The Minorities Page 6

  She lifted her head off my shoulder and shot me a sardonic look. “Yes. We discussed it over our last manicure session.”

  “Hey, don’t dismiss the guy. He has nuggets of wisdom.”

  Shanti rested her head on my shoulder again. “Is that what you call it when he lets out the bad inside?”

  I laughed. “Seriously. Just now, he said”—and I did my best impersonation of Tights—“Hilda shit. I shit. Why she feel insulted?”

  Shanti laughed her throaty, whooping laugh. As it subsided, she said more soberly, “Oh, Tights. He should apologise to Cantona.”

  “He will. He said he would.”

  “Good.” She paused. “Do you feel like a parent to them sometimes?”

  “No,” I replied honestly. “Most of the time, I feel like I’m a passenger in a car they’re driving, and we’re speeding into a wall. Cantona makes me feel like we could phase through the wall. Tights makes me feel like the wall will shit itself and disappear.”

  “Where am I in this car?” asked Shanti.

  “Oh no, you’re not in the car. You’re outside, trying desperately to knock the wall down with a sledgehammer before we crash into it.”

  Shanti giggled. She stopped suddenly.

  There was a whistling sound from the kitchen.

  “Were you boiling water?” I asked her.

  “No.”

  “Was Cantona?”

  “No.”

  “Weird. I’ll go turn off the stove.”

  When I stepped into the kitchen, I was greeted by a chilly breeze, and I shuddered in the cold of the night. The fire underneath the kettle remained strong and unwavering. I twisted the gas dial towards zero, and the fire winked out with a propane gasp.

  I had barely stepped past the threshold of the kitchen when there was a subtle movement at the corner of my eye like a large white cloth tumbling, accompanied by a soft flapping sound. I turned: there was no white cloth. I turned back to Shanti. She was looking in the same direction.

  “What was that?”

  She shrugged. “The curtains?”

  We did not mistake the next movement that happened outside of our agency. The front door had begun creaking ajar.

  I covered the ten metres between myself and the front door within the span of a breath, and slammed it shut. My eyes met Shanti’s, and I could see her mind working rapidly, rationalising and interpreting the data provided by her empirical observations.

  Another door opened—this time a dauntless swing of the one to my room. Tights entered the living room, looking fresh in one of my sweatpants and white T-shirts. “Watch Forrest Gump?” he asked me. His face fell when he saw the state Shanti and I were in. “What happen?”

  Shanti was the first to reply. “Nothing. Crazy wind up here on the thirteenth floor.” She walked over to give Tights a hug and, into his shoulder, said, “Don’t forget to apologise to Cantona tomorrow.”

  Tights nodded. “I want Cantona to be artist. He very good.”

  Shanti broke the hug and smiled warmly at Tights. “Tell him that tomorrow.” She gave him a final squeeze of the shoulder before returning to her room.

  I patted Tights on his back and motioned him back to my room.

  “Take my bed tonight, Tights,” I said, pulling out a futon from under my bed.

  He opened his mouth to protest, but I raised a finger to stop him. I took a pillow from the three stacked on my bed, and an extra blanket from my wardrobe. Tights sat down on the bed. I passed my laptop to him and searched my DVD rack for the white spine with the familiar dark blue serif fonts. I knew, of course, that I wouldn’t find it there.

  “It’s not here,” I said to Tights. My right hand quivered slightly. “Did you bring it to your room?”

  He shook his head.

  “I’ll go check, just in case.”

  The living room lights were off, but light from the corridor outside filtered in faintly through the opaque windows. Shanti was back on the sofa.

  “Shanti, what are you doing there in the dark?” I asked, as I knocked on Cantona’s door.

  The door behind me opened instead and a deluge of white fluorescent light flooded the corridor as Shanti stepped out of the room.

  I glanced back at the sofa. It was empty.

  “Did you call me?” Shanti asked.

