Whatever (Part 1)
by BrDPirateMan
"Prince! Prince!"
"We love you!"
"Marry me!"
The 5,000-strong crowd was going nuts. Their collective cheering was louder than the Concorde taking off. They were screaming their heads off because of the presence of the hugely popular pop star in front of them.
Eiji Oji, more popularly known as The Prince.
He was the legendary J-Pop singer with albums and franchises and numerous other cash cows at his fingertips. Girls flocked to see him, guys wished they could be him. His blog, "F Everything", where the F word meant Fabulous and not what you would normally think, saw close to a million hits per day. His influence was so powerful that he could sway and bend the trends to his will. If he walked down the streets wearing a set of new clothes, everyone would be clambering to the nearest boutique to buy them. If he F'ed a new ramen shop on his blog, it would be full house by the next day.
The Prince was the very epitome of superstar greatness. He was unparalleled in talent and in success.
His latest concert was highly anticipated to be the greatest event of the year, if not the decade. He had practiced countless times, and was by now in 100% sync with his posse of dancers, back-up singers and musicians. A smile spread across his dashing face, and he winked at the audience, which comprised mostly girls in their tender teenage years. Everyone went wild.
He opened his mouth to belt out one of his most famous songs, a weird warbling medley about watching clear skies and fighting back angst. The air was electric and many of the concert-goers were so moved by his performance that they wept and fainted and had to be whisked away by security.
When the last note of the song sounded, the crowd applauded and yelled their approval. The concert stage at A-East threatened to vibrate and disintegrate into a million pieces with their powerful screams. Looking at how much attention he was getting, The Prince couldn't resist a smirk. He was pleased with himself. As usual, he had achieved perfection. But it couldn't be helped, seeing as he was perfection itself.
XOXOXOXOXO
Too bad that was all just a dream.
The only screams that greeted him came from the radio of the alarm clock. Some heavy metal vocalist was wailing away and that woke him up for the morning. And on a Saturday too, when people should be resting and not working.
When The Prince realized that he was in his bedroom and not at A-East, he grumbled, inclined to smash his clock into the wall. But that was the only clock he had in his apartment, and he hardly had any money left to buy a new one, so he spared its miserable existence.
Apartment, you say? Yes, my friend, your eyes do not fail you. It is only natural for one to think that a famous superstar like him would stay in the penthouse of a very luxurious hotel, or at least a posh condominium with adjoining personal pool and servants at his beck and call. But in his current condition, the only place he could stay without living beyond his means was this dingy, stuffy, cramped hellhole of a common apartment in the suburbs.
The reason was simple. The Prince had chalked up a serious debt. Blinded by the vast amount of wealth he had accumulated over his career, he gradually took things for granted and started to spend his money on increasingly expensive things. Squandering his money away on various things ultimately led to his downfall. He already had several sports cars for his own personal use, but when he bought himself a brand new Rolls-Royce, arguably the most expensive car in existence, it marked the beginning of the end for him.
He didn't even think twice when he paid for it in full. But he had bitten off more than he could chew, and he soon realized that his savings were reaching the comparatively low amount of five digits, quite a shocking difference from the millions of yen that he used to hoard.
However, he thought to himself that he could bounce back soon, what with the sales of his albums and whatnot. But with inflation rearing its ugly head at the worst possible time, his income was weakening severely. Unfortunately, he was also short-sighted enough to buy several other costly tiddlywinks on an impulse. Which left him with even less money than before.
On top of that he had the audacity to dabble in a fair bit of gambling, something he wasn't good at. He never won a single game and lost a lot of money. Also deserving of special mention was the time when he…
Hmmm, you know, I can tell you're not listening. I'm sure you're all like "Get on with the story already" and all that. Indeed, it's so troublesome having to tell you each and every detail of his life. So do a Google search on him or go look him up on Wikipedia or something. I don't care. Like, whatever. Let us get back to the meat of this tale so you can be HAPPY.
What you do need to know, however, is that his contract with his recording studio had ended but they decided not to renew it, favouring other up-and-coming singers like Princess K, the entrepreneur-cum-artiste, over him. No other company wanted to forge a deal with him either. In short, he now had no source of income. He was broke.
Unable to maintain his high standard of living any longer, he made the first prudent decision in a long time: move out of his lavish home and downgrade to a simpler, easier-to-maintain one.
And that was how he wound up in the suburbs, cooped up in an uncomfortable apartment with no air-conditioning to cool the summer heat.
