Chapter 14 [ii]: Sunday Dinner with Principal Harris
Into 10-minutes in his-room, Paul was having carb-coma and was drowsy – he set the-alarm clock to take-a-quick power-nap… as he-too hadn’t recovered-fully from his-fever… and, sleeping an-hour…
Paul was THE FIRST in the-Walker household to-be ready for the Sunday-dinner when he showered-and-wore his Sunday-best @5:30 – and-then sat at his-desk and revised for his MIDTERM…
… where he had the toughest papers on Wednesday of – Math, Chemistry and History…
… he was GLAD THAT Jane-and-Boyyo ‘revised’ Math with him-earlier – now, it’s up to him to remember chemical-formulas and processes… and historical-dates and-events…
His mind was in storytelling mode when he memorized events of the Australian-History – until he heard the catering-van at the front-gate. Paul looked at the time – 6:47 PM…
… then sounds of activities in the dining-area, with-the gleeful-voiced Caroline talking to the country-club’s staff setting-up the dinner on the table – Paul didn’t want-go out ‘yet’…
… but he DID SO IN the past-3-occations of Sunday-dinner with Principal-Harris during the 2-month Zombie-epidemic lockdown. The 2 Country-Club staff had ‘seen’ the wide-smiling chubby-boy on his wheelchair ‘trice’ before… with his eager to-eat face, waiting to devour-and-wolf the fine-dining-feast …
Paul was steadfast-firm to ‘remain’ in his-room… until Caroline ‘summoned’ him-out… and, in the waiting his stomach growled like a muffled-chainsaw ‘when’ he smelled steaks…
… he was-then salivating with the thought of eating-meat – ‘knowing-that’ his sore-throat had healed-enough to swallow-steak…
The Green-light from the-outside then-came at 6:58 – when he heard Caroline calling him-out…
“Poeee… are you readyy…!?”
He closed his history-textbook… and opened his room-door… he didn’t see HIS-MOTHER but his ‘glowing-red’ devil-twin – dressed in his-Sunday-best, ‘already’ seated at the-IKEA table, texting in his iPhone…
… Paul recalled Peter WHO ‘HAD’ created a fuss in the last-dinner with Principal-Harris because he was ‘sick’ that-Sunday… and wanted-Caroline’s attention to serve his-medical needs-and-wants… ‘while’ she rather-be dining the high-end Country-Club feast, as a family in the ‘presence’ of her-boyfriend, Tom…
Peter was busy-texting on the set-table with food. Paul went ‘un-noticeable’ from his-peripheral – then-wheelchairing to the living-room, where he found-her at the main-door as the same-time as-a black Mercedes was-heard parking at the front-gate…
From the rear-of the living-room, he heard Caroline cautioning her-beau…
“… careful-dear… the walkway is slippery…”
Paul realised ‘what’ his-mother ‘meant’ – that after the flood-water had receded at the front-yard all-morning – but-it-left a thin-layer of mud that sleeted the-walkway…
From-behind in the-shadows, he saw the Principal Harris at the door with a bottle-of-Rossa, with Caroline-then apologising-of ‘inviting’ him-over when the house was in-a-mess ‘after’ the-flood –Tom-then replied that he ‘understood’ her situation – as a single-mother in-care of 2 handicapped-sons…
… that she can’t be-everywhere, DOING-EVERYTHING…
Paul left before they ‘saw’ him… at the-precise ‘moment’ when they-kissed at the door – as the teen was-wheelchairing-away to the dining-area. And, noticing-also, that the still busy texting-Peter had played ‘musical-chairs,’ as he was sitting in ‘their’ late-father’s chair at the HEAD-OF the dining-table… that Caroline had ‘reserved’ for her-boyfriend…
He ‘knew’ what the Troublemaker WAS-DOING…
“… Boyss – Tom is here…”
Principal Harris walked-in with his-hand on-Caroline’s hip – as the-adults walked-in as a couple. Peter was first to greet the headmaster, when he put his-iPhone away and stood-upright and saying…
“A good’ day-and-a good evening-too to you, Principal Harris – I welcome YOU ‘INTO’ my-family, ‘under’ the-roof of my late-father’s house… and, I’m honoured by your-kind generosity-too by providing-us this Country-Club feast for this-evening – we, the Walker-household ‘thank-you’…” Peter bowed…
Paul’s jawdropped when he saw his-devil-twin’s powerplay TO SET boundaries to their mother’s boyfriend – that he’s the ‘head’ of the Walker-family, NOW-THAT… the house-deed WAS IN the eldest-son’s name…
From his wheelchair, Paul saw his mother speechless-too…
Tom came forward and shook Peter’s hand…
“You’re welcome, Peter – always a pleasure to dine-Sundays with Carol and her 2 fine-sons… let’s eat before-the food gets cold…” The-principal said, and patting Peter on-the-back, so SIT ON his-father’s chair…
Caroline-then guided Tom to-sit in her-chair…
… the mother was so-annoyed that Peter HAD CHANGED the dynamics-of-her dinning ‘sitting-arrangements’ – where the adults faced-each-other while superseding a watchful-eye ‘over’ the-antagonistic twins’ behaviours, who looked at each-other at the-table…
The mother removed one of the IKEA-chair for Paul. He saw his-principal smiling at-him, saying while pouring 4-glasses of red-wine…
“… come-over, Paul – you ‘must-be’ hungry… its past ‘your’ dinner time…”
The quadriplegic-teen then ‘realised’ that he HAD FORGOTTEN to greet Principal-Harris just-now while his-attentions were wrapped-up with the-devil-twin’s powerplay-drama – but Paul made an-excuse by-pointing to his-mouth to-indicate the sore-throat… the smiling-Tom nodded to-him…
Paul wheelchaired to the table and he saw Caroline heading to the food-warmer to get hot-soup appetisers. They saw her wearing-mittens and carrying a tray of a-variety of tomato-soup and Mulligatawny-soup. Both the twins ‘got’ the tomato-soup, while the adults had the turmeric-spiced Indian clear-soup… Tom made small-talk…
“… drink-up, boys – hot-soups warm-up our-bodies during rainy weather…”
… Peter who was ‘not’ fond-of-soups – as he’s a high-protein dietary-guy, who-wanted to go to the main-course OF STEAK… he looked at the adults’ soup in-disgust…
“Eww… is that a soup-or-curry? Its yellow like-it has Jaundice… does it come with a ‘health-label-warning…?”
