“That’s fine. No, really. That’s more than fine. That’s great,” Alfred replied as he stuck the cards in his coat pocket and patted it. “I’ll send everyone I meet to you. There’ll be so many extra dishes to wash from the new customers, you’ll have to hire a second dishwasher.” He stuck out his massive hand towards Lin Shu, who took it hesitantly. He braced himself in preparation to having his hand crushed, but the large man had a surprisingly gentle handshake.
Alfred turned to leave with a renewed spring in his step and a broad smile on his face. As he began to open the door, he turned, the smile wavering a bit. “Oh, I need to let you know one thing about Wilbur. He’s not the brightest light in the sky, if you get my drift.” He quickly added, “But he’s strong as an ox and a good worker. He won’t give you any trouble, promise.”
Before Lin Shu could say anything, Alfred was out the door. “What have I gotten myself into this time?” Lin Shu muttered under his breath.
But, as it turned out, Alfred was a man of his word. Not only did a steady stream of new customers start pouring through the front door carrying a business card with AP initials on the back, most of them placed large orders to compete with Alfred’s, and Wilbur turned out to be a willing worker as well. Like his uncle, Wilbur was large for his sixteen years, easily six feet tall, with a layer of fat that only partially hid his muscular build. The only thing that Alfred got wrong was that his nephew was more than just a little slow. In fact, Lin Shu suspected that Wilbur suffered from some undiagnosed learning disorder, but how smart did you have to be to wash dishes and take out the trash? It seemed to Lin Shu it was a match made in heaven. And it would have been if not for his child, fifteen-year-old daughter, Lin Li and his assistant, Yang Shing.
WILBUR COULDN’T BELIEVE that Uncle Alfred had once again come through. Not only did he have a place to stay for the summer out from under his mom’s tyrannical rule, but his uncle had even found him a job. Okay, maybe it wasn’t the best job in the world, but it was a job that even paid. Minimum wage, but still. When he asked Uncle Alfred what he was supposed to do with his paychecks, Alfred replied, “Why, turn it over to me, of course, to pay for your room and board.” Then he’d smiled. “I’m just kidding, Wilbur. It’s your money. You’re working for it, and you deserve it. You might want to send a little of it home to your mom, but that’s completely up to you.”
The suggestion made sense to Wilbur. Despite how hard his mom often was on him, he still loved her and knew, somewhere deep down inside, she loved him as well. They just needed a break from each other every now and then.
Truth be told, Wilbur enjoyed washing dishes. The hot, sudsy water made his hands feel good. He even enjoyed hauling in the supplies once or twice a week. Some of the crates were pretty heavy, but Wilbur didn’t mind. It was like working out at the gym and getting paid for it. Plus, every now and then, it gave him the chance to show off to Lin Li. As far as Wilbur was concerned, Lin Li was about the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. Since she worked the register up front and was seldom around the food preparation, she wore her long, jet black hair down. She had large, expressive, dark brown, almond-shaped eyes and a quirky smile with just the slightest sign of dimples on both cheeks just below the high cheekbones. Her porcelain skin was so smooth it made you want to reach out and caress her cheek—not that Wilbur would ever do such a thing. No, he was terrified of girls. All girls, but especially beautiful ones. He’d have to settle for admiring Lin Li from afar.
THEN THERE WAS YANG Shing, the assistant manager of the Pagoda—at least that’s the title he had used when he’d introduced himself on that first day. Despite being at least a year or two older than Wilbur, Shing was almost a foot shorter, but he seemed determined to make up for his small frame by being meaner than anyone else Wilbur had ever met. When he’d mention this to his uncle, he’d frowned and replied, “Sounds like a classic case of Napoleon Syndrome.”
“What’s that?” Wilbur asked with a perplexed look on his face—the same look that he often wore.
“Small people, especially men, sometimes feel the need to compensate for their small size in some way. I’d stay clear of him if you can. Just do what he says and don’t cause waves. It wasn’t easy getting you that job. There aren’t that many opportunities here in Foster Flat for teenagers, but a ton of kids looking for work.”
