A Meaningful “Duel” We’d, Had

His son ended up, checking his MATE in this one!  Translated…

I: Why?

Summer: there’s no why.

I: There must be a reason why you like it, or why it’s, meaningful to you!

Summer: Why must there be meaning to things that we like?

It was the final morning of the long Children’s Day weekend, Summer was not yet nine.  We’d made a date, to read together, to put a perfect end to this holiday.  I’d selected the book, “The Melancholic Death of Oyster Boy” by Tim Burton.  As Summer turned to the first page, he’d, fallen in love—because there’s, not that many words in the book.  But, the odd drawings, it’d, immediately, lured him, into the storyline.

On the lanai, I lit my pipe up, drank my coffee, and, started, flipping through the book about the Scotch Whiskey Brewery.  With the turning of the pages, Summer kept making weirds sorts of noises, funny, the clicks of his tongue, and in a blink of an eye, he’d, finished reading.

Just as I would, I’d, asked him what he thought of the story.

Summer thought that all the kids in the story were too weird.  I’d prodded, which character he liked the most.  Without any hesitation, he’d replied: Kid Stain.  And I’d asked “why” next.  Then came, the following conversation.

“Why must there be a reason I like something?”——toward this boomerang back at me, I’d, stuttered.  As Summer saw I couldn’t find a rebuttal, he’d, happily, closed the book, thanked me for selecting it for him, said he really loved it.  Then, he’d, become, quite serious, and made a suggestion, let’s watch a movie on MOD at lunch.

And he’d stressed, that I should select the movie.  Suddenly, I’d felt my chest get tighter, it was quite odd, there must be a trick, I’d started, stuttering, again.

Summer secretly smiled and told me, that seeing a movie, but having to keep what he thought over what he was viewing to himself, it was, boring.  At that moment, there were, infinite symbols that came to my mind, those emoticons that, popped up.  For instance, how old are you, kid?  I’d kept it to myself however, and made a pact with him, that after the movie, he is to share with me, what he thought of what he saw.  He’d immediately, agreed, which made it, even more, weird.

At noon, I’d, followed his orders, made lunch for him, then, intentionally, selected the complex plot story, “The Stone” by the Korean director, Cho Se-Rae, his very first, and final, production.

As we sat down to eat, Summer watched the movie with focus.  As it’d finished, he’d, added an odd request, he’d wanted to play the survival racing game he’d just downloaded on his cell phone.  And that was when it’d, dawned on me, that he’d planned this, all along.  I’d not objected, but he’d needed to give me a “meaningful point of view” of this movie.

Summer almost, completely, dictated what he’d gained from watching.  Let me give you a quick plot description—the go genius, Ming-Shiu met the head mob, Nan-Hai.  As the head, Nan-Hai never lowered his head to anybody, but, as he’d met Ming-Shiu, he’d, decided to learn to play the game from him.  And, Ming-Shiu, for unknown reasons, asked to join in the gang.  And, this request of his, it’d, put Nan-Hai in a, difficult spot.

I’d found the hole, and, stated, that he was giving me a summary of the movie, not what he thought.  Summer asked me then, what is perspective?  And finally, I’d, let out, of those, three-hour locked in thoughts, straightened my back, and, explained how just as he’d told, that the after the movies, stating what he’d found meaningful from what he saw, that was, a perspective.  And, as I’d, played my hand, there was, that twisted look that took over Summer’s expressions.  I’d started gloating, that he can, play the cell phone games, but he needed to give me a persuasive point of view.  This time, I’d, emphasized—something that means, something TO you!

At the age of not-yet-nine, Summer’s facial expression twisted even more, and displease crawled, over his face.  I’d, cleaned off the table, with my lightened mood, walked back onto the lanai, and, continued my pipe, my unfinished, glass of whiskey.  Then, about a few minutes later, he’d blocked me at the lanai, and stared me down, stated, “Ming-Shiu and Nan-Hai are two men of different worlds.  Different people from different world, can become, friends!”

I flew into, a bit of, a panic, can’t find the flaws of this thought, I’d taken a drink from my whiskey glass, and, agreed that he could, now use, my cell phone.  And so, Summer’s smiles bloomed on his face, like that kids with dirty stains covering up his shirt and pants, who’d, understood, that “meaningful smile!”

And so, this, is a pair of father and son, engaging in a duel of wits, and, this may be one of the few moments in this man’s life, that he actually, got to, engage in meaningful conversation with his son, and his son, checked his mate too!