“Peter! Don’t be-crude and racist... and stop TALKING UTTER-NONSENSE at the-table – just ‘shut-up’ and drink your-soup!” Caroline countered her disobedient elder-born son… who-was chuckling at his-own jokes…
Paul looked over at his-mother’s bowl of the Mulligatawny-soup… that seemed ‘fine’ to him – even-though he had ‘not’ tasted the Indian-soup before…
‘… looks like yesterday’s Minestrone soup with veg… instead of red, it’s yellow – probably-made by yellow curry-powder…’
The gentleman-Godzilla-Paul continued to drink the soup in-caution… without ‘messy-spills,’ using the Country-Club napkin to wipe both his-mouth and-the table-cloth for droplets. He was listening Tom-and-Carols’ table-conversations of severe floods in Perth-city – saying that it WAS THE effect of the climate change in the worldwide global-warming…
… the quiet-Paul sighed… as he ‘begged’ to-differ…
‘…noo… it’s that failed GOE-mission – where that Metatron dropped the ‘nuke’ in the garden-Paradise that killed plants-animals-dinosaurs. This is the ‘aftereffect’ repercussions where earth’s mother-nature is ‘getting’ sicker when further-hit by natural-disasters…’
Midway through the soup, Caroline got-up – to get 2-bowls of salad and braised-beans from the kitchen marble-top counter. When she returned, the adults-then ‘each’ had their-salad and continued the flood-conversation…
… while the-twins had-to ‘wait’ for the steak main-course…
Peter took-out his iPhone to check-messages – Caroline ‘caught’ him…
“Peter! NO-phones at the dinner-table!”
“… well, I’m finished with the-soup… a long-long-long time ago… in a galaxy far-far away…”
The mother saw Peter’s ¾-EMPTY tomato-soup bowl… and eyeballed-him and she got-up and walked to the hot-food warmer…
… she was annoyed that Peter who-doesn’t get-to-know the concept of fine-dining – by the way he ate fast… the Sunday-dinner engagement would-be over in the ‘next’ 30-minutes…
Paul too was surprised that the devil had ‘drank’ a fair-amount of any ‘given’ soup – and realised that Peter ‘DID-SO’ – as he ‘was’ trying to ‘get’ into Principal Harris’ good-books in that-evening…
Everyone saw Caroline with-mittens carrying 2 hot-plates of steaks… as she walked in her high-heels to the IKEA-table. The moment Paul saw the juicy-steak… he had a food-gasm…
She served her boyfriend first cos’ he’s the-guest of the evening… and next her devil-son – Paul anticipated his fair-share of his-steak… as he saw the mother going-back to the food-warmer…
… he blew-air from his-nostrils to ‘mask’ his-chuckles – seeing his 30-something-of aged mother’s catwalk swag in her-high heels and pretty-black dress for her-boyfriend to ‘admire’ her ‘rear,’ on that Sunday-evening…
… while for the rest of the days, Paul saw his mother wearing flat-heel shoes… whether at home or work, as the inspector-Of-Perth… but on-Sundays – Paul ‘saw’ a different side-of-HER…
‘… Mom, you’re born Leo-the-lioness – and, you ‘still’ HAVE IT in-you… you’ve ‘moved’ on after the 3-years, since the BMW-tragic road accident – and, if you ‘feel’ Tom is the right-man… I’m happy for-you…
‘… but please-please-please, Mom, serve my steak-fast – ‘before’ my stomach imploded embarrassing sounds at the table…’
… he heard on his-left, of the-devil’s steak-knife cutting-meat while holding-firm his-fork with his cyborg arm which-was grinding the chinaware plate… while Peter made loud smacking-chews sounds-as he ate and enjoyed his steak. The principal too after ‘accompanying’ Caroline’s vegan soups-and-salad appetizer – had opted for a meal-of-Tenderloin steak for the main-course…
FINALLY… Caroline brought-over his hot-plate – Paul’s heart totally-sank when it was a plate of braised-Cod fish with creamy-butter sauce…
‘… why am I eating fish like-Jesus…? I WANT MY ‘bloodied’ juicy-steak…!’