Wilbur tried his darnedest to follow his uncle’s advice but, given the small size of the restaurant, it was nearly impossible to stay out of Shing’s way. In fact, it felt like Shing went out of his way to get in Wilbur’s face, especially since that first episode shortly after Wilbur started working there. Lin Shu had called the other workers to the back of the restaurant to introduce their newest employee. The two cooks simply shook Wilbur’s hand before returning to the kitchen to prepare for the onslaught of lunchtime customers, leaving Shu to introduce his daughter, Lin Li, and his assistant, Yang Shing.
“Assistant manager, that is,” Shing corrected his boss, while also ignoring Wilbur’s offered hand. “I’ll be keeping a close eye on you, boy, so do your work and no fraternizing with the customers or the other employees. Understand?”
Wilbur nodded, even though he hadn’t a clue what it meant to ‘fraternize.’ He figured he’d just stay to himself until he could ask his uncle what it meant.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Wilbur,” Lin Li said as she took the hand he’d offered to Shing. Wilbur turned to reply to her greeting, but found that his tongue had suddenly grown four sizes larger and had forgotten how to form words, much less a coherent sentence. He nodded to her, continuing to hold her hand for several seconds as he stared into her eyes.
“Okay, everyone, back to work,” Lin Shu said as he quietly took his daughter’s hand from Wilbur’s large mitt. “Lunchtime will be upon us before we know it.” He continued to hold his daughter’s hand as he escorted her to the front of the restaurant.
“Already breaking my one order, huh?” Shing said after the two of them left. He took a set of sticks out of his back pocket and started swinging them around so fast that Wilbur had trouble focusing on them. “Ever seen a set of these?” Shing asked, pausing just long enough for Wilbur to see that the two sticks were painted a dull red and were connected together somehow. Then he twirled them around his body again as Wilbur shook his head and instinctively took a step away from him.
“They’re nunchaku, or as most Americans call them, nunchucks,” Shing continued. “What did I tell you about fraternizing with the customers and other employees?”
“You said not to do it,” Wilbur replied as he continued to stare at the twirling sticks, mesmerized by the rapid motion, while at the same time being frightened that Shing might lose control and conk one or both of them on the head.
“And yet, already you start flirting with Lin Li...in front of me, no less.”
“I wasn’t...I didn’t...” Wilbur stuttered, unsure what he was trying to say. All thought stopped when suddenly Shing turned his attention to a large burlap bag of rice sitting a few feet from Wilbur. The nunchuck flew through the air at blinding speed, landing with a solid dull thump on the bag of rice...once...twice...a third time, all faster than Wilbur could follow. Shing continued to beat on the bag until the burlap suddenly split and grains of rice fell to the floor.
“Lin Li is already spoken for,” Shing said as he turned his attention back to Wilbur. “Understand, boy?”
Wilbur nodded, too alarmed by the violence exercised on the innocent bag of rice to say anything.
“I believe the words you’re looking for are, ‘yes sir,’” Shing said as he returned the nunchucks to his back pocket.
“Yes, sir,” Wilbur replied.
“Now clean this shit up.” Shing turned to leave, then stopped. “And don’t forget this lesson.”
WILBUR SPENT MOST OF his time in the rear of the restaurant with his hands in hot soapy water, scrubbing pots and pan as well as endless stacks of dirty dishes. He really didn’t mind though, for as he worked, he
also enjoyed creating stories in which he was the hero regularly rescuing Lin Li from one dangerous mishap after another. But occasionally he was allowed to come to the front after hours when the doors had been locked and all the customers had left for the evening. After all, someone had to clean the floors in preparation for the next day.
That’s where Wilbur discovered the magic powers of fortune cookies from, of all people, Yang Shing. One night not long after Wilbur had started work, Shing sat up front in one of the booths deciding what specials to offer the next day. Watching Wilbur as he swept the floor in preparation for mopping it, he had a sudden brainstorm.
Shing reached into the large tub of fortune cookies and pulled out two, opening one for himself before looking over to Wilbur.
“Hey, boy, you like cookies? Ever tried one of these?” he asked as he tossed the second cookie at Wilbur, who instinctively caught it.
