I’ve known Morgan for a long time
we used to play intense games
for instance, she would pretend she was a pretty ghost
following me around
in the city
I guess it’s just one of those things
that explains why I was looking forward to work with her again
on top of that, she was very eye-catching
So, we met in Okazaki
she was a little apprehensive
for the first couple of minutes
I had the sniffles
she asked me
“Are you sick or allergic or something?
because I know a few tantric tricks…”
We went to my room
she seemed a bit nervous
but then she loosened up
and didn't have any problem
she stripped
and I started to write
To help her relax
I asked her the first question that came to my mind: “Have you
ever taken food allergy tests?
-Oh dear, she said, I can’t eat peanut butter, Reeses
Peanut Butter Cups or Chicken Satay.”
As she was saying that, she started to sniff her fingers
then all of a sudden
just as I was starting to feel that words were coming to me at last
she quickly put her clothes back on
and ran away
I didn’t try to stop her
instead, I put it into words
but when I was finished, I called her
wanting to know what had happened
and how we could get back together
She didn’t answer my call
but she send me a text message
on the LCD display I read: Meet me at “The Tick”
that’s a famous theater in Okazaki
She wasn’t there
instead there was a man, a stranger
with a black hat
he came to me, asking: “Are you Mr. Katz?
-Yes, I answered. Did Morgan ask you to meet me here?
-My name is Katagiri, said the man. Maybe Morgan
asked me to meet you here. But tell me: Do you remember
the episode when Homer Simpson was mad, and kicked
everybody around him?”
Of course, I knew the Simpsons--who doesn't?
primetime animated comedies have come a long way
since I was a child
still I couldn’t understand what this was all about
worse, there was no way I could have guessed
what was coming up. “Yes,” I answered
once again, “I think I remember.
-Do you really think so? asked the man, taking off
his black hat. You know, it’s never been cheap
to hire someone to create that kind of products.
-What products?”
I couldn’t make any sense of what that man was saying. I was
getting ready to leave. “You sell an e-book, Mr. Katz?” asked Katagiri. “What’s
the content of it?
-Now, I said, that’s enough! Where is Morgan? Tell me where she is!”
That man, he looked at me with placid eyes, then,
still holding on to his hat, he kicked me so strong that I fell down
on my knees
he kicked me once more
hitting the right hand
so violently
it felt like one of my fingers came off
and indeed, it had.
As I was coping with the pain, I looked up at Katagiri
he didn’t seem like he was going to kick me again, but he yelled at me:
“Pick it up! Your finger, pick it up!”
I picked it up. It was covered with blood and soil.
I was wondering: How did it came off with only a kick?
“What is that e-book that you are writing?” Katagiri asked me once more.
“It’s a story, I explained. A novel, but only the first chapter is ready.
-Tell me! Tell me!” shouted Katagiri. He still was holding his hat.
So, I told him: “Patrick and Maya live together in Larrickville, Michigan.
They are making a tidy income from Outsourcing Research
for some health companies, but Patrick doesn’t like it
and once or twice a week, he comes back home tipsy, or completely
drunk. When that happens, Maya, she starts to kick him…
-Kicks! Kicks!” yelled Katagiri at the top of this voice. He didn’t seem
concerned that his yelling could attract unwanted attention. “What’s
next?” he asked me.
“Well, that’s the beginning. Soon after that, Patrick leaves her
to start his snow-plowing business. He believes that’s a job sector where
there is no world-wide competition, and he feels good
plowing snow, “re-living” memories from his teens. That, that’s
what he really wants, to get back to his memories as a teen.”
At this point, Katagiri seemed to have calmed down. He had put his black
hat back on his head. He told me not to write that story anymore. “I'll
sure miss Patrick and Maya,” he added, “especially him, but I’ll have this…”
and he snatched the cut finger from my hand. “When blood and soil
become one,” he said, “it is quite an event.”
He left. I was shaking. I received some help from someone at the Tick
Theater. Soon, I dashed to the train station. I returned to Tokyo, and
a day later I left Japan, one finger missing. I have not heard from Morgan
ever since.
::: ::: :::
[Drawing: A sketch for Katagiri by reading_is_dangerous]
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