Paul heard his mother’s commentary…
“… since you have sore throat – I told Tom to get you food-menu that go-easy in-swallowing … and, Tom ‘recommended’ fish…”
‘… that was this-morning my-throat ‘hurt’… it’s ‘NOW’ HEALED – raring to ‘eat’ some Sunday-evening steak…’
Nevertheless, Paul faked’ a smile to Principle-Harris and gave him a thumbs-up for-the-recommendation. The man reciprocated-back by responding…
“… GET-WELL SOON, Paul – your midterm exams are ‘next’ week…”
Paul nodded and did ‘not’ make further eye-contact… so that, the principal wouldn’t ask ANY-MORE about his-studies – and, feeling-too ‘the-guilt’ of giving-up in-his-life – the-moment he was ‘separated’ from Jane ‘after’ his transfer to B-Class…
… in silence, he ‘pretended’ to eat-his-fish – and, was-glad that the-quietness was ‘not’ DISRUPTED BY the noise of his devil-twin – that hogged for Tom-Harris’ attention… while Peter bragged…
“Principal-H, my greatest accomplishment for this midterm was TO BALANCE my-tennis life with hard court-practises – and coupled with my-school life by studying-hard too… with the coaching of-course by my-AI device…
“… I’m confident that I’LL BE TOP-5 in the ‘coming’ midterm-papers in ‘my’ A-Class – even-mom had-promised that I’ll get the key-to the-upstairs loft-guestroom if I’m 5th-boy…”
Caroline loudly-protested to the devilish-chuckling Peter…
“OII! I did ‘not’ make any-SUCH PROMISES!”
“You did-so this morning, remember, hehehe…? We-even ‘placed’ a $1,000-bet… hehehe…” Peter teased…
“STOP IT with your gambling-and-betting mentality – it’s a crime for minors to be engaging with these illegal-activities…” The inspector-mother warned…
… Peter was laughing-aloud solo at the IKEA-table…
In his wheelchair, Paul ignored the table argument-and-bantering as he was into-his-fish… where he had finished-half of the-fleshy filleted-cod meat – and had a white-meat-gasm…
… where, he totally-agreed that Tom’s recommendation-of-fish was ‘smooth-to’ his sore-throat’s swallowing… and felt ‘umami-explosion’ in the-ingesting process – and he-then food-critiqued…
‘… the-devil is in-the creamy-rich buttermilk sauce… I wished the stingy-Country Club gave-ME ‘MORE’ of the-sauce… and I’ll lick-the-plate off-clean – I wished they gave-me a bowl of the creamy butter-sauce… and I’ll drink-it like soup…’
… his foodie-fantasy ‘poofed’ by Tom calling-him…
“Paul, how’re ‘doing’ in Mrs________’s class…?”
… Paul lied and croaked a-one-word answer in his-raspy voice…
“… fine…”
… he looked below their-eye level… and went-on into ‘pretending’ to eat – but he felt-guilty of his-bold faced lie which-he ‘told’ in front of Tom-and-Carol in-their faces – and, the ‘TRUTH’ WAS-that, he DIDN’T STUDY at-all in the ‘new’ classroom…
… he recalled the ‘slap’ he got for telling THE ‘TRUTH’ in the principal’s office… as the judge-jury-executioner ‘adults’ have-mistrusted him and came to the ‘conclusion’ that he ‘had’ sex-with-Jane @the SHS’ Family-Day beach-outing – where consequential, the-problematic of a fake-video derived ‘out-of-nowhere,’ 2-months-later…
“You’ll do ‘fine,’ Paul… it’s ‘only’ been 2-weeks ago, since you transferred-over – you’ll pick-up the pace and ‘ace’ in-the midterms…” Tom encouraged…
… Paul responded with a nod and signed a-thumbs-up. He saw the grinning-devil joining the-conversation…
“If I can’t be #1 in Mrs ____ ‘s B-Class – I’ll hang myself, hahaha!”
Caroline shouted at him…
“SHUT-UP, Peter! Don’t be arrogant and think you’re super-smart – remember, last-year… you were at the bottom-of-the class… the ‘last’ boy – and, everyone laughed-at-you!”
Peter-kept laughing and-bantered-back…
“Hahaha! That’s ‘right,’ Mom – but look at the ‘changes-and-improvements’ I had undergone since then – my-AI ‘coached-me’ to be in the middle-tier my-results of last-term – and I’m confident that I’ll be the TOP-5 in class ‘after’ the midterm…”
“… don’t talk – and-prove it…” Caroline disputed…
“… Challenge-accepted! I’ll prove to you-of-my worthy, Mom – since you have the-tendency to pick-and-back the ‘loser’ horse at the-races… namely, THE-ONE in the-B-Class, hehehe…” The devil-twin chuckled…
The adults were speechless after-hearing the blatant ‘claims’ of Peter… while his twin on the wheelchair was emotionally-raged-too ‘when’ the-devil called him a ‘loser’ – but Paul remained calm at the 2-EXTREMES…
* … the ‘worst’ was – he levitated at the table in front of Tom-and-Carol – and unleash his electro-supe powers… and blast the devil’s ‘bigmouth,’ sending-Peter’s head exploding like a melon… to paint the-walls ‘red’
* … the ‘safest’ was – he argue-back at the table in front of Tom-and-Carol – at his arrogant-and-egoistic antagonistic-twin…
…which might ‘blow’ his-sore-throat cover – as his ‘coverup’ TO ‘NOT’ HAVE-any conversations… in that-Sunday evening dinner
Paul chose the latter-extreme of ‘not’ blowing his sore-throat cover, as his medical-faking of ‘losing-his-voice’ had worked all-evening – so he KEPT QUIET…
… wearing his thick-skin outside, to the humiliation he ‘had’ faced in-front of his principal-and-mother – who-too were being quiet to ‘respond’ back-to Peter’s bullying…
… the crippled-teen ‘chose’ to ignore his altercating-twin… and went-back eating-his-fish…
But his anger was still-there– as he stabbed-hard the-knife at-the soft-textured cod-fish. He was the noisiest-eater at the table with the clanking-chinaware by the metal-cutleries. Paul was self-aware that he was eating-sloppy… and he-then slowed down – ‘not’ wanting to make a Godzilla-mess…
