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Prologue
The world is nothing but a stage, and we are nothing but actors
in this play called life. I think Shakespeare said this, but
then again, I can never ever be too clear about quotes or who
said them. But then again, does it really matter? For repeating
quotes of wise dead men won’t make you seem smarter, but would
just make you appear as a foolish parrot, who is unable to think
up smart remarks himself, and resorts to the redundant
repeatances that makes computers not alive. For a man is an
individual, and because of that reason, he needs individual
philosophies, an original quote in this copying society.
“Motherfuck! Where the hell are we?!”
I guess that’s the only thing that’s separating us from
computers and robots, a brain that is able to reason for itself,
a soul that’s stuck in this shell of flesh and blood, a ghost
that is unable to escape into the Heavens above. Or is it the
other way, that the souls are able to go, but do not want to,
because they want this life on Earth, want to live as long as
they are able to, to see what their offsprings are able to do,
to surpass them in success and honor.
A flicker. Smells of cigarette smokes.
Or maybe life itself is all just a dream, and the butterfly
dreamt it was I, and ever since I had that dream, I couldn’t
tell if the butterfly was a dream, or that I was a dream of the
butterfly... Hmm... Who said those wise words, and are they
really true?
“Hey, Liang-Tang. Have we passed this place yet?”
“Don’t really know.”
“God damn it! Where the fuck is it?”
I shrugged my shoulders in the darkness of the night, my brown
eyes still staring out into the repeating patterns of the small
white houses on the road, a row of white blurs, one after
another, sometimes broken up by a railroad or two, all covered
by the blankets of darkness.
“Motherfuck.” Dad cursed once again, as he buried the cigarette
butt on the gray grave of the ashes. He lighted another
cigarette, refueling the nicotine that circulated his blood.
The little Hyundai moved through the narrow road, as clueless of
the destination as those dumb asses it was carrying. I wished
that something would happen, so that this repeating monotony can
be finally broken. I’m still waiting for UFOs to swoop down from
the skies and abduct us, and considering the crappy luck we’ve
had the whole day through, it might just happen.
Finally the continuing rows of little white houses were
interrupted by a bright gas station, it’s green light sign
shining like a lighthouse on the dark seashores. Dad saw it too,
his tired red eyes hypnotized by the shiny lights of the
station, just like a moth hypnotized by the light bulbs of the
street light posts, in those hot summer nights.
He pulled the little Hyundai under the green roofs, stopping in
front of the metal gas pumps. “Fill the tank, will ya?” Dad
said, as he suffocated the white smokes of the cigarette under
that ash sea of the car. “I’m going in to buy some cigarettes.”
“And some directions to go, right?”
“What did you say, boy?”
“Nothing. Just the sleep talkings of a slave whose mind is fried
by the exhaustion and heat.”
Dad gave me a weird look, before he slowly got out of the car.
“Just fill up the tank, will ya?”
“Yes, siree. That’s the only goal I have on this trashy world.
To be lost and fill your car tanks up. Whoopee.”
I slowly got out of the car, and plugged the gas supplier into
the hungry mouth of the gas tank, devouring the gas pee that’s
coming out of the pump. Yum, yum. Yeah, life is just great, you
eat dead plants and animal cadavers, so that you can poop them
out on a healthy daily hasps. Whoo-hah! Ain’t that worth living?
I don’t see those anti-abortionists protesting the killing of
the unborn chick, when we’re cooking eggs for our own
consumption. Sure, save the human fetus, and screw the rest of
the animal kingdom, right?
The clicking sound of the pump woke me up, as the tube stopped
its gas spillings into the car tank. I pulled it out and
replaced it on its holy sacred place, so that my dad was able to
pay for the holy service that it provided to us, to that
priestess and shrine watcher behind the counter. I yawned as I
headed back to the passenger door of the tiny car, a green
station wagon passing me carefully, afraid to hit me and have me
sue him for millions of dollars. The driver was a fat man in his
late thirties, a short red mustache pasted under his nose. His
green eyes scanned me as he passed, and I tried to scan him back
with my half-open eyes. I gave up after a second, trying to
conserve my remaining energy for the long night drive through
the silent hills.
I didn’t go back into the car, since my bloodshot eyes were
still stuck on that old beaten-up wagon. I think it was a Chevy,
I can’t remember it very clearly, since my vision was a little
blurry at the time. It stopped near the tire pumps, the red
light on its ass shining as bright as it can.
The door of the driver’s side opened immediately, just as soon
as the groaning engine was shut off of its misery. The guy got
out, wearing one of those stupid fishing hats, pink and
fluorescent yellow baits hooked on the rugged surface of the
spinach-color hat. The red-mustached man stretched, his mouth
open in a huge yawn, as his belly shook a little, just like
those green jellos they serve in our school’s cafeteria.
