Mixed Vegetable Soup – Scene 6 Part I

Day Three – Shaolin Bastard finally meets his creator.

Shaolin Bastard was lying on the couch of his living room torn between two thoughts. On one hand he was puzzled over the non-appearance of his two henchmen, Snake in the Monkey Shadow and Monkey in the Snake Shadow and on the other hand he was being plagued by the eternal question in his mind – Who or what was his father? One moment he was thinking perhaps the two shadowy buddies were lying on some lonely pavement drunk like the dead. The next moment he was thinking maybe his father was dark furtive gardener who used to slink about the garden doing nothing but, Shaolin Bastard was sure, watching bees pollinate.

Shaolin Bastard didn’t know what made him think that guy was his father. Every time he pondered over the question, which he did every second, some face would pop into his mind and he would be sure for that second the face his haphazard, radioactive brain conjured was his father until his brain conjured another face. He saw many faces even sometimes faces of animals or objects too. One day he almost answered the question conclusively by deciding the old springless sofa in the cellar was his dad. He came to the conclusion when he realized his seat was as cushiony as the seat of the sofa and he too was springless. But finally he was forced to dismiss the idea because his mind conjured the image of a street lamp next and he realized he was almost as tall as the street lamp though not as bright. He was indeed very tall. In fact he had to extend the doorways in his house some foot above so he doesn’t have to crawl through.

At present he was seeing the face of the Pope when his eyes saw a strange pseudo-Chinese approach his house. Immediately he concluded the stranger was his father indeed. He rose up with outstretched arms to welcome his dad home. 

‘Poppy! My dear poppy! Am I glad to have you back? Now I am no longer a bastard. I am now the Shaolin Son of – what’s your name poppy?’ 

Mixed Vegetable Soup was nonplussed. He did not expect this sudden wind of change! He had anticipated hostility and lots of violence but never affection. For a moment he was overcome by the affection and he embraced the Shaolin Bastard. 

‘My name is Mixed Vegetable Soup. You can call me Mixie or Veggie or Soupie or whatever you like son!’ 

‘I will call you poppy, Poppy! So from today I am Shaolin Son of Poppy! Poppy I love your name and I love you too!’ 

Shaolin Bastard embraced Mixed Vegetable Soup and shed three tears over his shoulder. The wet tears brought back Mixed Vegetable Soup to the cold reality. He was embracing and calling his son a man who killed his parents – who had ripped his parents’ stomachs in search for an answer to the chicken question. 

Mixed Vegetable Soup tore himself from the sentimental hug and kicked Shaolin Bastard. 

‘I am no father of yours you fatherless bastard from Shaolin!’ 

If Mixed Vegetable Soup was surprised that Shaolin Bastard was not thrown back by the impact of his kick, his cello tapes prevented them from showing in his eyes. 

But Shaolin Bastard had no cellophane taped over his temples to stop his shock from showing, and even if there were any they wouldn’t have been able to hold the flood of emotions that now stormed over the Bastard’s vile countenance. Shock, hurt, anger, pain, disgust, horror, humor (god knows why it chose to join the stampede) all fell upon the facial muscles and wrenched them into hundreds of contortions in their fight for supremacy. Finally pain and hurt made a tie while the others slunk away their tails between their legs back into the cholesterol-filled heartless heart that was, by now, bouncing like a motorized yo-yo against the front and rear walls of the rib cage.