This is the short story that I wrote for English. I just felt like posting it on my blog! So if you feel like reading it, pull up a chair and grab some chocolate to munch on, because this could get long.
The Tale of a Boy
Once upon a time, with the lamest beginning, this story was born. And with this story, came Juneth. Juneth was a man, who, like many others, enjoyed a good ham and cheese sandwich every night at 10:43 PM. He was always on time with his daily dosage of ham and cheese in the middle of delicious white bread. He was always on time because it was part of his nature. You will begin to see why as our story begins…
Not once, but twice upon a time, a boy was brought into this world. He was loved and appreciated for the first two years of his life in a very wealthy family. He had everything a newborn baby would want! A rattler, a pet unicorn, a memory foam crib, but the only thing this boy did not have was a name. You see, his parents couldn’t think of anything they thought would fit his personality. They thought of everything! Twib, Kazomi, Yangzu, Poyoka, but nothing felt just right. So, for the first two years of his life, this baby remained nameless. Then, tragedy struck his family.
Both of his parents met their demise while at a world cup soccer match. They were both die hard fans of the soccer team, The Wild Beavers. Literally. Unfortunately, The Wild Beavers lost the match and the boy’s parents were so upset that they threw themselves off of the top of the stadium, landing on an ice cream stand. Luckily, the ice cream stand broke their fall. Quite soon after that, however, a car in the parking lot exploded and sent shrapnel flying in all directions. They were both decapitated instantly.
After the tragic death of this boy’s two parents, the two year old boy inherited all of the money that his parents had, but since he was only two, people decided that he wasn’t ready to handle that yet. From the ages 2 to 23, the boy was raised in a foster home in Seattle, Washington called, “The Foster Home,” or TFH for short. On his 23rd birthday, the boy received all of the money that his parents had left to him when they died, but that’s not what the boy wanted. You see, he still remained nameless. The foster home that raised him decided that it was a dishonor to the parents to name their only child, so they just left it as nothing. He was tired of being referred to as, “that one kid” or “hey you!” What he really wanted for his birthday was a name! What was the worst though was when they sang the Happy Birthday song to him that day. Some stupid kid named Chester from the foster home had come up one year with a space to fill in the spot where the person’s name usually goes. It wasn’t even clever either! So for ten years now whenever somebody sang the birthday song to the boy, it went, “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear that one kid that never got named cause his parents died by decapitation, happy birthday to you!” Yeah, he was sick of it.
So the boy decided to ditch the foster home (and that stupid Chester kid who would always skip around the house with a runny nose singing the birthday song to him even when it wasn’t his birthday), and go out into the world to find a life. So that’s what the boy did. From the Seattle airport he decided that he wanted to fly to Japan. Unfortunately the airport security didn’t buy that he didn’t have a name. After several attempts on the boy’s part, security started thinking that he was a terrorist and they called in S.W.A.T. The boy booked it.
After buying a car with cash (again because of the name thing), the boy drove to Chicago, OH. When he arrived, he immediately saw a billboard for job hiring’s at Joe’s Greasy Burger Hut. After filling out an application, he was called in for an interview with Joe’s cousin.
“So I was noticin’ that you didn’t put your name on this here line,” grumbled Ralph, Joe’s cousin. He didn’t look like he had exactly gotten off of the good end of the bed that morning, and his hair was in greasy tangles.
“Well sir, you see, I…” the boy wandered off.
“You doesn’t what?” Snarled Ralph.
“…Don’t have a name,” stammered the boy after a long pause. “My parents never named me sir.”
Ralph just sat there, one eyelid half shut and a tilted head, as if he didn’t know what to say to that. Finally after what seemed to the boy like an eternity, Ralph threw back his head and let out the loudest belch that the boy had ever heard in his life.
“If there was a world record for belching,” the boy thought, “this man surely would have beaten it by at least 200 decibels.”
“Ahem,” Ralph grunted. “I think I missed your answer. What was you sayin’ your name was again?”
The boy didn’t have it in him to say again that he was nameless, so he just got up and left leaving Ralph looking like another explosion from his chest was coming.