"Dammit," he cursed, sweating from head to toe. "Summer really stinks big time." How he longed to take a nice bath in a Jacuzzi. That would be most splendid, not like the showers with the rickety taps that he was forced to use, now that he had to live like some lowly commoner.
A loud banging on his door made The Prince nearly jump out of his moth-eaten bed. The voice that shouted through his door sounded like it came from a middle-aged lady, and an angry one at that. "Eiji! I hope you're ready to pay this week's rent!"
"Uh, why, of course, Mrs Kitamura!" stammered the ex-pop star, truly terrified of his landlady. "I'll get it ready by, um, this weekend!"
"It's Saturday today," growled the landlady. "It is the weekend."
"Oops. W-Well, how about tomorrow, then?"
"I'm tired of waiting, but fine! Give me your rent by tomorrow or I'll have to kick you out!"
"Y-Yes, ma'am!" The footsteps of the unseen landlady shuffled away, leaving him in peace again.
He fell back onto the pillow and rested a hand on his forehead. "How the hell am I going to find 30,000 yen, when I only barely have enough to buy myself a bowl of ramen?"
Then his tummy rumbled. "Oh cripes. Speaking of which, I gotta get breakfast now. It looks like it'll have to be shio ramen…" It was the least expensive full meal that he knew of. "Wait. Do I have enough money?"
He intended to have breakfast at Ramen Don, the shop of his old friend Ken Doi. Shio ramen was the cheapest item on sale, at 580 yen. Now if only he could scrounge up enough cash… He had to hurry too; he was to start work in an hour's time. If you're sharp enough to wonder why he had to work on a Saturday, the reason will be evident in time to come.
"Okay, 300… 400… 500… good, only 80 yen left…" The Prince flipped through his wallet. "10, 20…50, 60, 70… Dammit… I'm 10 yen short… And even though Ken's my old buddy, he wouldn't cut me some slack and treat me to any freebies…" Ken Doi was well-known for being firm with his customers. It didn't matter if you were his friend, a relative or a famous figure, but if you didn't have the right amount of cash, then no deal.
The Prince got on his hands and feet, crawling around the room searching for loose change. There were usually some coins left behind under the bed or behind the TV. He checked those places thoroughly but his hands emerged bare, covered only with dust and cobwebs. He was getting desperate and combed through his wallet again.
"Oh god, please be kind to me today," he prayed, shaking his wallet vigorously to dislodge any spare change that may have gotten wedged in the corners. "Please… I'm hungry… I need to eat too… I don't want to go hungry throughout the morning again…" He was sick of working nonstop for half a day without any breakfast to tide him over until lunch.
As though his wish was granted, a single coin dropped onto the faded carpet with a dull sound. Upon closer inspection, it was what he had been looking for all this while… a ten yen coin.
With tears of gratitude welling up in his eyes, he reached out a trembling hand and picked it up gently. "Yes… Yes! This was sent by angels!" he cried with joy, "Finally, after starving for one whole week, I can finally have breakfast! Shio ramen, here I co –"
And then, like a bad dream, the coin inexplicably split into two. Right down the middle. The two halves fell out of his fingers onto the carpet, useless and without any monetary value. He shivered, incredulous and frustrated, wondering if he was still sleeping. But he couldn't wake from this nightmare, because he was already awake. So he considered gluing the ruined coin back together, but remembered that he had no glue. Asking the neighbours for some was out of the question, though. They didn't like him.
"Why god why!" He curled up into a fetal position and howled to the moon... er, sun (it was morning, remember?). The poor guy. Today would be the eighth day in a row without any breakfast. He had just broken his own personal record.
XOXOXOXOXO
"Welcome to Sunshine!"
A customer had arrived at Sunshine Fast Food and it was The Prince's duty to serve him with a bright smile and a cheery attitude. For that was his day job: as a lowly employee of a fast-food restaurant.
And yes, I know you're probably saying "WTF?" right now. Come on, he was The Prince, not The Waiter.
It couldn't be helped. There was nothing else he could do.
But now you know why he's working on a Saturday. Sunshine Fast Food is open seven days a week.
Dozens of times he had lamented the shame of working in such a place. On the stage he was larger than life, with trends to command and fans to bow before him. But now, stripped of his fame and glory, trapped with a dead-end job that paid many times lesser than what he would have gotten as a singer, he seemed so very insignificant.
