W.K. prepares to carry the thief away from the lot, with him. He plans to hoist her over one of his shoulders. The man isn’t a brawny fellow, but he’s some macho man. Lots of lean muscle, W.K. has. Lots.
He’s able to lift the girl like a guy would lift many logs. W.K. turns slowly- the unconscious thief is quite heavy- and he’s facing the entrance of the parking area. W.K. takes a deep breath. W.K. almost drops the girl he’s carrying because suddenly there’s a car in front of him, its bright headlights blazing like lighthouses.
W.K. gets this familiar feeling: Caution. Epic Migraine Approaching. Run For Your Life, W.K. You know you never like it. Take the girl and run, please. Run, now. Run ‘cause it’s…
W.K.’s ominous feeling ends abruptly. The car’s driver steps out, headlights like lighthouses, still on. Left to blaze so brightly. No, the person who has come from the car isn’t another agent, he’s someone else. He’s some other guy, and he has quite the voice on him.
‘WAH* W.K*. ! WHAT DO YOU HAVE THERE*? A GIRL*, I SEE*. W.K.’s GOT A GIRL*. WOW WOW WOW*.GREAT FUN I’LL HAVE WITH DEAR W.K.* IN* THIS R.P. PLACE* WOW WOW WOW*.LET’S* HAVE A LOOK-SEE ATCHER* WOW WOW WOW* WOW WOW WOW*.’ This is in the booming voice of the fellow from the car.
(W.K. means Wayang Kulit. It is a pet name. Charles Su is also known as the player. Shadow Chaser. But it was the other way around. Charles had a shadow, a side-kick cum assistant. Believe it or not, W.K.’s assistant goes by the alias of Tick. T*I*C*K)
‘What? And you’re here? Tick, beat it. I don’t need you. Go away.’ , W.K. tells the voice.
‘GO*AWAY*? NO WAY*. I need the extra Gs*. What are you going to do, W.K. * Fly from here*? You can’t because your underwear’s inside your pants, ya *.
‘*’ was a tic on T*I*C*K. A speech mannerism. ‘*’ was a sound that he made, to accentuate his words. ‘*’ sounded like ‘tsk’, or some beat box tune. Mr. Tick has only the worst kinds of jokes on him. Worst kinds of jokes to his name. He was a 20 year old boy from Ampang. Tick’s a reminder for W.K. He’s who WK would have been if the projects hadn’t cured WK.
Just then, W.K. wanted to punch his side-kick cum assistant, but decided against doing so. It has been mentioned that W.K. is a very vain man; he didn’t want to hurt his hands.
‘What’s* the *matter*, W.K.*? I know you’d like to punch me, Mr. W.K.*. You can’t* because 1* you got a girl* and 2* underwear’s still inside the pants*. Come on,. W.K.* F.E. gave us a hot car for Tick here to drive*. Go zoom-zoom* you get?* Come on,. W.K.* Bring watch’u have there, and let your Tick take you for nice zoom ride to headquarts, ya?*’
‘It’s headquarters, Tick. (.)You’re an idiot, do you know? Ah you. A thick brained Ampang idiot. (.) Full bodied with the most appalling flavors._ Loathe to think what they are, really(.) _ _ _ _ _ So, where is that, exactly?’
(.) and _ bring you huff-puff and groan, respectively. (.) and _ from W.K. as he carried the girl into the car, gently placing her on the backseat. She’s still unconscious and this worries W.K. some.
Tick looks at W.K. who’s seated to the right of the driver’s seat.
‘ Shaddup, Mr. K. REEE-LAX*, ya?* Leave it to Tick. * Look, W.K.* Check out the sound* Wow wow wow. We go zoom-zoom now, ya.* Hang on, Mr. K.* This Ampang idiot feels like some wings on a zoom-zoom.* Are you ready? * * *’
W.K. answers his side-kick cum assistant. “Ya. Sure. Go.”
‘Ya? Oh-key, Mr. K.* But, check out the sound* ok?*’
Tick revs up the engine and spins the car ‘round, a truly awful kind of 360 degree spin, so truly awful that W.K. has to hold on to the rolled down window, his side of the car.
‘What the hell, Tick?’, he asks Tick, with much feeling.
Questions like this one always go without answers, especially when for someone like Tick, who is driving a cool, black, elegant convertible, with its top down, and it’s got powerful stereo speakers playing the thud-thump- honk- donk psychedelic melody and words of “I’ve never met a girl like you before”. And Tick just can’t help himself.
The 20 year old, who’s a thin boy wearing Nikes, long denim shorts, and what seems to be just the largest orange T-shirt with the label ‘Abercrombie’ in bold print on it, speaks while the pimples on his face jiggle to the sonic bass beats of the thud-thump-honk-donk Edwyn Collins chart topping pop song.
Here’s what he tells W.K, ‘ I Looooooooove Manila, Don’t You Mr. K?* * * Well, Don’t You?’ .
W.K. shakes his head, doesn’t answer Tick.
‘What is it? Has the world gone poorah, and I wasn’t informed?’ he quietly states.
Feeling rather tired, he’s had a long day, W.K. closes his eyes and takes a nap.
* * * * *