The Boy with No Name

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
A boy without a name meets a man with questions. Why, to both?

Submitted: June 16, 2017

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Submitted: June 16, 2017

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On a very busy boulevard, in a very large and heavily populated city, and well dressed man is seen standing in front of one handsomely decorated restaurant. The name on the restaurant sign reads, Ameal's.

After a short time a few young boys venture along the boulevard, sometimes looking in trash dumpsters.

Creeeeeek, the trash bin opens. "Nothing here," one boy says to another while pocking around with a stick. The lid slams down. --- BAM!

Suddenly the man calls out to them. "Boys, you --- boys, come here!"

BizzZZzzzzzzzzzzzz, a Moped zips by with three people precariously perched on two seats.

"We were not doing anything illegal sir," one boy said as they drew near the man.

"That is not why I called you over. What are your names?"

One boy answered, “My name is Vishram sir.”

Another answered, “Birju,” the third answered, Zola, and the last said, "I have no name sir."

The man got the strangest looking smile on his face and said, "That is ridiculous, everyone has a name. Now what is it?"

"No sir, honest," replied the boy, "I have no name. My parents died when I was an infant and I was raised by an uncle who had 12 children. He often could not remember the names of all his children so it was no worry to me that he called me Hay, Hay You, or just Boy."

"Didn't your Uncle's children call you by your name?" The man asked while still smiling.

"Oh, they called me by all sorts of names because they did not know the name my parents had given me, but none of those names were my name," the boy responded.

So the man gave each boy a coin for their trouble and sent them on their way. However, he asked the boy with no name to stay because he had further questions.

"Are you telling me the truth about not having a name, or is it that you do not want your friends to know what your name really is? Maybe it is an embarrassing name, is that it?" questioned the man.

"I swear on the most holy things, sir, I know of no name that belongs to me," the boy replied with a hint of tears coming to his eyes.

The man replied, "Well, none the less --- ah --- son, I need a runner for my restaurant.

People all along this boulevard call me and want food delivered to their businesses. The packages can be heavy at times, other times they are just a few sandwiches and are very light. Do you want to try out for the job?"

"Oh yes sir! I am in need of employment, thank you sir, thank you."

Then the man grew very serious and said, "Understand this, you are just trying out for this position. If you are not suitable then I will have to replace you with someone else. Is that clear?"

"Oh yes sir, I will work very hard. I will run with every delivery, I am very fast, sir."

To which the man replied, "I will be the judge of that and we will see what we will see. Now here is your coin, come back here tomorrow morning at seven, do not be late," the man said as he turned and walked into the restaurant.

And as the man walked away the boy called after him, "Oh yes sir, I will be here even before seven. Thank you sir, thank you!

 

(The next morning.)

 

"Where is that boy? It is ten minutes before seven and I do not see him on the boulevard."

"I am behind you sir. I slept behind your trash dumpster so I would not be late. And I am not late. Do you have food for me to deliver sir?"

"Yes, but go wash your hands and face in my public bathroom before you go. I do not want my customers thinking that I hire street boys to bring their food. You are not a street boy, are you? The man asked, but the look on his face said that he already knew the answer to that question.

"It is true sir, I am." The boy replied.

Beeeeep, beep, honk! A tiny Fiat and a Honda Civic were passing and seemed to want to occupy the same spot on the street, at the same time.

After they passed the boy explained, "When my uncle died, his children were taken by other family members, but I was not. They said that I was old enough to work so they turned me out."

"I see," said the man, well get yourself cleaned up and do not make a mess in my bathroom. Do you understand?" 

"Yes sir, right away," the boy stated, "and that bathroom will be cleaner when I leave it than when I first entered."

The man smiled and said, "We will see what we will see. Now go, and do it quickly!"

The boy disappeared into the resturant.

The man watched as the boy scurried along the boulevard, artfully jogging around this, and weaving through that, while skillfully making his way passed the hustle and bushel that was the center of town.

BizzZZzzzzzzzzzzzz, Ting, Ting, Beeeeep, beep, honk!

The days drifted into months and the months folded into years, and during that time the man had taught the boy all he knew about running a restaurant. And the boy had learned some good things on his own.

The boy, now a man, was taught the correct methods of cleaning the dishes and busing the tables. He was taught how to be a proper waiter and then learned the fine art of being a chef. Lastly he was taught the proper way to manage the business and the books.

The man, now quite old, called his young understudy and asked him to come to his home for a meeting.

Knock, knock, came the sound on the door. Knock, knock, --- knock, knock.

"Yes, yes, I am coming!" the old man half yelled.

The door is opened and the man says, "Ah, it is you my boy. Come in, come in! --- Please have a seat at the table, I have something for you."

The old man took a wooden box from a shelf and set it on the table, then he seated himself.

He opened the box and took out five photographs and spread them out before the young man.

"These are our predecessors, our mentors. The one here, he was the first; you will find numbers on the back of each photograph depicting the order at which they came. Oh and here is my photograph with the number six on the back, you are to be number seven.

But I have gotten ahead of myself, let me explain. I am old and would like to spend my final days by the seashore, so I am retiring to a place that I have purchased.

In this box is kept the deed to the restaurant, a letter telling of the story, and the pictures of the men that took the name of the restaurant as their own name. I am Mr. Ameal and tomorrow you will take my place and become Mr. Ameal. You will, at last, have a name that you own because you now own that restaurant and it will be your name-sake too.

All seven of us were boys with no names.

 

D. Thurmond / JEF  --- 06-16-2017


© Copyright 2017 D. Thurmond, aka, JEF. All rights reserved.

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