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There were a stack of papers sitting on the table. He had procrastinated long enough and it was time for him to correct them. He was a junior high school teacher, so the students’ reports were only a couple of pages each. After only a couple of hours he was almost finished. The last essay was quite strange. Every ‘A’ had been removed or it is more accurate to say that there were no ‘A’s’ on the paper. Even the name of the student was signed ‘lln’. The teacher knew this student well. His essays were usually done very lazily and the teacher had never given him more than a B. He thought about not bothering to correct the paper and to just give the student an F, but he didn’t want the student to get the better of him. Instead, the teacher went about replacing all the missing A’s. The paper took several hours to correct because the process was rather tedious, but by taking the extra time the teacher got a profound understanding of what the
student was trying to say. In fact, the essay was quite insightful. It was by the far the best essay he had ever seen written by one of his students.
The next day, the teacher returned the essays. After class was over, the teacher asked the student of the A-less paper to stay. He wanted to ask the student why he had submitted
such an unusual essay; why had he removed all the A’s. The student explained that he knew that he never really tried to write a good essay, but resented the teacher for always giving him mediocre grades. The student felt that if the teacher wasn’t willing to give an A, then why should he give the teacher an A. The process of removing the A’s from the essay had actually given the student much difficulty. He had to write and rewrite essay several times and in the process he had become very aware of what he was writing. The student looked at his paper on it was
written an A. In Korea, English is an important language to learn. It is so important that many families will spend a large amount of money to send their children to English academies. Sometimes the children learn a lot at those academies, sometimes they are hopeless at learning. Maybe, it is due to not paying attention. Maybe it is due to a lack of effort. Maybe it is due to the fact that the child just can’t learn a new language. Sometimes it was for all these reasons that a child can’t pick up the language. This was the case of one rich man’s daughter. He had tried countless academies, but with no luck. She did manage to learn to say the word “cat” but didn’t understand what it meant. The father thought to himself, “how it is that I could have such a dull witted daughter.” Desperate he decided that it was best that his daughter should be sent abroad. He had heard that when a child is surrounded in an all English environment they could pick up the language in a few months. He found an English family in Canada that was willing to
teach and care for his daughter. On the phone he spoke to the family. His English was not good, so he needed an interpreter to speak with the family. “Please make sure to take good care of my daughter and to help her with her English lessons. Send her back when she has learned to speak English.” was the message the conveyed by the interpreter. The family told him not to worry they had much experience teaching foreign students and always had good results. Also, the family told him that since none of them knew any Korean, the only way the child and they could communicate would be through English. At the airport the father lovingly kissed his daughter and said her, “remember to try really hard to learn English and I will see you in a few months.” The months passed, however,
his daughter had not returned. The father became worried about his daughter and decided to call the family. The phone rang several times before there was answer. “Yah-bo-se-yo”, said the voice that picked up the phone with a perfect Korean accent. It was not his daughter’s voice. It was the voice of one of the Canadian family’s young boys. The rich man asked where his daughter was. The young boy gave the phone to his father, who responded all the rich man’s questions also in Korean. The rich man found out that they family had spent every moment they could trying to teach his daughter English, but with no success. In the end the family decided that she was hopeless and sent her back to Korea. They said she will arrive in Korea the following night. When the daughter arrived in the Korean airport, the rich man gave her a big hug and hug and asked her what she had learned. It turned out that she had learned how to spell cat. She said proudly “C... A... T...”, but she still no had no understanding of what a cat was. I had only 10 minutes to finish the story. I had to write quickly. I wrote as fast as I could. It felt like my hand was going to fall off. Our teacher had given us homework, which I had completely forgotten to do. He had told us that if we didn’t get it finished on time, we were not allowed to go on the school ski trip. My friend reminded me with just 10 minutes to spare. I grabbed a piece of paper and began to write. I was panicking, I had no idea what to write. I just wrote. I wasn’t sure I was even making any sense. The teacher said it had to be a story about something that happened to us. I wrote: My father died, when I was very young so I never knew what it was like to have real a father. My mother had raised me by herself until I was about ten, when she remarried. The person she married seemed strange to me in someway but at the time I really couldn’t say what exactly was strange about the person. Maybe it was because they were not like what I had always imagined a stepfather should be like. I imagined someone who was strong and liked baseball and maybe even would want to tell me to go see a game sometime. Believed that only stepfathers or real fathers could relate to their sons man to man. I imagined that I could tell my stepfather my darkest manliest secrets and the stepfather would understand and help me become a man. I always felt that it was the father’s role to teach their son how to become a man. The father should teach the son how to act mucho, how to shave, and how to pick up girls. At time I really didn’t want to pick up girls yet, but I knew that someday, when I was a man I would want to do so. Throughout my early childhood I wondered what it would be like to have a stepfather. I even encouraged my mom to date and get remarried. I had introduced her to some of my teachers