  In front of me, a frowning Cantona, wearing a singlet and boxers, stood at his open door. His face eased when he saw that Tights was not with me.

  I addressed Shanti first. “Sorry, false alarm.”

  As she smiled and wished us good night, I looked at the sofa again. It was still empty.

  I spoke to Cantona next. “Is the Forrest Gump DVD in your room?”

  “I don’t think so.” He motioned for me to come in. The TV console held a messy jumble of DVDs. In front were two beds, one, of course, sat undisturbed and empty. The TV was on, set to some news channel reporting the latest on some Middle Eastern conflict.

  Finding Nemo was topmost of that pile of DVDs. Under it was Spaceballs. There were at least ten other DVDs, but none were Forrest Gump. At the bottom was Return of the Jedi. I couldn’t help grinning.

  “He loves that movie,” Cantona said softly behind me.

  “I know.” I looked through the stack again, knowing that the Forrest Gump DVD was not there. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m fine. I’m angry as hell, man, but I’ll get past it.” He sat down next to me, his visage bathed in the glow of a war scene in the Middle East. “I really want to help where I can. Pay the bills, cover our daily costs.”

  “Stop worrying about that,” I told him.

  “Shanti told me—”

  “I’ll handle that, Cantona,” I told him flatly. I then said to him what I’ve been wanting to say since the vernissage. “Your art is phenomenal, my friend. You deserve an audience.”

  “Thank you,” he said, “but I don’t think I’ll be having much of one after what Tights did.”

  Something caught my eye, something small and brown on the far end of the console. I leaned past Cantona and took it in my hand, feeling its familiar striations.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “An almond,” I told him dismissively. “Anyway, listen. Tights is Tights. He will always be Tights. He will always—”

  “—let out bad inside, I know. I don’t blame him for being him. I think I’m just scared that he jeopardised my only chance to be recognised for my art.”

  “You will be an artist,” I said, looking at him square in the eye. “Just not through Hilda, and maybe not now. But your talent is undeniable. You’ll get your chance in time. That said, given how important the vernissage was to Hilda, I’m pretty sure she contacted the authorities. We can’t risk getting caught.”

  “Damn it! There were people interested in buying my art. Imagine that! If only Tights didn’t—”

  “But he did. There’s no point wondering about what-ifs.”

  He nodded, but his eyes wandered behind me.

  Cantona spotted something under the console and fished out a DVD box. He exhaled heavily in frustration. It was not Forrest Gump, but Robin Hood: Men in Tights. We caught ourselves staring at it in silence. Then we laughed and laughed.

  “He wants to watch Forrest Gump?” asked Cantona as our laughter subsided. He was wiping away the film of dust that had enveloped the DVD.

  I nodded.

  “That means he’s feeling very alone. Forrest Gump makes Tights feel like he’s not an anomaly.”

  I stood up. “I have an idea.” He asked me what it was, and I told him. Some of the things I said made him laugh, some of the things I said made him question my sanity, but at the end of my explanation, he was nodding his head.

  “We’re going to need Shanti,” said Cantona finally.

  “Yes, we’re going to need Shanti.”

  “She’s not going to like it.”

  I smiled. “No, she’s not.”

  ACT I

  SCENE 1. STREET IN CHINA—NIG
HT

  It is pitch dark because I had just flicked off the lights. Enter THE NARRATOR.

  THE NARRATOR

  Once every—

  TIGHTS-IN-AUDIENCE

  Why you off light?

  THE NARRATOR

  Damn it, Tights, can you not interrupt?

  TIGHTS-IN-AUDIENCE

  Yes, boss.

  THE NARRATOR

  Once every—

  TIGHTS-IN-AUDIENCE

  We not watch Forrest Gump?

  THE NARRATOR

  We couldn’t find it, so instead, we have a special presentation for you.

  (beat)

  Once every generation, there comes a hero who will rise above all the bad of the world—the bad around us, and the bad inside us. This is the story of Tights.