“Yeah, I love them,” Wilbur replied, staring down at the cellophane-wrapped cookie.
“Well, then you’ll like these, too.” Shing broke off a piece of his own cookie and popped it in his mouth. “Try it.”
It took Wilbur several seconds to figure out how to remove the cellophane. His large hands often made such detail work difficult, but when he, at last, had it removed, he popped the whole cookie in his mouth.
“What are you doing, you idiot?” Shing started to say, but stopped himself at the last second. Let him figure it out, he thought, smiling while Wilbur crunched on the cookie. A second or two later, he stopped, that familiar, perplexed look growing on his face as he reached into his mouth with two beefy fingers and pulled out a slip of paper.
“What’s this?”
“It’s your fortune, dunderhead. Haven’t you ever heard of a fortune cookie?”
Wilbur shook his head as he started chewing on the cookie again. “No, but they’re good.”
“Well, aren’t you going to read your fortune?” Shing asked after a few seconds. “You can read, can’t you?”
“Sure,” Wilbur replied. Reading was one of his favorite pastimes, but something told him not to share this fact with Shing. Instead, he looked at the paper and slowly read the words:
“You will be visited by old friends before the end of the month.”
“That’s a good one,” Shing said as he prepared the next step of his plan. “I hope, for your sake, you have some old friends. If so, you might want to call a few and make sure someone comes to visit you soon. The end of the month is only a week away. Wouldn’t want to anger the gods, you know.”
“What?” Wilbur didn’t like the ominous sound of Shing’s comment. “What gods?”
“The fortune cookie gods, of course. They are easily angered if their fortunes are ignored. So, even if you need to help them come true, it’s far better than what can happen if they don’t come true.”
“Really?” Wilbur finished swallowing the last morsel of the cookie. Suddenly, he wasn’t sure he liked it that much after all. “Well, my mom is supposed to come for a visit this weekend. Will that count?”
“I don’t know,” Shing said, suppressing the grin that fought to spread across his face. “Do you consider her a friend?”
Wilbur thought about that for a moment before answering. After all, the gods might be listening. Finally, he replied, “Yeah, sure. We’re friends...most of the time.”
“Well, then, you’re off the hook,” Shing replied, allowing a little smile to surface. “This time.”
OVER THE NEXT COUPLE weeks, Yang Shing continued to feed additional fortune cookies to his new mark. The only difference was that these cookies had special fortunes that Shing wrote especially for Wilbur. Shing considered it an experiment to see just how gullible Wilbur was and how far he’d go to avoid the wrath of the fortune cookie gods. It also seemed like an ideal way to make sure Wilbur and Lin Li didn’t hook up. He had to admit that, like most experiments, this one had mixed results.
Wilbur’s next fortune read: “Tell your beloved how you really feel about her.” Shing figured that would turn Lin Li off in a heartbeat, not to mention how her father would blow a gasket when he heard about it. Unfortunately, it didn’t unfold in quite the way he’d planned.
“Well, what are you going to do?” Shing asked as he watched Wilbur mull over the fortune while he munched on the cookie. “Remember, those gods don’t like to be ignored.”
“Yeah, I know,” Wilbur replied. “I’m thinking, I’m thinking.”
“I wouldn’t think too long,” Shing prodded him as he cracked open his own cookie and pretended to read what was inside. “Oh, my. Listen to this: ‘Help your friend strike while the iron is hot.’ If that’s not a sign, I don’t know what is. I think I saw Lin Li in her father’s office working on the books.”
Wilbur nodded. “Can I take a couple of minutes and...”
“Sure, no problem. I don’t want the gods mad at me either. Take however much time you need.”
Wilbur nodded again, then lumbered towards the rear of the building. Shing waited for a few seconds before following behind him. This is going to be too good to miss, he thought. He watched as Wilbur entered the small closet-size room that Lin Shu had converted to an office. Shing peered around the corner as Wilbur shuffled in front of the desk where Lin Li sat. He spoke to her for a few moments but Shing was too far away to make out his words. After another moment, Wilbur picked up the phone from the desk and started dialing a number.
