THE DELOREAN ARRIVED IN THE ‘FAMILIAR’ neighbourhood, where the house his father built stood tall and grand, among the rest of the average residence houses. Paul saw out of the cabin window – as was surprised to notice his diabetic amputee-neighbour who was on a wheelchair in his-Perth – was normal and walking…
… the old man named Mr Kiperman was watering his garden and looked up at the DeLorean, and-even waved at the gawking Paul.
“You-Beauty! Look at ‘our’ house, Poe – we have-now got a swimming pool too!”
… Peter’s cries distracted his twin-Paul… who saw the pool was-where their-once unkempt lawn was. There were 3 young-children of mixed-parentage, were swimming in the pool.
“Who ‘these’ neighbouring rug-rats swimming in ‘my’ pool?” Peter grunted.
Both the gull-winged doors opened upwards, and Peter stepped out of his car – Paul saw his twin swaggering over to the house. The children swimming were waving and acknowledging Peter, as he entered the front gate.
Paul noticed that the young-ones knew’ his teenaged-twin in ‘this’ realm, while he too followed Peter, to the front door. The kids left the pool, and the eldest boy was about 7, and his twin-siblings of a boy and girl were about 5-years of age… were running over…
Peter rang the doorbell twice and they waited. Paul noticed the BMW parked in the open-garage – where the ‘same’ car was totally wrecked in his-Perth, hit by a delivery truck…
The door opened with blonde-dyed hair Lola – who was looking-surprised at the visitors… who were the twins of Solomon Walker…
“Kamustaka-Lola, so you are cooking and cleaning in my father’s house-too – that is good to be hard-working, because those-Wilsons might-have paid you pennies, out of their fat-dollar. Yea, my father is way-more generous than them.”
“WHAT-DID YOU JUST-SAY!!!” The angered Lola yelled-out.
Her shouts attracted Solomon Walker – who was inside, working in his study-office. The sight of the man, who was the VERSION OF HIS DEAD-FATHER – had taken aback, at both the twins, as they stepped back… like-looking at a ghost…
“WHAT’S GOING ON HERE!!?”
“Sol, Peter had just INSULTED ME – that I’m a domestic-servant!” Said the Filipina…
… and rambling further-curses in her native-Tagalog language. The agitated man came-out the door and pointed at Peter…
“How dare you come over here… and say-such RACIST THINGS TO MY WIFE and my family!!!”
Peter replied…
“Splendid Dad, you got married too – congratulations! Over-there, Mom too got married to that Agent-Dick Dickson…and, good thing you kept ‘our’ house – coz’ they both might Ponzi scheme to sell it, for a profit.”
Paul tapped his twin’s shoulder when he was talking-his ‘nonsense’ – before the man then-yelled out…
“Peter, why are YOU HERE? WHAT DO you want?”
“I’m here to collect my tennis-racquet, in my room – the one you bought for my birthday which I won the school juniors’ championship, where I even heard you – shout to support me … ‘Go, Gemini-Go!’ in the grandstand, when I lifted the trophy in the podium, in your-name … and made you proud…”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“What ridiculousness is this? I remember WASTING MY-MONEY buying that racquet but you were the LAZY-BONE NEVER train and use it – and now you are saying you had-won an imaginary-competition with it, and you even had a FANTASY-THAT I WAS THERE TOO. Are you still doing drugs?”
“No-Dad, I won the school-juniors before the ‘accident’ – my racquet is in my room, I will prove it to you!”
The moment Peter mentioned the ‘accident’ – Paul felt that he was MIXING-BOTH REALITIES – as teen-Peter was ‘not’ in involved at any accidents-in this world realm.
Paul held his twin shoulder… and Peter shrugged it-off – Solomon pushed his chest-back when he tried to enter the front door…
“Oii! Do ‘NOT’ ENTER MY-HOUSE, you drug-addict junkie – you might steal stuff-here!”
“Peter, let’s go to school…” Paul urged him.
“No, I want my Babolat – ITS MY WEAPON-OF-CHOICE – IT’S IN THERE in my room-upstairs!”
Lola was scared when Peter got-aggressive – and she shielded her children who were dripping wet in their bathers.
“Hey you, it’s been 7 years since I divorced your bloody mother – there is NO-YOUR BLOODY ROOM in here, in my-house any-more! Whatever junk you 3 had left behind had been thrown away ever-since the-divorce! Now GET OUT OF HERE, you both trouble-makers!”
’No-not’ without MY BABOLAT!”
Then the 7-year-old stepbrother spoke…
“Dad! Dad-I think I saw a tennis racquet in the garage – let-me go fetch it…”
The boy then ran-over and returned with an old-racquet with broken strings – he handed it over to Peter who quietly took it, without thanking…
“Dad, can Peter stay with us – I can share my-room with him – I want a big brother, Dad.”
“NO-Ryan! I don’t want him in our house! You might turn into a drug-addict like-him some-day – and if-it happens, I will throw YOU OUT-OFF OF MY HOUSE TOO!
“NO-sons of mine with my-bitch former wife are welcomed here – BOTH OF YOU GET OUT of my face before I call the cops!!!”
The rage was building in Peter, as stared-bitter at his father of this-realm – Paul noticed he was holding a racquet, in his left-dominant hand – and he ‘knew’ what his twin was capable of…
… Paul held his twin left-hand, and dragged him away…
“Come, Peter – let’s go ‘now’…”
“Bye, Paul – bye Peter!” Ryan called out…
… to both to his step-brothers, as they left the compound of the Walker-House, heading towards their gull-winged car.
In a ventilating-state, Peter saw the old-neighbour Kiperman watering the plants, who-was gawking at what had happened, a moment ago. Peter shouted a threat at him, pointing his Babolat over…
“What you-bloody looking at? I will BREAK YOUR LEGS, and put you in a wheelchair!”
The twins got into the car – with the passive-Paul hand-gestured and apologized softly at the neighbour before he shut the gull-winged door – the old-man did ‘not’ respond… as turn his back on the car with the delinquent teenagers, to continue watering his lawn.
Peter started the car-ignition and blasted AccaDacaa full-volume and revved the car, for the whole neighbourhood to acknowledge his ‘presence.’ The vocals of Bon Scott screeched ‘I’m on a Highway to Hell’ on the car-stereo, as the DeLorean left burnt tire-marks as Peter ‘MARKED’ HIS-TERRITORY – before speeding-away.
He drove reckless and dangerously on the narrow roads out of residence area, with the terrified Paul sitting beside him, praying they both wouldn’t be in-any tragic accident, and be-crippled-too in this realm, which was ‘not’ theirs…
“Peter, get a hold of yourself… please… calm down…you might get the-both of us-killed!”
But the warning did ‘not’ take-heed – as the other-twin stepped-on the pedal, for more speed… as Peter was punching-hard on the steering wheel and cursing vulgarity. Soon the DeLorean slowed down-to a halt, as Paul saw Peter breaking down and sobbing-aloud…
"Why-Dad… why have you… forsaken-me…why-did you stop… loving-me…?”
Paul sat quiet, as he sighed and observing his twin suffering in emotional lament, as Peter’s head was resting on the wheel. After 2 minutes, he tapped Peter’s shoulder genteelly…
“Come on, mate… let’s go to school, yea…?”