These days, he wasn't The Prince anymore. He was simply… Eiji. Eiji Oji.
He had cried countless times. He could cry now too, in fact. But he doubted his manager would be happy if he was seen welcoming customers with a teary face. It wouldn't be good for business. He had to smile and be bright like sunshine, said his boss, otherwise their restaurant wouldn't be called Sunshine Fast Food. As pathetic as he had become, he still had a job to perform. And money to earn, as well as a stomach to fill.
The door swung open to reveal two customers who had come in together. A guy and a girl. Must be a couple, he mused.
"Welcome to Sunshine!" he said, beaming widely, although he was really weeping on the inside.
Both the boy and girl wore startled looks on their faces when they saw Eiji. It was the look of one who recognized the face of a person, but wasn't too sure if they were correct. After a moment of hesitation, the boy said, "Get us a garden salad and a hot dog."
"Would you like fries with that, sir?" asked Eiji, wincing inwardly that he had to stoop so low to call a commoner "sir". He was The Prince! Others should be calling him "sir" or "Mr Oji" or even "Your Majesty". It was not supposed to be the other way around. The only way people called him now was by his maiden name, or simply with a nameless "Hey". He could never accept this.
"No thanks. Oh, and two Cokes, please."
"Coming right up, sir. Please, have a seat."
The guy motioned his girlfriend to find them an unoccupied table, which she did. He stayed behind at the counter. It was clear he had something to say.
"Is there anything I can help you with, sir?" asked Eiji.
The boy shot him a piercing gaze with his blue eyes, partially hidden under spiky orange tresses. "You're The Prince, aren't you?"
Who's this? thought Eiji, a fan? Was he here to offer some comforting words, give him a pat on the back or even ask for his autograph? Hope rose in his battered heart. A kind word would go a long way in healing his soul. It was ironic that in his superstar days, he would be showered with a deluge of praises and he wouldn't even take notice. At last, just for one day or even half a day, life would seem more bearable.
Self-conscious of his ruined image, his answer came out with much less confidence than he had hoped. "Uh, I am Eiji Oji, and y-yeah… I am… well, I used to be The Prince. That was a long time ago."
The boy's mouth curled up in one corner in a cruel snicker. "I knew it," he chuckled. "I knew you're the one who called me a spicy tuna roll!"
"I beg your pardon?" stammered Eiji, feeling uneasy from the boy's stare.
"And here you are selling spicy tuna rolls yourself. Or whatever it is that you sell. Heh."
Eiji was annoyed by the boy's behaviour, but as a professional, he had to keep his cool, though it was hard to do so. He wasn't The Prince anymore. He couldn't yell and make ludicrous demands such as asking his subordinates to buy sushi from a bar fifty miles away just because the packaging came in his favourite colour. He couldn't stomp his foot and shout how much he hated something and needed it to be replaced. Now, he could do nothing.
The boy gave a quick snort of contempt before returning to his seat. His girlfriend started stroking his hand lovingly and asked, "Neku, what's up? You were saying something to that waiter guy."
"Yeah, I thought I saw him from somewhere," said Neku, sweeping his orange locks backwards over his scalp. "Look closely, Shiki. Know him?"
The girl, Shiki, adjusted her glasses and took a long hard look at the blonde waiter with the handsome face. She recognized him.
"Why, that's The Prince of Ennui," she said, eyes widened a little in surprise. "Of all the places to see him! What in the world is he doing here?"
"Aren't you a fan of his?"
Eiji perked up and eavesdropped on their conversation. So the girl used to be a fan of his? What did she have to say about him? At such a low point in his life, he needed all the kind words he could get. He couldn't count on her boyfriend for moral support, but perhaps he could with her.
"Yeah, that was a long time ago, though," replied Shiki. "I am so over him."
Eiji's heart sank to his sneakers. Yes, sneakers. He no longer wore the fashionable boots that were part and parcel of his outfit when he was famous. It was just too weird wearing cowboy boots with a fast-food restaurant outfit; they just didn't match. He had to sell them on eBay anyway, to accumulate enough cash to survive; so desperate was he for money. A month had passed since he advertised their availability but nobody wanted them. He had lowered the price a little, and two months went by without a buyer. Finally, after a major discount, someone had eventually bought it. The final price was a mere 1200 yen.
For those of you who are not familiar with Japanese currency, 1200 yen roughly translates to about twelve dollars. Your shoes would cost much more than that.