from school with hopes that I would have them as a stepfather. She tried dating them, but never seemed to like them. After what seemed like an endless number of blind date failures, I had almost given up hope that my mother would ever get remarried. But then one day, she told me that she had met someone that she really liked and they were going to get married. I was so happy that I gave my mother a big hug, even though it was really against my nature to be affectionate. Finally, someone who could teach me how to be a man. I needed this. The next day without even ever had meeting my soon to be stepfather, I went to school and bragged to all my friends. The short fat boy with glasses listened carefully as I described the manly titian who was going to be my stepfather. I figured that my stepfather was going to be similiar to superman or batman, except they wouldn’t have to wear a costume. The wedding was over and looked at my new stepfather. Upon seeing my stepfather, I understood why my mother never liked any of the people I had tried to fix her up with. My stepfather was very different than any of them. My stepfather was very different indeed. Where as, all the people I had tried to fix my mother up with were strong, tall men, my stepfather was none of these things. My stepfather was not even a man, but a woman. I reflected upon what I expected the stepfather to teach me: How to act mucho... I wasn’t sure if my stepfather could do that eventhough my stepfather was quite butch. How to shave...it seemed though this one might be impossible. How to pick up girls... atleast knew my stepfather would be very good at showing me this. In the smoke filled backroom of closed restaurant, four man sat at a table playing cards. On the table was more money than most people make in a year. The game was poker. It was being played by those who really didn’t have the money to spend, but they were willing to risk everything they had if it meant they could win even more. The game had begun innocently enough a few dollars won and lost, but these men were not the type to let it go at that. They brought with them gold watches, rings, their wife’s jewelry, and even the deeds to their homes. The game quickly became serious and very unfriendly. After several hours of playing, only two remained. Both had had a successful night, but both wanted it all. The other two players, now destitute from their losses, watched from the side. The remaining two players seemed evenly matched and neither gave any indication of weakening. One would win a fortune and the next hand the other would win it back. The stakes were raised and raised again. Eventually, all of the money, family items, and even their suits were on the table. They had to call; there was no way they could raise anymore. Both players were confident they had won the game. Both said, “There’s no way you can beat this hand.” However, neither were willing to show their cards until the other had shown their hand. It was decided they would show their cards at the same time. “One, two, three...” they said as they revealed their cards. Both had royal flushes, an excellent hand. The problem was they were both of the same suit. Someone was cheating, but who? The streets were crowded with people. They were rushing here, there, and everywhere. Rushing for last minute Christmas shopping or to buy a turkey for Christmas dinner. A plain clothed police officer was also rushing. His destination was home. He looked forward to being out of the cold and free from his work. He didn’t feel the spirit of Christmas. Instead, he saw it as a big con. What is Christmas? For him, it meant just an increase in crime. It meant people would get drunk and do stupid things. He had had a rough day and needed rest. As he moved through the crowds, he felt a nudge then a bump. The man, who had run into to him, apologized and wished him a ‘Merry Christmas’, then dashed off. The cop knew what had happened. He felt his pocket. It was emptied, he had been robbed. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, he went into police chase mode. This pickpocket was going to be his and there would be no mercy. The chase lasted for quite some time and led them through the many streets and alleyways of the city. The cop allowed the criminal to get some distance, to make him believe that he had gotten away. Then, he followed him, slowly carefully, as if he were stalking a prey. The cop watched as the culprit slipped into one of the dingy apartment buildings. The cop followed him. The cop saw, which apartment the thief entered and quickly ran to the thief’s apartment door. The cop listened at the door for a moment. It was always good to cautious. Gently, he turned to knob, it was unlocked. “This criminal will regret stealing from me”, he thought as he pushed open the door and leaped into the room. Inside was a small poorly furnished apartment and in middle of the room was the man, he had chased for so long. Also, there was a little girl, she couldn’t have been more than six years old. In the man’s hand was the cop’s wallet. “Hand it over and put your hands up. You’re coming with me to the precinct.” the cop said showing his police badge. The man gave up, passed the wallet to the cop, and raised his hands. The cop returned the wallet to his pocket. During all of this, the little girl’s face became very sad and she looked up at her father and said, “Daddy, does this mean there’ll be no Christmas turkey.” Her voice was so sad and so innocent that it could make a tear come to one’s eye. The cop felt suddenly different. He realized that the man had only stolen to feed his beautiful daughter. The Christmas spirit had touched him. “Put your hands down”, he said feeling somewhat forgiving. “Just don’t do this again and take good care of your daughter.” “Thank you, officer...I’ll never do it again, honest,” the thief said as he lowered his hands. The girl's face became very bright, she rushed over to cop and hugged him. The cop blushed at the girl's affection. He left feeling as though he had done the right thing. Once the cop had gone for quite sometime, the little girl looked up at her father and showing him the policeman’s wallet, she said, “Daddy, now can we have a Christmas turkey?”