What the hell is he doing? Shing wondered. Who would he be calling now while his beloved sits right there in front of him? After a couple of minutes, Wilbur hung up the phone and spoke again to Lin Li. The next moment froze Shing in his tracks as Lin Li rose from her seat behind the desk and walked around to give dunderhead Wilbur a hug.
This can’t be, Shing thought. He wasn’t even talking to her. He had to find out what was going on, so he could somehow fix it. After Wilbur left to go back to his dishwashing duties, Shing sauntered forward.
“What was that all about?” he asked, pointing in the direction Wilbur had just gone. “What did he want?”
Lin Li looked up from the papers she’d started working on again and smiled. “It was the sweetest thing. He just came in to ask if he could use the phone for a minute. Then he called his mother just to tell her how much he loved her. What a sweetie pie.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. His mother?”
“That’s right. My father has always told me to be sure to check to see how a boy treats his mother because it’s a good sign of how he’ll treat you. I think he’s right.”
“Son-of-a-bitch,” Shing muttered as he turned to leave.
“When was the last time you called your mother?” Lin Li asked. “Oh, never mind. I forgot. You still live with her.”
THE NEXT PHASE OF THE experiment started out better. Late one evening as Wilbur finished the mopping, Shing pretended to pull a cookie from the bin, then handed the one he had hidden in his palm to Wilbur. The fortune cookie read: “Tomorrow is a bad day to work. Stay home.”
“Oh, that doesn’t sound good,” Wilbur said as he stared at the paper.
“No, indeed, it does not,” Shing replied. “I think the fortune cookie gods may be testing you.”
“Testing me?” Wilbur asked, as he absentmindedly tossed a chunk of cookie into his mouth.
“Yeah, they want to know if you’ll do what it takes to stay on their good side. But this is a good thing, really. It’s your opportunity to show them how much you trust their guidance. I’ve heard that once someone passes such a test, the gods often bring them their heart’s desire. Wouldn’t that be cool?”
“For sure,” Wilbur replied, as his gaze drifted off.
“Get your dirty mind off my girl,” Shing started to shout, but said instead, “So, what are you going to do?”
Wilbur thought a moment before replying, “I guess I’ll call Lin Shu and ask if I can have tomorrow off.”
“You’re going to call him this late?” Shing said. “Really? He
hates being called at home, especially about something that’s going to mess his schedule up the next day. Maybe you better let me take care of it for you.”
“You’d do that for me?” Wilbur asked.
“Well, only because it involves the gods,” Shing replied. “It’s not smart to mess with them.”
“I really appreciate it.” Wilbur hesitated for a moment before walking over and giving Shing a hug. “ I don’t know how to repay you.”
“Maybe you can put a good word in for me with the gods,” Shing said, as he felt his ribs start to crack. This dude is strong as an ox and twice as stupid, he thought. He almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
The next morning when Lin Shu entered his office, Shing was already there. “We have a problem,” he said, frowning as though he’d just lost his best friend.
“Good morning to you too, Shing. Can’t you at least wait until I get my second cup of tea before dropping bad news on me?”
“I’m sorry, but it’s not of my doing,” Shing replied. “It’s Wilbur. He won’t be in today. We’ll have to find someone else to wash the dishes and take out the trash.”
“Really? That’s curious. He’s been so dependable,” Lin Shu replied. “How did this come about?”
“I don’t know for sure. He just told me late last night that he had other plans for today. I tried to get more out of him, even explained what a hardship it would cause, but to no avail. He just said he really needed a break. You know, you just can’t get good help these days. These kids...”
“Now wait just a minute. Don’t go berating our kids. We’ve had good fortune with those we’ve employed and that includes Wilbur. I wasn’t all that keen on the idea when his uncle first approached me, but he’s been a godsend. I think he’s right. He does deserve a day off. I really don’t see a problem here at all.”
“You don’t?” Shing asked. “But who’ll wash the dishes, take out the trash? And there’s a shipment of supplies due in this afternoon. Who’s going to take care of that?”
Fantastic Fables of Foster Flat Volume Two Page 6
