A Bowl of Noodles, a Cup of Coffee, a Glass of Beer
Posted: Thu Mar 01, 2012 8:55 pm
Using the background from my "2400 words" project.
1. A Bowl of Noodles
2. A Cup of Coffee
3. A Glass of Beer
-----
"Hey, mister, looking for a girlfriend?"
The man in the grey overcoat stopped and turned around. The girl was standing in the mouth of the alleyway, leaning against the wall, looking up at him and smiling in what was probably supposed to be a seductive manner, but just wasn't working. A quick glance-over: school uniform, probably in junior high school, short hair, long skirt, leather boots, scarred knuckles. He looked behind her into the darkened alleyway, then shrugged. "Sure," he said. "Come with me."
"What?" The girl flinched in surprise, taken aback.
"You're my girlfriend now, right? Let's go on a date. I'll buy you dinner."
He turned and walks away from the alleyway, his hands in his pockets, listening carefully. There was a moment of hesitation, then he heard footsteps behind him as the girl followed. He smiled.
She put her arm in his and looked up at him winsomely. "So," she asked, bubbly and cheerful. "Where are we going?"
"Right here," the man said, pointing to a nearby udon shop. "Udon work for you?"
"I love udon!" the girl replied cheerfully.
"Great," the man said. "So could you give me back my wallet so I can pay for our meals?"
The girl fell silent.
"Your technique is pretty damn good," the man said calmly. "If I wasn't watching for it, I wouldn't have noticed. Smart move, pushing your breasts against me to hide the point you slid my wallet out of my pocket." He reached behind her and retrieved his wallet from where she had tucked it into the waistband of her school uniform skirt. "Could have worked out pretty badly for you if I weren't in a generous-type mood.
He flipped open his wallet and showed her his official police ID.
"Am I under arrest?" the girl asked, in a shaky voice.
"Nah. I'm off-duty." He put his wallet back into his coat pocket. "Are you coming?"
"What?"
"I said I'd buy you dinner, right? C'mon."
-----
"First of all, if you want to do the whole 'Girlfriend Experience' paid dating thing, it helps if you don't dress like a female thug," the man said, picking up his chopsticks and breaking them. "Go for the mini-skirt and long socks look. That comes off as safe and unthreatening. Way you're dressed, your targets will worry you're about to have a couple of big guys roll them for their wallets. In fact, that's what I thought you were up to until I noticed you were going it alone."
"I'll keep that in mind next time," the girl muttered.
"Next time, huh? Planning on trying this again?"
The girl shrugged. "I need some money. Figured this was the easiest way to get some."
"Easy? Maybe at the start. Trust me, though, give it enough time, and you'll come to regret it," the man said.
"No problem, then. I don't have that much time anyway," the girl said. She shook some red pepper mix into her bowl of udon.
"Hm?" The man glanced over at her, his mouth full of wheat noodles, eyebrows raised questioningly.
"I've got this condition. It's got this long name and everything, but the important parts are there's no cure and I'll be most likely dead before I'm forty. So really, I won't live long enough to regret it, right? Why not enjoy myself, then?"
"Hmmm. Good question. Well, here's the way I think about it. You're how old right now, thirteen?"
"Fourteen," the girl said, picking up her noodles and slurping up a big bite.
"Hmmm. Well, like I said, here's the way I think about it. If you die at forty, that's about twenty-six years more living you've got to do. That's almost twice as long as you've been alive up until now. That's still plenty of time to do a lot of regretting."
"Mm," the girl mumbled, through a mouth full of noodles.
"Anyway, I've been doing this job for about ten years now, and in my experience, there are three types of girls who go into the whole 'delinquent' lifestyle. The first type just likes to wear long skirts, bleach their hair, and wear hospital masks because they like the attention or think it's cool. The second type like to commit petty crimes and hurt people for kicks. They're the real sociopathic types, the ones that scare me." He took a sip of his tea. "The third type does it because they're pissed off at the world. Some of them got dealt a raw hand and resent it. I think you're one of those."
