vouches any reason for Luke to postulate that
Harold is any sort of a crook. The tranquil vocalization he
expressed yesterday through the phone had no overshadowing of
external threats. Giving an account from this further analysis
Luke began to suspect the fact of Harold undertaking an anonymous
oppression (i.e. law suits). Apprehensive and even curios of
where or who Genevieve gathered her resources about Harold, Luke
hypothesized the existence of a possible faker who sabotaged the
entire scenario in order to accomplish a particular goal
presumably to manipulate Harold.
Luke took another sip of coffee, but spontaneously spitted out.
It wasn't the taste nor did the heat burn his tongue. It was a
loud thumping noise came from the glass window behind Luke. He
aggressively turned around and then Luke saw him…Harold; heavily
breathing with capillaries in his eyes inflated in terror.
"Harold…what the hell are you doing?"
Harold slammed the window in redo, but this time he paused for a
moment and flapped his lips like if he tried to communicate with
Luke on the other side. "I'm coming out side!" Luke rushed to the
exit and reached to the door handle, then as a sneaky bastard he
always were Harold vanished in a flick of an eye. When Luke got
out on the street there was no sign of him except for clustered
crowd of people passing by discursively. Looking around for his
friend whom disappeared in thin air, Luke found a spanner on the
floor lying next to his tip of the left toe. Before examining the
spanner's origin Luke had a savvy sense over this nominal tool
which appeared out of nowhere. Something familiar struck Luke's
conscious about the spanner. He picks up the cold piece of iron
off from the ground. As Luke brood over the surface, he felt a
texture of writing on the other side with the tip of his fingers.
He rotated the spanner and read the letters curved on the handle
Aaron's Appliance Co.
For now, at least, the origin of the spanner will remain
uncertain. Just in case, if the memory follows as a corollary
that will unexpectedly correlate with the information on this
tool, Luke putts the spanner inside his pocket. He turns around
and heads backs into the coffee shop, then the mobile phone rang.
Luke pressed the button on the key and opens the text message
from Genevieve: I just sow Harold!!!
The diagnosis of a person getting knocked out by a flying object
of some form is fairly predictable: Waking up not remembering a
thing; mind like a black board expunged in clean slate not
knowing what took place previously, but a remainder of white
choke dust still smeared around the perimeter. Luke felt the
similar sensation about the spanner in his pocket; a grasp of
vague content without solidity. Nothing necessary knocked out
Luke giving him a severe amnesia, except for the phrases
Genevieve bellow in French which seemed all Greek to Luke. He
tossed the spanner on to the desk in Genevieve room and toppled
back on the bed.
"I can't believe it's actually him Luke! Harold is here! He
follows us everywhere we go!" Luke removes the pillow off his
"Is that all you've been saying the whole time in your language?"
"Who cares? We got to chase him!" Genevieve vociferously
"How? He's running away from us, what's the point?" Luke
violently scratches his hair squinting both of the eye lids.
Noticing that Genevieve was not responding, Luke assumed his
uncooperative answer made her livid. Even after been treated cold
heatedly Genevieve's mind-set cared less, sustaining her own
personal value. She gawks at Luke, toddles to the closet eight
yards away on the other side on the room in steady footsteps and
opens the closet door painted in purple haze. Stepping on a round
oval carpet with a picture of custard colored fur kittens toying
on several pink netballs printed on it. As she stretched her body
to reach up the clothes suspended on the hangers she disparaged
"You are a plague! Do you ever agree with me? Have you become a
moral genius all the sudden? Fine! I don't need your assistance
since you think that you are more superior then me!" Genevieve
fiercely pulls out the pairs of clothes from the closet.
"Now, would you mind stepping outside for a while? I can't run
fast with this chapel dress on!"
"Are you legit telling me that you will trace down Harold alone?
Probing Harold is like capturing a fume with your bear hands.
Believe me; it's fleshly quoted from my own implicit."
