A Peculiar Undertaking (Excerpt)--Issue #9

By Tobias Hrothgar

If you were to walk down Seventh street at the time it happened you would probably not have found anything very interesting. It was just like any other street, except for the monastery. The monastery was even of less interest than most. With plain wooden walls painted white and a garage door, you would have thought it was just some sort of workshop, except for the crosses decorating it.

If you were to walk past the monastery around the time it happened you would have found nothing but a golf cart, inside of which was a boy. This boy, who was about seventeen at the time, had a name. Now, you would not know his name just by looking at him, unless, of course, you had been told his name previously. If you wished to know the boy’s name that would require either going into deep investigation or going up to the boy and asking him his name. I would expect you, like many other people, would choose the latter, considering that would be much simpler. Now, if you were to go up to the boy and ask what his name was he, not being mute or deaf, would tell you. The name he would tell you that belonged to him would be the name that was given to him by his parents. Now, his parents, not being uneducated, would have given him a fairly pleasant name. Of course, they would not have given him that name had they not wanted to use that name for him. Moreover, giving him that name they must have assumed that he would want to use that name if a stranger walked up to him, asking him what his name was. This fairly pleasant name which he would tell if you asked him what his name was which belonged to him would be Jared Reese.

Now, you did not walk up to Jared Reese and ask him what his name was, for you were not there on Seventh Street at that time. In fact, no one but Jared himself was on that street at all. It was just him on the small, quiet street.

Jared was lying back in his seat, his hands behind his head and his baseball cap pulled down over his face, resting peacefully and enjoying the cool breeze. He had handsome features, close-cropped black hair, broad shoulders, a clean-shaven face; but it was also a kind of common look. He just looked like an ordinary. It was not likely anyone would take a second glance at him, much less ask him what his name was unless it was to give him a parking ticket. But Jared didn’t mind looking ordinary. He just liked how he was, though that did not keep the unordinary from happening to him…

A strong gust of wind aroused the dozing teenager. He sat up, straightened his hat, and looked around. His brother had still not arrived yet. How long had it been? He looked down at his watch. He had arrived almost an hour ago. What was taking Benjamin so long? Benjamin was the name of Jared’s fourteen-year-old brother. It was another fairly pleasant name given by the same fairly well-educated parents as that of Jared. Jared was on the point of driving home to let Benjamin walk the whole way when suddenly a flailing, scrawny, scarecrow-like figure with a curly brown mess of hair scrambled clumsily around the corner and after Jared.

“Flee, kinsperson, whilst you still have the chance!” Jared was used to Benjamin speaking in this unusual manner, but he was not used to his brother acting this panicked. Before Jared even ask what was wrong Benjamin had jumped into the golf cart and was yelling “Drive! Drive! Drive!” Not knowing much else to do Jared did exactly that.

“What’s the matter?” Jared asked Benjamin.

“That is of little importance at the moment,” the second replied. “The question you should be asking of me would be ‘What question doest thou have to ask?’”

“Uh, okay. What do you have to ask?”

“Why did you take the golf cart?!”

“Because I came to pick you up after playing golf, duh.”

“Could not you have used the motorized bicycle?”

“Why would I need the motorcycle?” But he had hardly said these last words before the garage door of the monastery burst open and seven jet black motorcycles zoomed out.