  Exit THE NARRATOR. Enter YING HAO and MOTHER. YING HAO is squatting by the side of the street, MOTHER next to him.

  MOTHER/SHANTI

  (Softly)Cantona, you have no idea how ridiculous you look.

  THE NARRATOR

  (From outside)Stay in character please!

  YING HAO

  Must I do it here, Mama?

  MOTHER

  Yes, Ying Hao! Remember, when you have the bad inside, you must let it out immediately.

  YING HAO

  What if I don’t let it out? What if I keep the

  bad inside?

  MOTHER

  Then you become like Emperor Palpatine. You become wrinkled and evil and angry.

  YING HAO

  I don’t want to be like the Emperor. I want to be a hero. Like Luke Skywalker or Darth Vader.

  MOTHER

  And you will be, my son.

  YING HAO stands up.

  MOTHER

  Now let’s go home and watch a movie. What do you want to watch tonight?

  YING HAO

  I want to watch Robin Hood: Men in Tights!

  Will you watch it with me?

  MOTHER

  I would never say no to you, Ying Hao.

  Exeunt MOTHER and YING HAO.

  SCENE 2. YING HAO’S HOUSE—DAY

  Enter MOTHER and YING HAO. They are watching a movie while eating century eggs. Enter GRANDFATHER.

  GRANDFATHER

  Is this what you do with my money? Stay at home all day and watch television?

  MOTHER

  Papa! It is good to see you!

  MOTHER goes up to GRANDFATHER and shakes his hand.

  GRANDFATHER

  I did not come here for a family reunion. I came here to take my grandson to Singapore. My sanitation company there is doing well, and our manpower needs are growing.

  MOTHER

  That’s certainly good news, Papa!

  YING HAO

  I would love to have adventures in Singapore! Are there dragons and robots and superheroes there?

  GRANDFATHER

  No, there are none. There are bankers and politicians and Internet celebrities. You are not there for adventures, boy. You are there to work. You see, grandson, when people in Singapore do their business in the toilet, it all goes into a large tank. We then take this large tank and reuse all that business inside as fertiliser, or sell to waste-to-fuel plants, or send it to a landfill. Sometimes, when too many people need to do their business, the tank leaks or overflows. I need a technician to inspect these tanks and report any leakages or overflow. I need someone to make sure the bad stays inside.

  YING HAO

  I can do that!

  YING HAO pauses, and his enthusiasm falters.

  YING HAO

  Is Mama coming along?

  GRANDFATHER

  I’m afraid not. Her place is here in China.

  YING HAO

  Then I don’t want to go.

  GRANDFATHER makes a derisive, exasperated sound. MOTHER kneels before YING HAO.

  MOTHER

  Ying Hao, you must go. You will have a better life in Singapore. You will have more money than you do here. Grandfather will take care of you.

  YING HAO

  But I don’t want money, Mama. I want to be

  with you.

  MOTHER

  When you have enough money, you can come back and see me and we can eat Chinese century egg together. Now go to Singapore. Be my hero, Ying Hao. Be like Luke Skywalker.

  Exeunt YING HAO, GRANDFATHER and—

  MOTHER/SHANTI

  Tights, when was the last time you saw

  your mother?

  TIGHTS-IN-AUDIENCE looks solemn. He had laughed at “dragons and robots and superheroes” and he had playfully booed the character of GRANDFATHER. But this…

  TIGHTS-IN-AUDIENCE

  Two years last time. Before I come Singapore.

  MOTHER/SHANTI

  I’m sorry. I never knew.

  Exit MOTHER.

  ACT II

  SCENE 1. PARK IN SINGAPORE EVENING

  Enter YING HAO.

  YING HAO has just finished work. Suddenly, his stomach rumbles and he needs to let out the bad inside.

  YING HAO proceeds to a tree, pulls down his pants and squats. He heaves a sigh of relief. He has let out the bad immediately—it had not stayed in his body for long enough to be unhealthy.