The detective was hoping that the interrogation wouldn’t take long. He knew that this was just another crack pot, who wanted to take credit for the crime of the century. There had been a series of murders, which had baffled the police for almost two years. Each time the murder have been quite violent, but done with an element of style. It was the originality of the way the people had died that drew in a cult following. The murderer was sickly glorified by these people and the detective wasted much time meeting with people who claimed to have committed the crimes. The man, he was interrogating, was somewhat different from the others. He knew the details of the case very well. How the body was placed, where the murder weapons were found, and he said the facts so convincingly. He was really very believable. The man even gave a complicated explanation of why he had committed the murder. He confessed so vividly that the detective could actually imagine him doing the crimes. With this kind of confession, the case could be easily closed. It would be obvious to anyone that this man had done it. The detective knew though that the man was lying and demanded the man to speak the truth. The man’s story didn’t change, he didn’t break. The repeated that he was the murderer, it was all very convincing. It seemed that even the man believed his own lies, the detective thought. The detective decided to close the case. The case was solved and soon would be forgotten. The detective knew that this man hadn’t done it, but it didn’t matter. All that was important was man the believed he had done it and others would believe him. Soon everyone would believe that this man had committed the crime of the century; everyone except the detective, for he knew something that everyone else didn’t. He knew that he had committed the crime of the century and had gotten away with it. I suppose you have all heard the story of love potion #9. Well, if one searches long enough in the volumes of old alchemy books, the recipe can be found. Sometimes this recipe is truly needed. This was the case of the local librarian, who by all accounts was homely. She almost never spoke and when she did her voice was like that of little mouse. However, this was a woman with a secret. Her secret is now common knowledge, so I can tell it. The secret was that she was in love with the town’s young doctor. I guess this wasn’t much of a secret considering every single woman (and some not so single women) was in love with him. He was charming, good looking, and an all around perfect man. However, he had avoided the approaches of the women. The librarian was determined to make him love her, even if she had to resort to magic or trickery. She searched and searched and eventually found the recipe for famous love potion #9. When she found it, she let out a high pitched squeak, which was probably the loudest she had ever been, out of excitement. She immediately closed the library and went home to prepare the potion. She was amazed how easy it was to prepare. The last direction was to let it sit for three days, so that it wouldn’t be too strong. She ignored this direction; she needed it to be as strong as possible. She poured the liquid into a perfume vile and sprayed herself with the perfume. It smelled awful, but this didn’t make her hesitate. She threw on her coat and was off to the doctor’s house. Anxiously, she rang the doctor’s door bell. It was late and the light were off. After a dozen or more rings his light came on and she could hear his footsteps. He was coming. Quickly, she sprayed herself again; you can never have too much she thought. he opened the door and stood in front of her. At first, he looked upset, then it happened, the magic had taken affect. In his eyes she could see that he loved her, but there was something more. His eyes became red and swollen. In fact, his whole face had ballooned up. He collapsed and was quite still. Without intending it, she had killed him. All his life, he too had a secret. At his office, he insisted that the people, who visited him, were not to wear any form of perfume. In the streets, he always avoided encounters with women. The reason for this behavior was, he was deathly allergic to perfume.
