[PLEASE LEAVE A VOICE MESSAGE AFTER THE TONE...BEEP!]
[Hello...How do I start this? Err, it’s Pippy here. So, how was
school? I’ve tried reaching your phone but I was always answered by a
robot-voice woman. Your Uncle Tom said you might be too busy, but I knew
my grandson was just being a good boy who wouldn’t break the school
regulations. How are you?]
Amongst hundreds of scholars scattered dot-like in front of the
brick-red edifices of an elite boarding school, were two friends deeply
absorbed in their conversation.
Mick, a bright student, was bargaining his friend to stay with him
during the holiday. With little reluctance, his friend said yes, so much
for the 3DVC* Mick owned and so that they could discuss the ‘Passive
Cigarette Filter’ project.
[Here’s the truth about your mother, Diana. When it came time you
were born, not a glimpse of disgust had she shown despite your
condition. There was only one regret...]
True, as they say, life isn’t all beer and skittles. His fantastic
blueprints of childhood dreams, hardship borne – flying suit, smart
robot maid, and fountain of youth – were sold by his associate, Mick,
out of the trust and friendship they had been through for so long. In
fact, there was a story about a man’s-best-friend terrier biting its
master.
[...her chicken boyfriend. She besought me to be strict with you,
and soon she died of AIDS. By God’s will, you were alive! Don’t play
fool with lust, believe me He won’t save you twice.]
Somehow, somewhere in the midst of glory, he was dragged back to
where he began assembling, bit by bit, the ingredients to bake a cake of
success. He felt for and found an old luggage.
Strewn inside were a Bible, an iPhone, and a forgotten photo
capturing a grinning boy clasping the eyes of an old man – picture
perfect. From this place in an old apartment, through the windowpane, as
he started combining the pieces of nostalgic puzzle, he caught a
forlorn view of the boarding school, his ‘alma mater’. Then it dawned on
him; his friend wasn’t just a biting terrier, he was an evil obscured
beyond the look of an angel.
[Once, you asked why there were still bad people if really God is
almighty. You see, on a rainy day, some cursed, but in truth, farmers,
trees, and starving African all gave their thanks. He is fair...simple
answer for simple question. Now stop questioning and read the Bible.]
Soon the decelerating car halted to a rest, floating aloft the
electromagnetic roadway. Hence he set forth all he could an effort to
run, with an anxiety that just grew stronger, almost staggeringly so.
He dashed his way inside the house, all the rush only to witness a
humorous hanging banner: WELCOME HOME, CITY BOY. His sight improved to a
wider angle. At once he was dumbfounded as he realized the dust in
place everywhere; the unwanted but the logic had happened.
[No one can travel to the past but it’s never not alright to make
mistakes. Upon every breath, give your best; cherish every chapter of
life. If on your way the road gets harsh, step into a carriage of faith
and it will escort you to the triumphant sky. One of these days when
your feet crumble, flip the Bible and inside it you’ll find wisdom, with
little or no searching. Sometimes even the slightest failure can shut
the voice of a fighter, that’s when others’ advices can guide you, but
above all, bow your head and pray...]
Gone were the days of storm and chillness, and after came the warmth
of the sun and comfort of the breeze, which blew a pale gold leaf pass
three figures, already loud in a lunatic burlesque. While one busied
himself fixing the camera, the other was persuading his cheeky grandson
not to stand on the bench. The way it defied the world, the grandson’s
synthetic leg wasn’t something that brought him slumping. But that is
how it goes with young children: the more you prevent them, the more
rebellious they will be.
The old man gave in and sat beside his grandson. Just a split second
before the cameraman (whose name was Tom) flashed his camera, the
bolt-quick hands of the grandson had closed the eyes of his grandfather –
picture perfect.
[I know it’s busy life there but...I really miss my boy. I can still
kick a ball you know...I need a tissue, Tom...Why in the world am I
crying like a sissy? Maybe my boy has turned handsome and gentleman now,
but if you need a Grandpa, Pippy’s not going anywhere –]
[YOU HAVE ZERO TALK-TIME LEFT ON...]
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