  Suddenly, something falls from the sky and hits him—softly—in the head. It is a MAGIC GOLDEN TOILET ROLL.

  YING HAO tears off a bunch of toilet paper and uses it to wipe himself. Unbeknownst to him, the toilet roll gives its user magical powers. He gains the ability to fly, super strength and impenetrable skin. But most importantly, he can now conjure an infinite number of toilet rolls to use as a weapon against his enemies.

  YING HAO

  Now that I have superpowers, I can be a hero and help people in need. But I need a superhero name. Something awesome. What do Robin Hood, Superman, Wolverine and Captain America have in common? Oh, I know! They all wear TIGHTS!

  He had arrived at the park as YING HAO but now he flies back to his grandfather’s office as TIGHTS.

  Exit TIGHTS.

  SCENE 2. GRANDFATHER’S OFFICE

  Enter TIGHTS.

  TIGHTS arrives at GRANDFATHER’S office—but it has been ransacked! A rancid smell fills it.

  Enter GRANDFATHER, held at gunpoint by TURDZILLA, an evil woman who wears a permanent ugly sneer and has wild, unfocussed eyes. She brings a whole new definition to the term “shitfaced”.

  TIGHTS

  Grandfather! Are you all right?

  GRANDFATHER

  Get out of here, Ying Hao! You cannot help me. Save yourself!

  TURDZILLA

  Yes, Ying Hao! Your grandfather has broken a million sanitation standards and I, Turdzilla, First of My Name, Monster of Toilets, Lady of Poop—are you serious, guys?—am here to punish him!

  TIGHTS

  No, you’re not. I will defeat you!

  TURDZILLA

  And how do you plan to do that? You don’t even know how to use a toilet.

  TIGHTS

  Perhaps. (Brandishes MAGIC GOLDEN TOILET ROLL) But I have this!

  TURDZILLA

  (Gasps) The Magic Golden Toilet Roll! It only presents itself to the chosen one! It cannot be you!

  TIGHTS

  I let out the bad inside immediately.

  That’s why it’s me.

  TIGHTS throws a toilet roll at TURDZILLA. It hits GRANDFATHER in the shoulder, but it does not affect him at all. TURDZILLA, however, drops her gun and screams in agony. TIGHTS throws another toilet roll, which hits TURDZILLA in the face. The monster dies.

  GRANDFATHER goes up to TIGHTS.

  GRANDFATHER

  You saved my life! I am so proud of you,

  my grandson.

  There was laughter behind me. Shanti and Cantona, now out of character, were throwing toilet rolls at each other. I slowly backed away to the corner of the room, towards the door. I stood there silently and waited.

  “No!” Tights yelled, his voice strained with anger. “That not happen.”

  Cantona and Shant
i stopped their toilet roll fight. “We know, Tights,” he said. “It was just a performance.”

  “I know you only make show,” Tights said. He kept his voice steady, but a single tear streaked down his cheek. “Grandfather never say that. Grandfather never proud.”

  “Come on, Tights,” Shanti said. “I’m sure he was. He just didn’t know how to say it.”

  Tights got off the bed. The tears came stronger now. “He say to me he not proud. He say he no love me. I not good worker at grandfather company. I no like work there. Grandfather always angry, always not nice. One day he ask me what I want to become. I say I want to be movie actor. Grandfather laugh at me. He say I too ugly. Too stupid. I want to go home but I think what Mama say. She will sad if I never work for Grandfather anymore. But I no like work for Grandfather. So I run away.”

  Cantona and Shanti were silent. They could not take their eyes off Tights.

  “Why have you never told us?” Cantona asked softly, turning to me.

  I nodded to Tights. “It was his story to tell.”

  The four of us fell into a deep silence. Nobody said anything—nobody knew what to say.

  We did not have to.

  Four loud thuds came from the door, the violent knocks causing it to tremble. We turned as one. Two more bangs came. I was rooted, and judging from the lack of movement around me, so were the rest.