"What's your point?"
"My point is, life sucks. Everyone goes through hard times, some harder than others. The difference is how you respond to it." The man took a bite of his noodles, chewed, and swallowed. "See, the way I think of it, you're not a bad kid. You're pissed off at the world and your situation and you don't know what to do about it."
"So? You've got all the answers."
"Not really. But I do know, doing the same old thing over and over and expecting things to change is the definition of insanity. And you don't seem like an insane girl to me." He smiled. "So shake things up. Try something different. See what changes." He waved to the man behind the counter. "Yo! Master! Another hard-boiled egg for my friend here!"
-----
"Thanks for dinner," the girl said, as they left the restaurant about half an hour later. "But I still don't see why the heck you bothered."
"I'm a sucker for hard-luck stories," the man said. "Also, preventative medicine. Maybe I convince you to see life differently, and I don't need to bring you in later on a charge. Save me some work."
"Whatever," the girl sighed. "At least I got a free meal out of it."
"Hey, kid?"
"Yeah?"
"You ever decide you want to make a change, I think I know someone who can help," the man says. He reached into his pocket and handed her a business card. "My brother works at this school in Saitama. Top-flight school, good reputation. Normally costs a bundle to get in, but they've got this thing where they give scholarships if you have a disability. Sounds to me like yours might qualify."
The girl looked down at the business card and frowned. "Yamaku Special High School? Is this some kind of cripple school?"
"Not exactly. It's hard to explain. Anyway, if you decide you're sick of how your life is going and need a change of location to start all over, it might be something to look into. Your call, kid," the man said. He turned to walk away.
"Hey!" the girl shouted.
"Hm?"
"What's your name, anyway? You bought me dinner and stuff. I think I should at least find out who my date tonight was."
"Don't talk like that, kid, or you'll get us both in trouble," the man said, smiling. "Name's Keiji Mutou. Detective Keiji Mutou. Juvenile Crimes Division."
"I'm Saki Enomoto," the girl said. "Thanks for dinner."
"No problem, kid. See ya."
He turned and walked away, humming to himself.
Not bad for a night's work.
1. A Bowl of Noodles
2. A Cup of Coffee
3. A Glass of Beer
-----
"Hey, mister, looking for a girlfriend?"
The man in the grey overcoat stopped and turned around. The girl was standing in the mouth of the alleyway, leaning against the wall, looking up at him and smiling in what was probably supposed to be a seductive manner, but just wasn't working. A quick glance-over: school uniform, probably in junior high school, short hair, long skirt, leather boots, scarred knuckles. He looked behind her into the darkened alleyway, then shrugged. "Sure," he said. "Come with me."
"What?" The girl flinched in surprise, taken aback.
"You're my girlfriend now, right? Let's go on a date. I'll buy you dinner."
He turned and walks away from the alleyway, his hands in his pockets, listening carefully. There was a moment of hesitation, then he heard footsteps behind him as the girl followed. He smiled.
She put her arm in his and looked up at him winsomely. "So," she asked, bubbly and cheerful. "Where are we going?"
"Right here," the man said, pointing to a nearby udon shop. "Udon work for you?"
"I love udon!" the girl replied cheerfully.
"Great," the man said. "So could you give me back my wallet so I can pay for our meals?"
The girl fell silent.
"Your technique is pretty damn good," the man said calmly. "If I wasn't watching for it, I wouldn't have noticed. Smart move, pushing your breasts against me to hide the point you slid my wallet out of my pocket." He reached behind her and retrieved his wallet from where she had tucked it into the waistband of her school uniform skirt. "Could have worked out pretty badly for you if I weren't in a generous-type mood.
He flipped open his wallet and showed her his official police ID.
"Am I under arrest?" the girl asked, in a shaky voice.
"Nah. I'm off-duty." He put his wallet back into his coat pocket. "Are you coming?"
"What?"
"I said I'd buy you dinner, right? C'mon."