That 1200 yen disappeared in two days because he spent it on shio ramen for breakfast. Left with only 40 yen by the time the second morning was over, he had then tripped on the sidewalk and his money had rolled out of his reach, perching precariously on the edge of a drainage cover. As he was about to pick it up, someone accidentally bumped into him from behind. His fingers accidentally pushed the coins and they fell straight to their demise into the drain.
The Prince had become The Pauper instead.
But I digress.
His spirit now crushed to a spicy tuna roll flavoured pulp, he continued to listen to what the girl had to say next.
"I remember you had a lot of his albums," said Neku, sipping on his soft drink. "Do you still keep them?"
"Why?" asked Shiki. "Do you need them?"
"Hell no," said Neku, making a face, "they're the last thing I would ever want."
"Well, I'm still keeping them," said Shiki. The Prince felt his heart grow tiny wings and flutter. His fans still loved him! Even though he was no longer the artiste of her dreams, at least she still kept his greatest work! He listened eagerly to what the girl had to say next.
"You're still holding onto that? No offence, but why?"
"Because ever since I offered to sell them on eBay, no one has come to buy them from me."
Eiji could have turned to stone and crumbled to pieces.
"I suppose I could throw them away," Shiki continued, "They had been gathering so much dust, after all. But that would be a waste, wouldn't it? I might as well make a little money out of it. But, whatever, The Prince isn't important anymore. Let's talk about what you've been up to, Neku."
So many gashes had opened up in his heart since the very day Eiji recognized his downfall. Today would add a couple more. Even his fans had all but abandoned him. For an artiste, or rather someone who used to be an artiste, this was the worst thing to ever happen.
Just then, his boss snapped into his ear, "Daydream again and I'll cut your salary by half. We've got customers so serve them."
"Y-Yes sir!" Eiji hurriedly put on his mask of friendliness and continued with his job. But however much he wanted to brush the harshness of his life behind him, he couldn't.
XOXOXOXOXO
It had been a grueling morning for Eiji. Hunger made the whole work experience more than a little excruciating. Quite a few times he had considered popping two or three French fries into his mouth when no one was looking so he would feel less famished. But, out of fear that he would be caught and cooked into burgers by his boss, he didn't. His stomach had been growling angrily at being ignored, but he couldn't exactly do anything.
As soon as lunch break arrived and he managed to cull a meager paycheck from his evil-eyed manager, he walked over to Ramen Don for much-needed lunch. Actually, to say that he walked was wrong. It was more like he sprinted. Or, to be more precise, he vanished into thin air and his body materialized inside Ramen Don. The need to satisfy his hunger was that urgent.
Despite this amazing display of wormhole physics, however, Ken Doi was not impressed. The last thing he wanted was for Eiji Oji, his old friend, to appear in front of him. Because he knew that no sooner did he settle down for shio ramen would he ask the age-old infernal question.
For Ken, it was way worse than the following nightmare scenarios:
1. When your in-laws ask you incessantly, "So when are you having kids?"
2. When the kids at the back of the car ask, "Are we there yet?"
3. When a long-winded insurance agent manages to force his way into your house and starts rattling off about how good his insurance policies are etc etc, and
4. When a certain pesky neighbourhood moron with a skull beanie drops in once or twice a day, asking, "When you gonna have curry ramen, yo? I'm diggin' it."
Don't ask that question, Eiji, thought Ken Doi as he watched the ex-Prince slurp greedily on his noodles with lip-smacking gratitude. His fingers were crossed and hidden behind his back. And in the confines of his shoes, even his toes were crossed.
The question in… uh, question was the mother of all abominable enquiries. It was…
"Hey Ken," said Eiji, trying to sound as good-natured as possible. "I know this will sound bad, but… could I borrow some money?"
The ramen stall owner could have clawed his face out and yelled "NOOOOO!" but he had customers in his shop. It just wasn't done scaring them away while they were peacefully chowing down on noodles. No, he had to calm himself down. Regardless of the fact that Eiji asked this for the seventh time in a fortnight, he knew he could do better than blowing his top in front of everyone.
"Eiji, I'm in as much need for money as you are," he said, arms folded defensively. "My business isn't going all that smoothly these days so I can't spare another yen, I'm afraid."
"But Ken… aren't friends supposed to help each other?" smiled Eiji, trying to turn on the charm, which had practically no effect on cold, hardened, stingy Ken Doi.
