Under the Shades of the Fruit Tree (First Part)

by Slave Prince
There is a man who graduated as a doctor and now is a carpenter. His name is Bark Wrong. He is me.

In two weeks I'll be studying ornithology - the study of birds.

Crazy man.

I'll tell you a story. It's not about me; I'm only a secondary character on this:

Last week, my girlfriend, Trisha, ended the three years of our sweet relationship.

Hospitals and medicines remind me so much of her, so I decided not to help any sick person forever.

She was once my favorite patient. After I took out the illness out her body, she said she wants to start a new life without me.

That break-up moment happened in the house of her best friend that turned out to be her boyfriend.

The two went shopping for their wedding and left me in the garden. I didn't cry. I was numbed.

An old gardener held my backpack and told me I destroyed the best giant sunflower in the garden.

"Sorry," my voice was shaking. "How much is this flower?"

"I know a place where you can forget Trisha."

"Yeah. In heaven. You never answered my question."

The gardener walked away slowly. Maybe my pitch was deafening.

He turned back to me and said, "Mr. Hound needs a carpenter. In Wet Desert. He will pay you a hundred. Then you can pay me after."

What? Did I look poor? I knew I am good-looking - not to brag - and plus, I was wearing formal clothes.

That night, I traveled five hours on a public bus to Wet Desert.

Finding Mr. Hound's house was no challenge. It's the only house there.

But persuading him was as hard as getting up in the summer morning.

"I know how to build a dog house."

"How can you build a freaking dog house if you don't have tools?"

"I have my brain. My IQ is above average."

"Sorry Mr. Wrong. It's twelve. I need to rest."

Mr. Hound banged the door. Then closed the only source of light - an oil lamp.

The desert had grasses, and the wind was creeping inside my long sleeves.

At the left side of the house, there's a small tree. The tree-shade was wide.

The gardener was wrong, I never forgotten Trisha. I slept under the tree wishing I woke up with her.

I woke up at eleven in the morning. The sun was hitting my eyes. And a paper and a little poop were lying on my chest.

Written on the paper: "I ordered carpentry tools last night. They will arrive at ten. Please go inside and have a coffee with me."

The wooden door was open. He's not inside. A cup of cold coffee and another paper were on the only table.

Written on the second paper: "I know you're not Mr. Wrong, he's not as stupid as you are. Just wait for me. I will go to the city and meet the REAL Mr. Wrong. You can begin working as soon as the tools arrive. Sorry for last night. I want to know your real name as soon as I get back. Mine's Mr. Ally Hound."
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