… the frustrations of the cod-fish was ‘broken-up’ in delicate-bits in the butter-sauce… and, Paul had difficulty to properly-scoop to eat – just like the delicate Chinatown dim sums that ‘fell-off’ – when he ‘struggled’ to eat with chopsticks…
… he-then used his-fork to genteelly scoop the fine-bits of the delicious-fish… and Paul ate quietly-and-graciously with-the ‘pace’ of the fine-dining Tom-and-Carol…
Peter was waiting for ‘their’ comebacks – and was annoyed that they were ignoring-him with their slow-loris mode-of-eating. He had finished his-streak and tooth-picking, in the slow-long wait for dessert to-be-served…
His iPhone in his-pants vibrated an incoming notification. Peter pulled-out his-phone with his-black robotic-hand… and publicly-displaying the device at the ignoring-adults – with their ‘mediocre rules of no-phone ‘during-dinnertime…
… because Peter ‘DON’T’ CARE…
It was ‘good-news’ from his best-mate, Ken Chan – who texted that it was all-go for using the Edith-imitation device – as KC had found a pair-of-coaches – who would be the-Whisperers AT THE-other-end… ‘feeding’ him the ‘correct’ answers during the midterm-papers…
… he chuckled to the irony that he was-about to SOON-CARRY out a high-tech ‘Cheat’ heist… in the-now presence-of his unsuspecting EVENING-GUEST – the headmaster of Stamford-High, PRINCIPAL THOMAS-Harris…
‘… you, old-timer – ‘mediocre’ man of the Encino-Age… I’ve ‘changed’ MY-MIND – I will be # 1 in THE A-CLASS, hehehe…’
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
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They had ice-cream for dessert – a ‘new’ flavour that Paul haven’t tasted-of… strawberry ice-cream with nectarine-peach – it was sweet-sour and he liked-it…
The next-table conversation which Caroline brought-UP WAS the Holy-Confirmation next week – where the bishop would-officiate the ceremony in St Michael’s church. The ‘busy-minded’ Paul had totally HAD FORGOTTEN all-about his Catholic-duties to transcend into a ‘true’ Christian-youth…
… where he had ‘shut’ himself-up completely from HIS ‘BAD-LUCK’ and problematic realities in POST-TREETON – ever-since his-transfer TO B-CLASS… of spending a fortnight of ‘escapism-time’ when home-alone – of ‘BEING’ ‘PRESENT’ in-the reality of VR world… PLAYING NINTENDO’s Ghostbusters…
Paul felt that he needly ‘changes’ in-himself after discovering his ‘ambition’ of being an architect – now, needing A ‘PURPOSE to organise-and-discipline his life. His ‘new’ desire-Of-life began since the Fall-Of-The Garden-Of-Eden’s failed-mission à where his ‘next-step’ was to – level-up for the upcoming PERTHLAND-mission… to ‘destroy’ the Apocalyptic-portal in the Blake-Tower…
Caroline went into her inspector-mother ‘lecture’… that ‘after’ their Holy-Confirmation – the twins should behave as law-abiding Christian-youth citizens who-were on the side-of-the law and ‘not’ swayed in the life-Of-crime…
… the-twins both had listened to that ‘same-lecture’ before through-out their lives… but this-time sugar-coated with ‘urgency’ that they were young-Christian-men. Peter rolled his eyes, and continued eating ice-cream…and ignored her police-decree. Even the tipsy from half-glass of Rosso, Paul was ‘arrogant’…
‘… O’ please… I know how to ‘behave,’ Mom… am I ‘not’ the supe-Guardian-angel-Of-Perth…?’
… he sighed…
… on top of that – Paul had ‘only’ 3-days more to mug-for his midterms next-Wednesday… and, at the background of his-mind lie the-mother-of All-Problems – which-was preggo-Jane’s belly-bun fully-baked to-be a minor-aged mother herself…
While researching about Jane’s pregnancy online, Paul came-across a Vanity-Fair magazine cover, which featured the-nude American-actress, Demi Moore standing sideways, with-one hand splayed around a breast, another cupping her-7-months-pregnant belly…
… his thoughts were-then ‘poofed’…
“Poe! Have you ‘chosen’ your confirmation-name…?” Caroline asked Paul…
Peter intervened…
“Hey! I’m the eldest-here, Mom – ASK ME FIRST! Anyways, my middle-name would be ‘Solomon’… doing right by-him as I’m the firstborn-Walker in this-household – RIP-Dad, Amen…” The-devil made the sign-Of-the Cross…
Caroline nodded and-then looked-again at Paul’s face…
“… well, Poe…?”
He was tongue-tied with a ‘dropped’ jaw… realising that the only-name in his ‘wish-list’ had BEEN ‘TAKEN’ – he ‘felt’ a vow of taking ‘Solomon’ as his middle-name…
…as his intended future-ambition was the one-of-carrying on the-legacy of his-late-father’s architecture-career – and, he even-had ‘rescued’ his father’s books-and-life-works in the flood…
‘… you bloody-devil… I went under filthy-sewer flood-water to ‘save’ dad’s works – and here-you ‘are’ denying me dad’s name – just-bloody cos’ of your ‘firstborn’ entitlement…’
Paul was still speechless, with the adults ‘watching’ him… while he was thinking-fast of a name… Peter intervened ‘again’ by mocking…
“Poe, how about ‘Tarzan,’ hahaha!!!”
He looked at his-mom’s annoyed face of what the-devil suggested, but didn’t tick-him off… Paul noticed-too that Tom’s face was ‘bemused’ by-Peter’s witticism…
… neither the man laughed-nor-chuckled… but his-eyes ‘sparkled’… smiling…
‘… what’s SO-FUNNY, Principal-Tom…? You smirked when you heard ‘Tarzan – ‘which’ Tarzan WAS-IT…? Is it the one that you organized that Mayor’s Bravery-award-to…? OR THE Tarzan in the deep-fake-video – who was slapped-hard in your-office, 2 weeks-ago…?’