After leaving Joe’s Greasy Burger Hut (and wiping his hands off on twelve napkins that he had taken on the way out), the boy saw just across the street a business for making passports. What his luck! He decided that he would go check it out. As soon as he walked into the building though, everything went black.
When the boy woke up, he was in a large, empty warehouse with only one person besides himself there.
“Excuse me,” the boy dared. “Can you tell me where I am?”
The other man in the room swirled around, obviously surprised. He grabbed a walkie-talkie off of his belt and started jabbering away in some foreign language. The boy had never heard anybody besides an American talk in English before, so he had no idea where he was. The man in the room put back his walkie-talkie and in bad English ordered,
“You come with me now.”
The boy didn’t want to argue, so he got up and went with the strange man. As they passed out of the warehouse, the boy found himself in a very urban area. The man that he was following proceeded to go into the next largest building in the area. When they got inside, the boy found himself face to face with what looked like an Asian drug lord. The mysterious man gestured for him to sit down, so the boy did.
“We know who you are, but you don’t know who we are,” the Asian man said in perfect English. He had a slight Chinese accent it seemed. “Well I’ll tell you who we are, and then I’ll tell you who you are.”
“I… Uh…” the boy stammered.
“Don’t talk. Just listen. Your parents died when you were two years old, you were raised in The Foster Home until just recently, and you still don’t have a name.” The Asian spoke with such authority that the boy didn’t think he could respond, even if all of the information was wrong!
“We are an organization called Flubbuh Jugguh.” Seriously? Ok, now that was a little too much for the boy to handle.
“Ha ha ha ha ha ha!” The boy burst out. He shut his mouth quickly though, for fear of harsh punishment. The Asian continued as if he hadn’t heard anything.
“We’re an organization of crime. We deal drugs to the Caribbean. You’re going to be part of us.” So he was a drug lord.
“What?!” The boy exclaimed. “Why should I assist you in crime?”
“Because we have a name for you.” Wow. They really knew how to get to a guy.
“Ok. I’ll help, but you have to tell me my name.” The Asian smiled.
“Your name is Juneth Kang Yuzumi.”
“Alright, that’s a long shot. I don’t even look Asian! Why is that my name?” Juneth questioned.
“Because I said so. Now you’re going to help us with a package of marijuana that we’re distributing to the locals of Haiti…”
The Asian went on to describe Juneth’s mission. As he was explaining, Juneth couldn’t think of anything but his name. His name! He finally had one! After the Asian had given him his mission run-down, Juneth politely declined and walked out of the building. The Asian was so stunned that he let him just walk out. Nobody had ever said no to him before! Juneth was a first.
After gaining a real passport with his name on it, Juneth came to find out that he was in Tokyo, Japan. The place that he wanted to visit when he first got out of The Foster Home! But for some reason, he didn’t care. He had his own name! Juneth flew back to Seattle, where he bought a home and got a job as a postal worker. He wasn’t in it for the money, it was just something to occupy his time with since he already had over five million dollars in the money that his parents had left him.
So now back to how the story began. You may be asking yourself why in the world Juneth enjoyed a ham and cheese sandwich every night at exactly 10:43 PM. Now I will answer that. It’s because he was so content with his life now that he had a name that he felt like all he needed in life was a good ham and cheese sandwich and a good book! Hey, he even told everybody that he was Japanese even though he was raised in Seattle just because his name was Japanese! Oh and Flubbuh Jugguh? Juneth informed the International Drug Team (IDT) of all of the details that had been given to him in his debriefing in Tokyo. Flubbuh Jugguh was taken down and everybody in the organization was sentenced to a lifetime of service in assisting aquatic mammals give birth. Juneth was given an extra one million dollars for that too because Flubbuh Jugguh happened to be the most wanted drug dealer organization in the world! You ask about the leader of Flubbuh Jugguh? When they found him in the hideout in Tokyo, he was still sitting in the same spot that he was when Juneth had declined to work for him, with the same expression still on his face. Juneth also went on to… Oh! 10:43 PM! Excuse me while I go have my daily ham and cheese sandwich.
The End