He was blindfolded, and his hands and feet were in shackles. He was held by two large men, who guided him to the room. It could be barely considered a room; it was barely big enough for him to fit. He could stand, not sit and no one else could fit into the room. The two men left him there closing and locking the door behind them. The walls of the room were made with two-way mirrors, so that the witnesses, who had gathered could watch. The man stood preparing for his death, nodding his head in a little prayer. Water began pouring down from above, within a few minutes the water would fill the room and he would be dead. As water filled the room, another man spoke. He explained that this form of execution was possibly the least painful way to die. Also, this was the first time for this method to be performed. The water was cold and was quickly raising above his knees. He moved violently, but could not rid himself of the shackles or break free. Using his fists, he hit the glass walls of the room, nothing happened. The water rose up to his chin and was, at times, entering his mouth. A few of the witnesses made the sign of the cross on their chests and others gasped. As the water reached above his head, one woman screamed a plea for the man to be rescued. No one helped him. A curtain was lowered, so that the witnesses would be spared the actual sight of the man’s death. Just before the curtain lowered, the witnesses saw the man struggle and twitch. Afterward, the witnesses could hear the sounds of the man’s fists futilely hitting the glass walls. Then, there was silence. Slowly, the curtain was raised so that the witnesses could verify the death. Once the curtain was completely raised, there was a hush that filled the room. The witnesses looked at the room with amazement. The man was gone. Suddenly, someone shouted, "Look!" There, high above, stood the man. He spoke, "Thank you ladies and gentlemen. I hope you enjoyed the magic show we have presented for
you tonight in the circus ring." He had always been terrible about remembering their anniversary dates. His girlfriend would complain that he forgot the dates of every important event in their lives. They had been living together for five years and had been seeing each other long before that. However, they never got hitched. They loved each other, but there were times when they could really get on each others nerves. The woman enjoyed celebrating each little anniversary and would make it into a special night. She would play the music that was on during time the event happened. She would even wear the same clothes, if they still fit. Always, she would prepare a grand feast with candles and soft lighting and would await her man to come home. When he came home, he would always know that something was being celebrated, but what was the problem. He would rack his brain to remember as he would slowly approach her. However, usually he didn’t have a clue. It wasn’t completely his fault though; the anniversaries could be quite obscure. Like the time when she wore the butterfly hairpin and old fashioned dress to celebrate the first time they saw a movie together. In the background, the music played, “ and my heart will go on...” He would try to guess, but was horrible at it. He guessed that it was the anniversary of the time when they first took a cruise together. His wrong answers would greatly disappoint her, she had tried so hard to prepare the mode so that there would be no possible way he could forget. However, he would forget. His guesses only made it worse. It showed that he had no idea of what they were supposed to be celebrating and this bothered her more then anything. She would then say, “you can’t remember the time we first...” and would storm into the bedroom, locking the door behind her. These fights won’t last long. In the end he would apologize and do something extra nice for her and all would be forgiven. Things pretty much went on this way, until one day the man had gotten home before the woman. He prepared the feast, the music, and the lights. When she came home, she was very surprised. She had gotten use to being the one prepared the anniversary celebration and this was strange to her. Even more strange was she had no idea of why they were celebrating. She began thinking about all the possible anniversaries, but she had no idea. “Was it the anniversary of the time we first went to lunch, no that’s in April,” she thought, “maybe it’s the anniversary of the day we first held hands... hmmm, that’s in December.” He asked her what anniversary it was. She tried to guess, but still didn’t know. He seemed disappointed by her answers. Eventually, after many guesses she gave up and asked, “what anniversary is it?” Pretending to be upset, he bent down on one knee and said, “one year from now will be the anniversary of the day I asked you to marry me.”
© 1997 allanp@unitel.co.kr
English Lessons
10 Minute Story
“I like pizza. I eat pizza.”
This was not going to cut it with the teacher. He would realize that I hadn’t really done my homework. There was 8 minutes left. I wrote:
“I like pizza because once there was a magical pizza in my life.”
This was better, but seemed very strange. The teacher would still know. I had to make it interesting and believable. I wrote:
“Once when I was very young , I had an essay to write for school. Also, I had test to write. I did the essay, but didn’t have time to study for the test. In the morning, I had pizza for breakfast. It was a magical pizza. When I got to school, some of the bigger and dumber kids threatened to beat me up, if I didn’t give them the essay. They hadn’t done their homework. Luckily, I had eaten the magical pizza. The magical made my stomach twist and turn. As the bullies were pushing me around, I could feel something move. It was the magical pizza.”
There were only 2 minutes left. The teacher was coming. I wrote:
“The boys shock me more. The magical pizza began to do its magic. It jumped and bumped. Then it leaped out of my body. The magical pizza had landed all over the bullies. They stopped pushing me and ran away. It was magic.”
Only one minute was left: I wrote:
“The magic pizza had saved me. Also, I didn’t have to write the test. So I happily went home.”
The teacher had walked in as I was writing and saw that I hadn’t finished. I wrote at the bottom of the page:
“I wish I had some more magical pizza now. THE END”
Step Father
Cheating
Christmas Turkey
Interrogation
Perfume
Ring
Anniversary
For more Stories: Go to Page 1
For more Stories: Go to Page 3
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