"Yes, but I have to help myself first!"
"All I need is about 5000 yen, Ken," pleaded Eiji, "and then I'll give it back to you by… uh… well, I'll give it back eventually!"
Ken Doi shook his head in exasperation. "You don't even have the slightest idea of when to return my money. How can I bring myself to lend you anything?"
"Ah! How about I give you my priceless album to sweeten the deal! It's all yours, free, if you lend me 5000 yen. How about it?"
"I'm no fan of J-Pop. I prefer classical Japanese opera."
"H-Hey, my opera voice ain't too bad either! I can sing any number of songs you want at no extra charge. Just spare me 5000 yen, and…"
"You haven't even returned the 16,000 yen that I lent you over the past two months!" said Ken Doi, his voice raised slightly to hint at his irritation. Eiji gulped. It was true. He had not been able to pay back the money that he borrowed from him. He could sense that Ken was growing increasingly annoyed at his persistence, but he was the only hope he had if he was to survive in this harsh, cruel world ruled by dollars, cents… and of course, yen.
In a last-ditch effort, Eiji put on the saddest puppy eyes look he could manage and gazed directly into Ken's eyes pleadingly.
"Pleeeeease?" he whined. "I'll be good." His eyes were sparkling with boyish innocence. No girl could resist this kind of pity-inducing face, and while it wasn't normally aimed for use against men, he just knew it would work.
However, his plan backfired. Ken simply remained unmoved, obstinate to the bone. In fact, he was substantially riled up now.
"You look like an idiot grinning like that," he chided, with a sharp tone he preferred not to use. Rubbing his forehead in an obvious display of annoyance, he continued, "Seriously, you can't go round begging your friends for money."
"But I'm not begging," protested Eiji, close to finishing his bowl of ramen. "It's just… I really need the extra cash. Otherwise I wouldn't be able to survive! I mean, instant noodles are pretty tasteless and all, and they're hardly filling…"
"Never thought I'd see the day when cup noodles would be a part of your staple diet," said Ken, busy trying to fathom a life where none of his three square meals in a day consisted of normal food. "Seriously, sometimes I wonder how you got into this mess."
Eiji could only stare into his noodles shamefully, knowing fully well that it was his own fault that he had thrown himself into the quagmire of poverty.
"You know, you gotta learn how to control your cash," said Ken, and at this Eiji knew he was in for a long lecture on money management, wise spending habits and curbing the lust for unimportant wants. But he had heard it many times by now, and this particular litany was no different than any of the previous ones and certainly not any more interesting. So he pretended to listen. Most of what Ken said flew in one ear and got spat out the other. He managed to pick up all-too recognizable words and phrases like "economic crisis", "saving", and "the importance of planning out your future" but without exception, not one word stuck in his head.
Whatever, man, just gimme the money already! thought a vexed Eiji, watching Ken's mouth open and close akin to that of a goldfish. He was starting to space out, and for a few frightening moments, Ken's face became golden, sprouted fins from his cheeks, and a fin grew from atop his head.
"Hey, are you listening to me?" snapped Ken, to which Eiji almost jumped in shock at the imaginary yet seemingly real sight of a human-sized, bespectacled goldfish talking back at him.
"I heard every word," lied Eiji hurriedly, the image of goldfish-Ken dissolving before his eyes, much to his relief. "I've been trying to live within my means! Though frankly, it's not that hard when you have little money."
"Hmm, good to know that at long last you're taking things seriously," praised Ken, his face straight and unsmiling.
Eiji decided to try one last trick in the book. Through experience, he had gathered as many as 57 tricks up his sleeve, all involving some form of deception, harmless trickery or undeniable charm. Most of the people he manipulated fell victim by the time he used his second or third strategy, but Ken was the first one to foil his 56th one (the stupid puppy eyes expression). If his last one wouldn't work, nothing would.
"Tell me, Ken," said Eiji carefully. "If I cut back on my expenses, will I have enough to buy food for every week?"
"Yeah."
"Then would I need to give up on certain hobbies like Tin Pin and stuff?"
"Yes, I'm afraid so."
"Can't help that Tin Pin does run into some money, huh."
"Uh-huh."
"Is it possible, then, to achieve happiness even in relative poverty?"
"Sure, why not."
"Great! Then can you lend me 5000 yen?"
"No."
