Martoons

Cast of characters

Fred

Mrs Park

Mrs Kim

*

Shaking his head, Fred’s feeling had worsened about his manifesto.

What good would it do? Donna probably just laughed and tossed it in the garbage.

Then Thomas’ voice: “Worry about yourself only. This place comes at you from all sides.”

Yet other voices fought back: “Get a grip on yourself and stop being a wimp. Stand up to evil.

“What happened to Go wasn’t right and you know it. And since you do know it, do something about it. You could be next.”

“It simply isn’t fair.”

“Who says life’s fair?”

The voices yelled back and forth, like a domestic squabble, trying to drown each other out; wanting to get the last word in.

Points, counterpoints and insults rattled around in Fred’s head.

He sunk deeper into himself; his eyes glazing up.

Suddenly, a sunken, sleek sports car tore past along the tiny backstreet, as if to say, “Hey waygook walking around in a daze – wake up! Ayeesh!”

The buzzy rumble of the car’s modified exhaust startled Fred, snapping him out of his melancholic stupor.

“Slow down guano brains!” he exclaimed, flicking the driver a bird.

But the car carried on, oblivious. Fred couldn’t see the driver because of the car’s tinted windows.

Was the driver ignoring him?

It was almost as if Fred – in his bitter mood – would have welcomed the driver stopping, getting out and settling the matter.

He felt like pounding the crap out of a Korean right around now.

Eerily, the car then did slow and Fred felt a rush of adrenalin; involuntarily his fists clenched.

* Is the driver going to stop for a fight? *

Turns out the driver was just a bit slow changing gears. Fred wondered if he’d contemplated stopping and then changed his mind.

After a brief burst on the throttle, the driver engaged the clutch; the sports car roared ahead and then disappeared around a corner.

The brief episode now done, Fred was left alone with his alienation again.

His head dropped in resignation and he scoffed mildly. I can’t even goad some Korean punk into a fight!

Even so, Fred felt as if he’d taken a beating anyway.

Summoning his last few joules of energy, he thrust his chest out and shoulders back, and raised his chin.

Forget about being on time for work; he was going to enjoy the last few blocks to Central.

This might be his only chance to get some benefit out of this day – and he was leaving Korea soon anyway!

Oddly enough, the wind seemed to die right down and the sun suddenly burst through the clouds, and it had warmth to it.

Fred’s emotional turmoil started to burn off like a morning fog and calm overtook him.

Everything was going to be alright after all.

* Will it? *

Maybe.

Moments later Central Institute’s front edifice appeared half a block away and Fred relapsed.

By the time he got to the doorway he was gasping.

Ascending the stairs he sensed there were omniscient invisible eyes watching him; judging him. Staring. Glaring. Gawking.

“Why?” he muttered into the stairwell and throwing his hands up. How did it come to this?

I came to this God-forsaken peninsula way back when to check up on Thomas.

It seemed so simple then. How did I sink so deep into this Korean quagmire?

In his beleaguered mind-state, he walked into the staff room and was instantly stared-

down by all the beady, glaring, intrusive television monitors, which had taken over one entire wall.

Otherwise, the office was strangely quiet and vacant.

It gave him a few precious seconds to get his bearings. Only the big clock on the wall was audible…

Tick … tick … tick…

So late for class now, a few more minutes wouldn’t matter and Fred figured he might as well go down and get a coffee.

The mere thought warmed him up.

Fishing around in his pocket for change, just as his fingertips felt the requisite coinage, the office door s-l-o-w-l-y cracked open and two faces cautiously peered in.

Deeming it safe inside, two women snuck in and clicked the door shut behind them.

Fred recognized them: Mrs Park and Mrs Kim, from the temple hike and dog restaurant a few days ago.

That whole experience had generated such a warm, familiar and intimate, friendly feeling that Fred was now puzzled why the two ajummas were tip-toeing into the office.

* What do they want? *

“Oh, waygook, waygook!”they whispered to each other. “He is here!”

Giggling, they put a hand up to their mouths to conceal it. Fred was mildly annoyed by their rather immature (yet common) reaction.

The housewives were acting almost as if Fred was an outsider again.

“Aren’t you Mrs Park and Mrs Kim?” He shrugged. “Why not just call me Fred? Let’s be friends. I won’t bite.”

“Ah, yeah,” they said in tandem with big, gushy pasted smiles.

*

Tomorrow: The housewives take note of Fred’s diminished keyboon.