He looked blank at-Caroline – it’s been 5-seconds – he had to-stab in the-dark and come-up ‘fast’ with a ‘generic’ first-name from the tip-of-his tongue…
… his raspy-voice said…
“… Anthony…”
… hearing the devil chuckling-hard – that the name-choice was mediocre…
Paul looked at his-mother’s face smiling-of-approval. He then heard Caroline saying aloud both the twin-sons’ full-names…
“… Peter ‘Salomon’ Walker… and – Paul ‘Anthony’ Walker…”
They saw Tom clapping at the table – and-then everyone ‘proceeded’ to eat their ice-cream dessert…
Paul took a liking to his impromptu-name choice of Anthony… it sounded cool and ‘Mafia’ bad-ass like of the Italian-mobsters… Anthony-Soprano… and, Anthony Corleone …
… he was thinking of ‘other’ famous-Anthony(s)…
‘… the leader of Ant-Man’s Army – is his carpenter-ant and loyal-steed, Ant-thony. Then, Iron-Man is Tony-Stark… and…’
He-then scooped a large spoon of ice-cream and swallowed – to get ‘brain-freeze’…
… as he-then thought of his girlfriend…
‘… huh… Jane’s father is an-Anthony-too…’
… and further-thought…
‘… I wish I can ‘INVITE’ YOU-Jane to my-Confirmation at St Mike’s – but you’ll get into ‘trouble’ if your-daddy finds out… furthermore, he’s an-atheist…’
Paul sighed to himself… but soon-was smiling again when he recalled Jane ‘also’ saying-then… that she would have a white-wedding ‘after’ they-graduate – marrying Paul at the-altar of St Michael’s church…
His active-fantasy imaginations derived-from the half-glass-of-Russo were interrupted – by Caroline’s voice…
“Boys, have you decided ‘who’ are YOUR-SPONSORS for the Holy-Confirmation…?”
… Paul knew what she meant by ‘sponsor’ – who was A ‘PERSON’ offering his/her-personal spiritual-guardiancy and moral-support TO THE ‘confirmed’ individual…
Peter raised his-hand, saying…
“Whoa! As your firstborn, Mom… let me go ‘first’ – as my spiritual-sponsor, I ‘choose’ you, Principal Harris to provide me guardiancies-and-leadership quality. I trust you can do the ‘duty’ as you’re a great-principal yourself, who is ‘fair-and-just’… divine-virtues qualities of a ‘true’ Christian-leader…
“… furthermore, I trust you even ‘more’ as you’re THE ‘BOYFRIEND’ of ‘finest’ Inspector-Of-Perth… I think she’s ‘into’ you too, hehehe – O’ Principal, why ‘not’ you make her your Mrs-Harris – and take ‘your-lovely-bride’ away from my-father’s house…!”
“I’m ‘NOT’ GOING anywhere, you-fool! You’re ‘stuck’ with me for the next-5-years!” Caroline shouted…and the devil chuckled…
“… hehehe, ‘fair-enough’… make sure you don’t shred your-responsibilities – and, make ‘sure’ too, you-honour what you signed-up for in Mr Jared-Wilford’s contract-agreement – and don’t default…”
Caroline shouted-again…
“SHUT-UP, you buffoon! Don’t TEACH-ME ‘about’ responsibilities!”
The devil laughed…
“… hahaha, we’ll ‘see’ about that…”
Caroline was speechless – and so was Tom…
The quiet-church-mouse, Paul was shocked by his-twin’s threats OF WANTING his mother ‘moved-out’ from the-Walker-house if she ‘married’ Tom…
‘… the house deed is under his name… and the ball is in-the-devil’s court – if he ‘can’ DO-IT to Mom… what ‘about’ me…? I’ll be homeless… when he’ll NEXT ‘CHASES’ me-and-Kitty away-too…’
For the next 2-minutes, everyone at the IKEA dining-table were silent and ate ice-cream. Paul in his-wheelchair had unsettling feelings IN THIS-Sunday-dinner with Principal-Harris – where the devil-was ‘extremely’ hostile WITH HIS power-play, rude-sarcasms and threats compared TO THE ‘previous’ 3-Sunday dinner occasions…
… the foodie was groaning to-himself…
‘… maybe this would-be THE ‘LAST’ Country-Club dinner we’ll ever-have…’
Caroline ‘broke’ the silence – asking…
“… how-about you, Poe – who’s your sponsor…?”
‘… well, Mom – if in the Dreamworld… I CAN ‘ASK’ the Archangel St Michael HIMSELF TO be-my sponsor… but…’
“… err… I asked Gary, my Uber-driver – he said ‘yes’…”
He saw Caroline smiling at him – and the devil-laughing-away…
“Hahaha! Looks-like Tarzan is getting-his ‘free’ Uber-rides from-now-on…!”
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The Sunday-dinner ended with the ice-cream dessert – Peter was the first to excuse himself from the table. He went forward to Tom… and thanked for the Country-Club’s cast-iron seared Filet Mignon with the Burgundy mushroom-sauce…
… and-also reminded Tom…
“… Principal-H, about the sponsor to the Holy-Confirmation – don’t worry about-it… I don’t know if ‘your’ American-founded, Presbyterian Christian-churches have our ‘similar’ Roman Catholic’s Vatican traditional True-culture of Holy-Confirmation, no…?