The Prince sank into his stool and almost melted into a gooey, viscous mass after seeing how his plan to get Ken to blindly say yes to his last request failed miserably. The ramen stall owner was sharper than he thought… He may be an old geezer by now, but his mind was far from dull.
Well, that was it. The final ace had been dealt, but it was exposed, shredded to pieces, burnt to ashes and in short completely destroyed. It was a most pathetic defeat for Eiji. Deprived of any smart ideas, he could only slurp up the remainder of his meal in sadness before paying (always a painful thing to do) and trudging out the door with the enthusiasm of a rotting zombie. With his money matters unresolved, he became the slowest, dullest creature on the planet since the two-toed sloth.
Work was to resume in half an hour's time. With nothing to do he decided to wander around town to clear his head. It had been crammed to the brim with thoughts about money, or rather the lack of it, and he was sick of it. As he strolled through Scramble Crossing, his presence went unnoticed. When he was The Prince, simply walking down the streets was enough to "trigger a revolution", as he had once put in his own words. He was so popular, such hot property, that no one could deny his opinions. Everything he said became fashion gospel, a sort of oral bible for young Shibuyans to follow so they too could be cool, like him.
But he wasn't The Prince anymore. So did anyone care about him? Certainly not. No one so much as took a second glance at him. He thought he caught sight of some teenage girls making eye contact with him, but when he looked to be sure, they were usually looking at something or someone behind him. Addicted to attention, he craved the fanatical love that his fans once poured onto him. Now, without his usual high, he was getting serious cold turkey.
With the fog of despair clouding his head, he was too preoccupied to look where he was going, and subsequently bumped into a teenage girl from behind, squashing right into her butt. He lost balance and risked toppling over her, so he instinctively grabbed her shoulders to steady himself.
"Wha?" the girl cried out in surprise, almost crumpling under Eiji's weight.
Now, we all know he was just trying to save himself from falling. But to anyone else, especially the girl, it looked like he was trying to molest her.
"Hey!" She shook free from his grasp, and glared at him with death in her eyes while adjusting her brown cap which had gone askew. "What do you think you're doing?"
Eiji scrambled for an apology. "Sorry, sorry! It's my fault. I was careless and – "
He was interrupted when she slapped him across the face. She was so startlingly and mysteriously powerful that Eiji almost did a pirouette, ballerina-style. He couldn't manage the whole 360 degrees though; he spun and crashed right into a large dustbin. All of its stink-laden contents spilled out and formed a disgusting mattress which cushioned his fall but lent him an incredibly disagreeable stench.
He lay amongst the food wrappers, crumpled paper and banana peels, like some kind of Garbage King. There even happened to be a burger container sitting atop his head like a crown, making him seem even more like the royalty of rubbish… not exactly a fitting image for someone who used to be The Prince (though Sho would be proud). All the nearby bystanders were staring at him, some gaping in shock, others snickering unkindly.
"Pervert!" yelled the girl, before stomping off in a huff, blowing her ruffled pink tresses away from her face. "Ugh," she could be heard muttering, "I think I broke a nail. And I just had a manicure too. Curses!"
Eiji picked himself off the pavement and peeled the trash off of himself as best as he could, but the smell was beyond his control. Oh cripes, if I return to work smelling like this, the boss will blast me into outer space. He had barely twenty minutes to dash back home for a bath. I gotta hurry!
As if on cue, a car sped past like a laser beam and charged through a puddle of water on the road, spraying him down to the bone. Well, the bath part was taken care of now… more or less…
Everyone laughed harder at his mishap.
Tch! Dammit! he thought, cheeks flushed at the unwanted attention he was getting. I really have to get back home now; I'm a complete mess! He started sprinting down the sidewalk, leaving a trail of water in his wake. To make matters even worse, a policeman spotted him and blew his whistle at him.
"Hey you! Stop!" shouted the police officer, stabbing a pointing finger in Eiji's direction. "I saw you! You tipped that dustbin over, but you didn't even bother to clean up! That's littering!"
"Argh! Leave me alone, please!" Eiji pleaded, tearing down the streets at full speed with the policeman hot on his heels. "I can't afford to pay the fine!" If he lost anymore money he would be looking at an entire month without breakfast, something he didn't want to experience.
Unfortunately for him, the gods and forces of the universe and whatever decided that today would not be his luckiest day. So by an additional stroke of misfortune, he had to trip on nothing in particular and fall headlong on the cement ground. Needless to say this allowed the pursuing officer to easily catch up and slap him with a hefty fine. One look at the offending piece of paper and Eiji's eyes sprung out of their sockets.