-----
"First of all, if you want to do the whole 'Girlfriend Experience' paid dating thing, it helps if you don't dress like a female thug," the man said, picking up his chopsticks and breaking them. "Go for the mini-skirt and long socks look. That comes off as safe and unthreatening. Way you're dressed, your targets will worry you're about to have a couple of big guys roll them for their wallets. In fact, that's what I thought you were up to until I noticed you were going it alone."
"I'll keep that in mind next time," the girl muttered.
"Next time, huh? Planning on trying this again?"
The girl shrugged. "I need some money. Figured this was the easiest way to get some."
"Easy? Maybe at the start. Trust me, though, give it enough time, and you'll come to regret it," the man said.
"No problem, then. I don't have that much time anyway," the girl said. She shook some red pepper mix into her bowl of udon.
"Hm?" The man glanced over at her, his mouth full of wheat noodles, eyebrows raised questioningly.
"I've got this condition. It's got this long name and everything, but the important parts are there's no cure and I'll be most likely dead before I'm forty. So really, I won't live long enough to regret it, right? Why not enjoy myself, then?"
"Hmmm. Good question. Well, here's the way I think about it. You're how old right now, thirteen?"
"Fourteen," the girl said, picking up her noodles and slurping up a big bite.
"Hmmm. Well, like I said, here's the way I think about it. If you die at forty, that's about twenty-six years more living you've got to do. That's almost twice as long as you've been alive up until now. That's still plenty of time to do a lot of regretting."
"Mm," the girl mumbled, through a mouth full of noodles.
"Anyway, I've been doing this job for about ten years now, and in my experience, there are three types of girls who go into the whole 'delinquent' lifestyle. The first type just likes to wear long skirts, bleach their hair, and wear hospital masks because they like the attention or think it's cool. The second type like to commit petty crimes and hurt people for kicks. They're the real sociopathic types, the ones that scare me." He took a sip of his tea. "The third type does it because they're pissed off at the world. Some of them got dealt a raw hand and resent it. I think you're one of those."
"What's your point?"
"My point is, life sucks. Everyone goes through hard times, some harder than others. The difference is how you respond to it." The man took a bite of his noodles, chewed, and swallowed. "See, the way I think of it, you're not a bad kid. You're pissed off at the world and your situation and you don't know what to do about it."
"So? You've got all the answers."
"Not really. But I do know, doing the same old thing over and over and expecting things to change is the definition of insanity. And you don't seem like an insane girl to me." He smiled. "So shake things up. Try something different. See what changes." He waved to the man behind the counter. "Yo! Master! Another hard-boiled egg for my friend here!"
-----
"Thanks for dinner," the girl said, as they left the restaurant about half an hour later. "But I still don't see why the heck you bothered."
"I'm a sucker for hard-luck stories," the man said. "Also, preventative medicine. Maybe I convince you to see life differently, and I don't need to bring you in later on a charge. Save me some work."
"Whatever," the girl sighed. "At least I got a free meal out of it."
"Hey, kid?"
"Yeah?"
"You ever decide you want to make a change, I think I know someone who can help," the man says. He reached into his pocket and handed her a business card. "My brother works at this school in Saitama. Top-flight school, good reputation. Normally costs a bundle to get in, but they've got this thing where they give scholarships if you have a disability. Sounds to me like yours might qualify."
The girl looked down at the business card and frowned. "Yamaku Special High School? Is this some kind of cripple school?"
"Not exactly. It's hard to explain. Anyway, if you decide you're sick of how your life is going and need a change of location to start all over, it might be something to look into. Your call, kid," the man said. He turned to walk away.
"Hey!" the girl shouted.
"Hm?"
"What's your name, anyway? You bought me dinner and stuff. I think I should at least find out who my date tonight was."
"Don't talk like that, kid, or you'll get us both in trouble," the man said, smiling. "Name's Keiji Mutou. Detective Keiji Mutou. Juvenile Crimes Division."
"I'm Saki Enomoto," the girl said. "Thanks for dinner."
"No problem, kid. See ya."
He turned and walked away, humming to himself.
Not bad for a night's work.
great work as usual sir