“… like I say, don’t worry about-it, Sir – just turn-up… and ‘ENJOY’ THE SHOW – our very ‘own’ Perth’s Bishop Beltran would be-there… I’ll-also be doing a ‘Live-Feed’ in FB and Instagram for those who ‘couldn’t come for my-big day @St Michaels… anyways, Principal-H wear ‘something’ colourful like-red – so that you’ll ‘pop-out’ in the vids – and they’ll point and say, ‘hey, Principal-H is the ‘sponsor’ for Peter-Walker’s Holy Confirmation’… YAY! A-Win-Win publicity for the BOTH-OF-US…
“… okay – good-night everyone… I’ve got an-engagement with Disney+…”
Everyone saw the black-robotic armed teen running upstairs to his-bedroom. Paul felt an instant ‘peace’ beset upon-him – when the-devil retreated to its-lair…
… he was scraping his-spoon-circular in the inside of the empty-ice-cream bowl… to lick the-spoon of the last-drops of the rich-flavoured strawberry ice-cream…
Paul-then heard sniffles at the dinner-table – seeing-Caroline was having a ‘breakdown’ … he ‘knew’ his-mother as a tough-cookie policewoman who was firm-and-well-founded, who wouldn’t emotionally-breakdown easily…
… but this-evening, her-devil firstborn had ‘managed’ to crack-her to be-vulnerable…
The last time Paul ‘saw’ his-mother in-tears was in-PERTHLAND – where a variant-of-her, Mrs Caroline-Dickson cried when her ‘favourite-son,’ the teenager-firstborn fought and left-home to ‘stay’ with his-lover, Jezebel @the-Stamford Hotel… owned by her-uncle, Lord Stamford-Crowley…
Paul was still at the table with the empty ice-cream bowl, and licking the spoon – Caroline wiped-off her tears… and saying to-Paul…
“Poe… it’s school night – you’re excused, go to sleep early…”
“…okay-Mom…” He obediently complied… thinking…
‘… I get-it, Mom – ‘clear’ the-room cos’… YOU-ADULTS are ‘doing your grown-up-talk ‘now…’
He backed the wheelchair towards his-principal – and shook Tom’s hand, saying in a coarse-voice…
“… thanks, Sir… the fish-too… yummy…” Paul flashed a thumbs-up…
“Get well soon, Paul… good-night…” The principal replied…
The adolescent-teen nodded and circled toward Caroline…
“… good-night, Mom…”
He wished her… and also in-the-passing put his-hand on Caroline’s shoulder – the tacit-understanding that the mother-&-2nd-son were THE ‘VICTIMS’ of the ‘bullying’ devil, living in-the-house…
Tom-and-Carol were silent until Paul wheelchaired into his-bedroom…
<>
In the-closed-bedroom, Paul levitated from his rolling-wheelchair – and, placing his-cheek on the door… to eavesdrop WHAT Tom-and-Carol were discussing…
‘… would they-both marry… and risk ‘being’ kicked-out by the ‘eldest’ son…?’
… Paul sighed as be too ‘was’ involved in the Walker-house’s telenovela – WHERE IF his-mom ‘goes,’ so WOULD HE…
‘… so, if you guys ‘get’ married… am I STAYING with you-both in a ‘new’ house…?’
Paul then-heard Caroline’s agitated-voice outside…
“Did you see ‘how’ he behaved just-now…? ‘Not’ an-ounce of bloody-respect for my-police-authorities and your-education-system influences – all-just because the house-deed is in his ‘name’. And, the arrogance of-him to sit like a ‘king’ in his-father’s throne in some bloody Walker-castle… and shooting his mouth-loose of ‘hurting’ words’…
“… he’s delinquent – and-is-a mirror-image of his b**tard-father, whose cursed-name he-now ‘took’ for his-Conformation… and-very soon, he end-up being a-criminal like his-dead bloody gambling-addict father…
“… is it God’s plans that I’m fated as a mother who ‘arrest’ her own-son…?”
In the windowless-room, Paul-then heard Tom’s voice…
“… Shhh-Carol, you’re ‘getting’ loud – lets talk ‘outside’ the house…”
“… okay…”
Paul heard the adult’s voice fading-away… with his-mom saying…
“Tom, you shouldn’t had-given them wine just-now…”
“… come-on, Carol… it’s just ‘half’ a glass – let them ‘live’ a bit as teens, in their own-rights… at the Sunday-dinners. yes…?”
“… ‘NOT’ MY-sons… they’re future-criminals… ‘both’ OF THEM…”
Behind the closed-door, Paul was annoyed ‘with’ his-mother…
‘… it’s ‘only’ half-glass, Mom – and you’re judging-me! I saw you DRINKING ‘MORE’ than Tom just-now at the-table…’
… as he levitated to his bed, mentally thinking-aloud…
‘… just like Jane…’
… realising that his blind-girlfriend COULD ‘GUZZLE’ a bottle-of-wine all by-herself…
Paul was ‘not’ sleepy on the school-night – he decided to study for his unprepared-midterms papers – where he had Mathematics, History, and Chemistry on the first-day, Wednesday…
… he ‘strategized’…
‘… I’d ‘revised’ Math with Jane this morning – it’s now the Hist-vs-Chem ‘showdown’ – which-of the ‘lesser’ evil-should I-pick…?’
… he chose the ‘easier’ path – in his-History subject…
‘… at least I get a linier-story telling of events-and-places… yea, I ‘love’ stories – instead of ‘memorising’ boring Chem-formula and theories – this ‘shit’ is better, and I’ll remember more’ facts for Wednesday…’
‘… opps-wha’ … I SHOULD ‘remember’ Historical-dates too…!!?