"20,000 yen?" he shrieked, hair standing on end so ridiculously that his head looked like a sunflower. "I have to pay a fine of 20,000 yen?"
That's about two hundred dollars if you must know.
"That'll teach you to leave rubbish all over the place for no good reason," said the policeman sternly. "Now come on and undo what you just did. Pick up that trash!"
He got slapped in the face, turned a dustbin inside-out, was splashed with water, and now he had a fine to pay and community work to do. Talk about a quintuple whammy. Murphy's Law could work in the worst ways possible, but you have to admit, multiple disasters in the same day – no, in the space of a few minutes – don't come by often. It's pretty intriguing, really.
XOXOXOXOXO
Cleaning up the litter-ridden pavement took longer than expected. By the time he got back home, had a quick shower, changed into fresh clean clothes, and returned to the restaurant, he was thirty minutes late. Not a very nice way to greet your boss. Especially when he was hot-tempered and did not take kindly to poor work ethics.
"You're late, Eiji Oji!" grumbled his boss. "How do you have the cheek to come half an hour late?"
Eiji froze and his throat dried up like a desert. Things weren't looking good. He was already on bad terms with his boss, no thanks to a lot of fumbling on Eiji's part ever since he started this job. But now it looked like he was headed for something worse than a scolding.
And he was right.
"Your behaviour as of late has been most aggravating," said the manager, arms folded, "Using the wrong ingredients for the wrong food, forgetting orders, and now blatant tardiness. I hate to say this but you're getting worse as you go." He cleared his throat to prepare for the final blow. "I'm afraid I'm going to ask you to turn in your uniform."
"Wait!" yelped Eiji, frightened that he would lose his only source of income. "I can explain! It was all because of an accident. You see, I – "
"No excuses," was the firm reply. "What, are you going to attribute your tardiness to being kidnapped by flying saucers now? Besides, I've already let you off for a good number of 'accidents', 'mishaps' and various other 'unforeseen circumstances'. You've already had your chances, but still you didn't improve yourself."
Well, part of what he said was true. Eiji could sing and dance all day without shattering his voice, but being in the entertainment business for so long, he had forgotten how to do simple things that a lot of people can perform… like working. We can't ignore that singing was considered work on his part when he was still an artiste, but this was a different kind of work, one that pop stars left to their underlings.
Not good. The boss is mad. Gotta use trick number 36!
"Boss, please keep me in the company…" Eiji attempted to negotiate. "If you do, I'll gladly do any kind of work you want me to do!"
The manager seemed to ponder the possibilities of this offer, and appeared pretty intrigued by it, from the way he was rubbing his chin and staring off into the distance. Eiji waited with bated breath for his answer, but at the same time, he was dreading it. Exactly what kind of work would he have in mind? Scrubbing the toilets? Cleaning the cooking equipment? Polishing his shoes? Goodness, that was even worse than the menial but relatively easier jobs he had been doing!
However, much to his relief – followed by disappointment – his boss shook his head and said, "As much as I want you to feed my twelve dogs and walk them everyday, Eiji, I can't let you remain. Sorry."
So he was still adamant about firing the poor ex-singer. Eiji didn't have to deal with twelve overactive dogs and their stern, overbearing master, so thank goodness for silver linings. But it felt like he dodged a bullet only to be hit by a much bigger rocket. And that rocket had "unemployment" written all over it.
"Clean out your desk by 5 pm this evening… no, 3 pm," said the manager. "No, on second thought, now. Please. Your presence is polluting the sunshine here."
"Um, sir, I don't have a desk…"
"I know. It just sounded appropriate to say to someone I'm firing."
Eiji didn't know whether to laugh or cry at that. It was most awkward.
And so, after handing back his uniform, Eiji Oji, aka the ex-Prince, left the Sunshine Fast Food restaurant for the last time. He had lost his job and could not return again.
"Oh well," he sighed, as he walked back home, "that job wasn't exactly right for a guy like me anyway."
Then his tummy started rumbling.
"Ugh," he groaned, "Seriously, I wish my stomach would stop acting up at the worst of times!" Remembering that he still kept the remainder of his last paycheck for the day, he took a much-dreaded peek in his wallet, and as he had come to expect, he was 10 yen short of a 580 yen shio ramen meal. Again.
He screamed at the heavens.
"DAMMIT…!"