Wild Kids by Ta-chun Chang

Author:Ta-chun Chang
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: LIT008000, Literary Criticism/Asian/General, FIC019000, Fiction/Literary
Publisher: Columbia University Press
Published: 2000-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

FRIENDS

Later, I made many friends. Among them are a few whom I will never see again: Zeng Ahzhi is just one. One of his eyes was bigger than the other; the white part of that eye was also notably larger—he usually used this eye to see ghosts, then later he would tell us what he saw. Like the time when he saw Tarō at the junkyard behind the sheet-iron bathroom door, he told us, “Tarō said he was really cold.” None of us saw any of this, but we all remembered that Tarō used to always be afraid of the cold. Wearing that ridiculously strange paper hat, he escaped from the slaughterhouse, and the night he first met us, he kept saying, “It’s so cold! So cold!” That is also what Tarō said the afternoon he died. Much, much later, there would also come a time when I would never again lay eyes on Hoop and Apricot—they’re probably still locked up in a tiny room within that huge hotel being straddled by a bunch of fat, fishy-smelling men. Just as Hoop and Apricot are screaming, a horde of bats flies out through the hole in the window screen and then flies back in. But this already has nothing to do with me; even supposing that I should later meet another woman as terrified of cockroaches, spiders, bats, and Horsefly as those two, there is no way I’m having anything to do with them. Perhaps I’ll still run into Horsefly, and maybe I’ll even put two bullets in his stomach—but that would just be for fun. After getting shot in the stomach, Horsefly would spring to his feet with a forward somersault and say, “Fuck! Is that all you got?” That would really be kind of funny to see. But besides this, I would be willing to bet that if you were to run into Horsefly, Little Five, and Ah Dibo, you wouldn’t be laughing. Little Five can break a beer bottle with a pocketknife, and Ah Dibo has the habit of riding around in stolen RZR motorcycles in search of police cars to go head-on with. They rarely leave Horsefly’s side; even when they are sent out to buy cigarettes, betel nuts, or Prince Instant Noodles, you can sense that their imposing, dark shadows somehow remain with him. One time Old Bull stepped on Ah Dibo’s shadow. “Did you step on my shadow?” asked Ah Dibo. Old Bull lowered his head to glance at his shoes and said, “I’ve got it! Those tea leaves…” Ah Dibo, throwing one fist forward, knocked Old Bull straight down, just like a bowling pin. Ever since then, Old Bull would always manage to think of some event or person at the most improper of times. Little Horse said that his brain was fried, completely fucked, and I think he’s right. But I’m always reminiscing about Old Bull. Besides Little Horse and Little Xinjiang, I think Old Bull is my best friend—my third-best friend. If

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