‘…err… but my-Math side of my-brain IS ‘STUPID’ in remembering ‘numbers’ – but I’ll ‘try’… yea, I-WILL…’
Determined, Paul was in his-desk, eating an apple and studied his history-workbook… lighting the midnight oil for his last-minute prep for midterms…
<>
Upstairs… Peter was ‘bouncing’ his tenno-ball on his-Babolat racquet for a-long time in his-bedroom. He had excused himself from the Sunday-dinner to watch Disney+ – where the TV-series, Obi-Wan Kenobi premiered its-streaming that-evening…
… but he was too-restless to chillax to Star Wars at that-moment, as he was ‘annoyed’ with his-mom – who constantly invited’ Tom for evening-dinner on her Sundays off-day…
‘I need my-space, Mom! I see your boyfriend’s stupid-face 5 DAYS-a-week in school – I don’t need to-see that moronic-face ‘again,’ in my-house on SUNDAYS-TOO… your-both senior-lovebirds ‘should’ go date outside… ‘NOT’ EVER-in my-house…!’
Peter-then became ‘suspicious’ of the adults, Tom-and-Carol…
‘… what are you-2 up-to, ‘behind’ MY-BACK…? The mind-of a widowed inspector along-with the ‘mediocre’ mind of a divorcee school-principal – ‘what’ are you 2-UP-TO…?
‘… is it the house-deed…? Are you going to TAKE IT AWAY – and reinstate the name-back TO-MOM…?
‘NO f***ing-way – my father’s house in-MY-ENTITLEMENT… bestowed to-me on my 13th-birthday… you are ‘not’ screwing that up FOR ME, Mom – the contact ‘says’ that this is ‘my’ house for the ‘next’ 5-YEARS… understand…!!?
‘You ungrateful-woman! Mr Wilford ‘paid’ YOUR-DEBTS! Now, you-2 ‘turning’ on-me …!? This is my-gig with Bella’s uncle… don’t you-cons bloody-F*** IT-UP for-me…!
‘… I know you’re ‘itching’ to get married-again, Mom – just like YOU-DID ‘when’ you became Mrs Dickson elsewhere… so, is your current Tomcat be humping you… ‘NEXT’ TO my-bedroom, in my house…!!? NO F***ING-way…!!! Get-a-motel or do-it in the backseat of his-Merc, I don’t-care… but ‘NOT’ IN MY-house…!
‘… I noticed that YOUR ‘CHOICES’ of men ‘sucks,’ since Dad-passed away, 3-years back – first it was the Special-Agent, Joe-son of-a-Dickson – THAT MEDDLING sneak ‘who’ investigated on Chinatown-Wong… whom-I PUT IN-COMA – but I got ‘rid’ of bloody-Joe, Mom… when he ‘crashed-and-burnt’ IN HIS-Holden…
‘Do you want ME TO ‘KILL’ your-Tom-Harris too!!”’
Peter swung his Babolat with his robotic-arm… smacking-hard the tenno into the wall of – his mother’s next-door bedroom…
-O-
Caroline was sound-asleep on-her-bed from the copious-amount of wine she had-drank…
… the hard-hitting tennis-ball on her-wall, in THE ‘OTHER’ ROOM… did ‘not’ stir-her from slumber…
-O-
In the other-room, Peter was ‘aroused’ by-thoughts of sex. He tossed the Babolat on his bed. He was standing in the centre-of the room… and thought-of…
… HIS SOULMATE-Jane…
… and was ‘angry’ at her-too – for ‘blasting’ her supe 3rd-Eye beam, and hurt him-below in-his-groins. And, her werewolf-dog-too killed his-quokka…
… ever-since the ‘defeat,’ his-dreams did ‘NOT’ CROSS WITH Blind-Jane’s… but ‘occasionally’ she ‘does’ unconsciously-summoned him… her ‘first-love,’ in-her-dreams – and, he’ll go TO-HER…
But Peter was ‘not’ satisfied in-his ‘visits’ – where, they kiss-and-fondle… but NO-SEX… cos’ Jane was wearing Venus’ chastity-belt protection ‘charm,’ that ‘avoided’ copulation…
The teen ‘missed’ the good-ol’ ‘Hide-and-Seek’ game-nights, ‘which’ he played in the Garden-Of-Eden… there was no-holds-barred where the game ‘got’ visceral-and-primeval where the incubus-in-him ‘hunted-to-rape’ the sneaky-blind girl…
… he remembered riding his-own giant-quokka steed – where they-go hunting and tracking for the blind-girl’s menstrual-blood scent in the-bushes – to-then hound-and-pursue THE HIDING soulmate, before dawn…
Peter missed his ‘abducted’ Rotto-Isle quokka, that ‘died’ a month-ago…
‘… RIP, my ‘lovely-boy, JW – you’ll be in my thought-and-prayers, my Beauty-joey pet, Amen-to-you…’
Despite the ‘possess-entity,’ Iskurr-the-incubus had warned him in his-dreams – to ‘NOT’ PRACTICE his-father’s Blackmagik that was ‘gifted’ by-Asmodeus… and they ‘should-be’ serving the ‘new’ Master-Of-Underworld, LORD-BAAL BEELZEBUB…
‘I donno who this Bubba-Yaga joker is…? And, I bloody don’t rat-arse care…’
Peter-Walker wanted to use-Solomon’s Dark-Spells TO ‘RESURRECT’ the-dead quakka…
‘… no-worries, Joey-Walker Jr – I’ll bring you back, like ‘how’ Jesus-did the-dead 2000-years ago … you’ll be running up-and-about soon… be patient, my-Boy… don’t turn in-your-grave as I’m ‘still’ learning-and-figuring my way-out in Dad’s journal… in this ‘crazy-assed’ Sumerian-text Spells…’
The robotic-armed teen lit a red-candle on his-desk, and switched-off the room-lights. In the dark, he repeated incantating a Middle-Eastern hex that ‘brought’ the dead-to-alive… at one point, he made a ‘BLOOD-OFFERING’ to the ritual…