The only thing conducted fume now was Genevieve's temper steaming
red hot, thought Luke. Genevieve clutched Luke by his arm and
heaved him out of the room gnashing her teeth. Luke slammed his
spine against the wall and again endorsed caveat to Genevieve.
"You sure got some guts…I understand your implacable attitude,
but you have no itinerary to find Harold it just simply doesn't
exist; his tactics are sinuous as the roots of a tree."
"That's great! You are really helpful! Now get out of my sight! I
need to change!"Well, this is not the first time to see you
naked… Luke formed a droll smile on his face and lolled down the
"Fine, whatever you say, but don't make me come looking for you…"
SHUT UP!!! A bellicose yell boomed across the stair case followed
with an additional slamming door. Later than, Genevieve
irritatingly rung down the stairs she zipped shut the drown gown
coat casing her slim body with golden earrings dangling on both
of her ears wearing high heel boots, inopportunely. "I tell ya,
you won't be able to run fast with those shoes…" just ahead when
Luke was finishing off his sentence Genevieve shrieks.
"You are full of shit! You know that Luke? Shit, that's what you
are, a sack of shit!!!"
As matter of fact, I am. Luke smirked when Genevieve got out of
the front door. I'm basically a man of hedonism; the world is run
by pain and gratification. Who is there to correct me anyway? How
can anyone tell me to repel from my fraudulent habit behind all
those years of trying to make a living out of it? I didn't
deserve to be who I am now just as any other people I met. If I'm
a sack of shit, than that's who I am.
The social-emotional conditions in me was taking a down drift as
I lived the life as a minority ended up in an incognito Asian
country as the result of both my parents being missionaries, I
had to stand for my own right in this nation where foreigners
were poorly treated dreaming one day would return to America. My
soul screamed for more in life, more…more…more oooooohhhh shit!!!
I screamed. For countless times, I committed faulty actions, but
my motive grew vicarious every moment feeling the thrill
traveling inside my chipper vivacious veins. Now, I am a wretched
scavenger; I scrape for food and shelters. For twelve years, I
waited and if I should wait any longer, I might as well kill
myself to cease my anguish once in for all.
Luke depressingly lollygagged up the stairs to pick up the phone
which he left on top of the desk just when the fight broke out
between Genevieve. He twisted the metallic silver door knob and
turns on the light in the room. Temporally glancing at the oval
carpet where she stood on; he searched for his phone. Just when
he was about to leave the room with his phone a gleam of light
reflected from an object on the desk attracted Luke's attention.
It was the spanner, right when Luke was about to shove the
spanner in his pocket Luke comes to a sense if this pseudonymous
tool might be a symbolization of Harold's current location or at
least his escaping routes from his threat. Aaron's Appliance Co.,
the point was obvious that such store didn't exist in Japan or in
any other country; it was minimally a code of a locality in Tokyo
specifically directed to Luke. Luke retained his information from
his past childhood in U.S.; sweeping the cold metallic exterior
of the gadget. It was those days, when Luke and Harold played
underneath the tree casting a colossal shadow with its branches.
Luke being the intelligence agent operating in the Pentagon
solving perplexes quandary cases in an investigation with gimmick
clues as leads to the mystery set up by Harold.
The name Aaron was his uncle's who owned a record shop back in
Arizona, any electrical devise could be qualified as appliance,
and the initial Co., which possibly stands for "Cool Ozzy" a
jargon that Harold coined in our preschool years which the
definition meant a certain place where we usually hang out. So
far, I got a record shop, an electrical devise, and a jargon. If
any of these combined symbols designates Harold's present site…
Luke scuttled down, grabbed his sweat shirt snatching off from
the coat hanger. Almost tripping on the door carpet he cursed
bombastically. Luke knew exactly where to find Harold.
"I'm really sorry Genevieve; I should have gone with you to this
atypical quest in order to finding someone we barely know, but
truly love with compassion."
Luke cried out bitterly inside his heart, cold as lead, blocked
up with hairlines from the past and rust from corruptions which