He scratched his butt, right after he ceased stretching, hoping
that the night will hide his actions from mankind. Yep, man
enough to scratch his butt in public. He didn’t do anything for
a while, but just stood there motionless, his eyes lazily
scanning the station in front of him.
The glass door to the store opened then, as dad slowly walked
out of it, a small white cigarette box in his right hand. He
placed the box slowly into his pant pockets, and then readjusted
the red baseball cap on his head. He looked around in confusion,
as cars came in and went out of the station. Dad spotted the
red-mustached man, and slowly approached him. “Come on, dad,
only an idiot will ask that fat man.” I said under my breath, my
eyes tiredly seeing his approach.
Dad greeted the man after seconds of hesitation, and asked him
something, most likely the way to the fishing spot. “Thanks for
the demonstration, dad.” I smiled, and shifted my eyes away from
them, not wanting to waste anymore energy on watching them.
I yawned once again, what a crappy and boring night this turned
out to be. And dad wonders why I hate-fishing so much. I don’t
hate fishing, I just hate the stupid stuffs you have to put up
with in order to fish. But I guess that’s what makes life so
hard, having to put up with other stupid stuffs in order to get
what you want.
Hmm? What’s that inside the wagon? I caught a glance of
something moving in there. Dad was still speaking with the wagon
owner, as I slowly approached the station wagon, pretending to
get closer just to call my dad. Something moved inside again, a
glance of something red.
“Oh, really?” I could hear dad’s voice now, as I got nearer and
nearer, my eyes staring at the window, curiosity controlling me
through a remote control. I blinked, my eyes trying to adjust to
the darkness of the shadows, the dim light sprinkling from the
stars.
That was when I saw her, the object that was inside the car, the
moving red target of my uncontrolled curiosity. That was when I
saw her for the first time, and she saw me at the same time. Her
green eyes seemed surprised at first, to turn around and see a
stranger staring at her, probably thinking that I was a pervert
stalker or something. I was embarrassed, I think, for I tried to
quickly turn my eyes away from her. But I couldn’t, for some
reason, I have no idea why.
She now seemed less surprised, her eyes still on me, and mine
still on hers. I wanted to apologize for sneaking up like that,
I wanted to say hi and ask her name, I wanted to give her a
friendly smile and calm her fear down. But I didn’t, no voice
wanted to escape my throat, no emotion wanting to show up on my
face. I just stood there, as a stupid dumb ass, staring at her.
Wonder how her hair smelled under summer rain, wonder how
beautiful she was when a smile graced her face... What was I
thinking? What the hell am I doing?...
“Hey, Tom!” I quickly turned around, just as soon as my dad’s
voice reached me. “Let’s go!”
“Be there.” I replied quickly, shyly turning away from the
red-haired girl. I rapidly ran toward the little Hyundai,
turning to catch just one more little glance of the girl, just
taking one more still frame of her in my mind. She was still
staring at me, through that open car window, through that
barrier that was between us.
“You ready to go?” Dad asked, just as soon as I went into the
door.
“Sure.” I tried to answer in my regular voice, in that cool and
uninterested voice of mine, to cover up the thumpings of my
heart. “Why shouldn’t I?”
“Okay.” Dad said in a singing voice, as he shifted the gears of
the car. “Let’s go!”
I just nodded, as I looked back once again, my head out of that
sealed-up vehicle, feeling the wind run through my dark-black
hair. The fat red-mustached man was slowly walking toward the
store now, and the girl was still sitting in that green Chevy
station wagon, her eyes still staring at me, still looking at
me. I was kind of embarrassed by my dad’s little car, since it
was hard to look cool with it in her view. I think I smiled, for
some weird reason, a reflection of my heart. I felt happy,
seeing her made me happy, seeing her eyes made me feel peaceful,
dreamy, a mirage in the desert of the darkness. Our eyes met
once, as my dad pulled out of the gas station, and I quickly
pulled away from her stare, shyly, scared of showing my true
feelings to her, to fall in love too fast, and then find out
that my love will not be returned, but rejected by a cruel laugh
from her lips.
My head came into the car after a while, her image no longer
seen in the white row of houses. “What were you looking at?” I
heard my dad ask curiously, adjusting the black-rimmed glasses
he had on.
“Huh? Oh, nothing.” I answered in my casual voice, acting
flawlessly in my normal behavior. “I thought I saw one of those
gold fur squirrels back there. You know, like the ones we saw at
uncle George’s garden?”
“Really?”
“Yeah, or at least I thought I saw one. But it turned out to be
only a snack wrapper.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.”
“Yeah, a little too bad.” |