… he pricked his index fingertip to draw drops of-his blood into the small plastic-bag of leaves… the food-staple of his-then pet-quokka…
Peter scattered the leaves on the floor of his-room and under the-bed…
‘… Come-and-Eat – JW, comeback-Alive and Eat… it’s got the-goodness of My-precious Golden-Blood in-nit that ‘heals’ – just like the Blood-Of-Jesus…’
For half-an-hour, the ‘egoistic’ wine-tipsy boy ‘acted’ in-his-thought like a snake-oil-preacher-peddler … offering his-blood as A ‘CURE’ to all-deadly-diseases in-the-world…
He was mentally-tired… and put Obi-Wan on-hold for-tomorrow – and, he collapsed on the-bed and slept, with his-strapped-on robotic-arm…
… the time was 10:11 PM…
<>
It was 12:12 PM, in the windowless bedroom with Paul putting-up the midnight-oil to ‘catch-up’ with his History-prep. He was ¾-way ‘done’… with another few ‘test-related’ chapters to go. He yawned…
… he was-up way-past 2-hours-late during school-night – but he can’t sleep-yet…
… as he was in-a 2nd-mission… to ‘find’ clues to the Blake-Tower – where, the evidences were in the wet-manuscripts ‘drying’ in the garage…
Paul levitated to the-door and peeked-out at the dark-surroundings…
‘… everyone’s asleep…’
In the-gloom, he floated like-Dune’s Baron Vladimir Harkonnen… to make his-way to the kitchen’s refrigerator, where there-was a side-door leading to the ‘former’ garage-cum-workshop-cum-storage area…
… he pulled the-cord – the tungsten-bulb lit – luminating the piles of drying book-and-encyclopaedias that-stacked by the-door… with many-damp books rowed on the floor that were in aeriation-and airing process…
Paul was only-interested in the manuscripts ventilating-to-dry on the 2-metre workbench-top. But he made a mistake of ‘not’ separating the Blake-Tower manuscript from the rest of the soggy-files. Paul flipped the covers of several manuscripts before he ‘found’ what he-was looking for, but…
… was disappointed by the TERRIBLE-CONDITION the single-copy was-in:
* Inks that were heavily-blotted, that deemed unreadable
* Pages were stuck together… that tore into-chunks when peeled-open
* It reeked of the drain-sewer odour
The teen was frustrated-and-clueless and ‘had’ dire-silly thoughts that a hair-blow-dryer would do-the-trick… and-then came to the realisation that the ‘only’ copy was totally-ruined. He was ‘now’ angry and wanted to kick ‘something’…
… and saw the large-soggy brown cardboard box… that ‘had’ contained the manuscripts. Paul wanted TO ‘KICK’ it – he levitated to the-wet sodden-carton and swerve his-hips to kick… but his crippled leg did ‘NOT’ SEND-the-box flying-and-slamming on the-otherside – like-of a superhero…
… the trust ‘was’ that, if…
… his ‘broken’ leg WAS A croquet-mallet – it wouldn’t hit the wooden-ball TO-GO ‘far’ too…
Then, the youngster-teen was overwhelmed by the thoughts of ‘failure’ in PERTHLAND’s mission without the intel of the ruined Blake-Tower-manuscript…
… further-mirages of negative-thoughts of self-worth spiralled – that he was ‘not’ smart as his-late father – and pursuing an-architectural ‘career’ was beyond his reach cos’ his lizard-brain ‘sucked’ with numbers…
Paul shouted…
“NO!”
… he slapped-himself ‘hard’ on his-cheek… at the same ‘spot’ – that his inspector-mom clouted-him a fortnight-ago at the-principal’s office…
… he felt the ‘sting’ on his-left cheek… and thought of ways-to-seek ‘positive-solution’…
… his Unconscious-mind ‘gave’ a pep-talk…
‘POE! You’re overthinking! Don’t complicate it – stick-to Dad’s blueprints of the Dark-Tower… where it’s got 99-Floors à and GET TO-the elevator to the ‘isolated’ 33rd-floor named The Omega-Level – a high-security, self-contained fortress…’
The teenager was overwhelmed BY THE terrible-thoughts of dangers of-the-mission – where the-Evil gigantic Eye-Of-Argus ON TOP of the Blake-Dark-tower – guarding the entrance-of-the elevator TO THE Omega-Level…
‘… o’ dear-me… the last I ‘checked-in’ PERTHLAND – I was ‘just’ a regular 16-year-old abled-bodied teenager… but I don’t have my superpowers in that-Perth…
‘… oh-no-no-no… how am I gonna ‘defeat’ a-massive Eyeball when I get’ there… how? how…!?’
… his Unconscious-mind ‘made’ Paul slap his-other cheek – and continued the pep-talk…
‘POE! Get a grip of your-self! Why worry-to-death of ‘future’ mission’s problem…? So-what if you don’t have your-supes? Poke it-in-eye, or something… or-go Sumo-wrestle it in PERTHLAND…
‘… you should be focused in the POST-TREETON’s problems-instead – on the-devil ‘landlord,’ who had-intensions of ‘kicking-out’ mom-and-you, Poe – ‘out’ from his-house…’
The boy nodded to-himself… pulled the cord to switch-off the yellow-bulb. In the dark, he floated-and-headed to his-room to-sleep… sighing…
‘Poe-Pee-Poe… just-enjoy your-problems IN-THE cursed-bucket… nite-nite, you-loser…’
The time-was 12:33.