somewhere on my way, Anna N. Schnieden [best summer reads TXT] 📗

delivered by Mr. Ok’s personal assistant. I was in my own mind and minding my own business under my desk…in my office; my desk-girl who was supposed to be my secretary (I know it was complicated, well, she only knew how to paint her face!) came rushing into my office and told me that Mr. Ok’s personal assistant came to see me.

Meanwhile, Mr. Ok’s personal assistant was already in my office, looking for me. I told him I liked to think under my desk, so he handed me the black envelope!

 

“What is it about being under the desk, anyway?” The assistant.

 

 

“Processing! Someone likes to pop up in here…too much! And they interrupt my imaginations. Shoo…!” Me.

 

I was staring at the envelope, thinking why….black…fired? I needed to call Professor Daddy…to see if I got yelling at.

 

“What the hell! Really? You’re mocking your CEO…and you borrowed money…you must have lost your bloody head somewhere, huh!” Professor Daddy.

 

“Well, looking for a taxi was bloody industrious. And the not-smart foremen took all the vehicles out all day. When I needed to run to job sites, I never found one available. And once, I sent one of them…you know, the not-smart foremen...to talk to an electrical company at a job site, and somehow the bloody job site turned into a barn fire!” Me.

 

Finally, I opened the envelope; it was a 25,000 baht cheque with a note, ah…It was not like… Fifty Shades, it was…

 

“I guess you’re curious about the envelope. Here is the catch

If you survive a year here, the beetle is your.

Your CEO

P.S the envelope was a…joke! Ha..Ha”

I had reached an understanding of what Professor Daddy meant when he said, “It is the right place for you!” I am a shocking outrageous specialist!

 

The other bosses were Mr. Glass, Ms. No Water, and Mr. Cute: the exclusive- manager of the engineers. Mr. Glass and Ms. No Water graduated from the same school as mine, but over 15 years before I was a freshman. They both liked to taunt children, therefore they always reverted to the school at the time of home welcoming and the idea of catching and painting the dogs was Mr. Glass's!

 

Ms. No Water was a great, great granddaughter of the king of old time who had been gossiped, as a lonely man. The whisperer said he had at least 100 wives and the last

 

 

wife was 14 years old from the north had spent a year traveling by boat from 700 km away to Bangkok for her wedding. Clearly, she was really in love with him! Ms. No Water said, “The only good thing about being royalty is…I can say shit anywhere and no one knows!!!”

 

And Mr. Cute, he was handsome and tall for an Asian. I only saw him at or in the building’s elevator! My first time at the elevator…with him, in the morning was…

 

“Crazy traffic. Hey, you’re the new girl, right? The crazy one.” Mr. Cute.

 

 

“Ah….huh. Who the hell are you?” Me.

 

 

“Oh…(hand out ready to be shaken), I’m one of your bosses. Aren’t you supposed to know that?” Mr. Cute.

 

“Shit…Oh, sorry, Sir. I’m quite…very occupied at the moment, Sir. Don’t have time for a family tree…Sir!” Me. And handshake.

 

After that day, we were having quick conversations in the elevator from time to time. He said he liked talking to me because my reputation served me well! One time, he asked me what was the exact part of my job that I hated the most. So, I had to tell him,

 

“That is very difficult to say, Sir. I have to talk to customers, do some sketches, talk to our builders and back to customers, try to persuade them, this is the best of the best and…the painting, the drafting, the builders, the colour, the wood, the fabric…and bed, bath, and beyond!!!!! In addition, I’ve needed to consult with a fortuneteller, a boxer trainer, a dog’s trainer, and a bug’s trainer? I haven’t decided yet, which part. Did I mention about my bosses too?” Me.

 

After I finished my sentences, the elevator had reached floor 26 so I bid him a good day. On one good day, the elevator’s abnormal daily conversation turned to a childbirth conversation.

 

“What do you think? We’ll always be your family.” Mr. Cute.

 

 

 

“Sir? You want to put….Your Sperm…through my cervix with a big giant needle? Are you sure this is the right place for this conversation?” Me.

 

I thought he was nuts, picking me for the job! He agreed that we should get together sometime, and the sometime was on that weekend. It was dinner at a marvelous restaurant. I was looking around and following a receptionist to Mr. Cute's table. Out of the corner of my eye was a vision that led me to think I could not survive the night. My CEO and Mr. Cute…seriously, what was wrong with us?…I meant women. Well, Mr. Ok was there…so I needed to let the freak out, and that was what I was thinking before I reached them.

 

Our dinner conversations were…coming from a strong emotional state…the same as…my food!

 

“Mr. Ok. Mr. Cute…Sirs. Are you sure I’m the right one for the job?...Sir. As I’m…AKA….Crazy And The Bitch. Besides, we’re bloody crazy busy right now. In my experience, having a baby and combining the baby with crazy busy days is…actually not my choice of ingredients…Sir. My friend, Mr. Cross; his parents were divorced. His mother was remarried to Mr. Johnnie Walker Black Label, pretty much busy. His father was remarried to a businesswoman, who is even more crazy busy. However, they must have loved him because they gave him everything he wanted. I learnt how to play guitar because of him, oh, and how to play PlayStation 1. I liked Harvest Moon. It’s fun; my husband in the Harvest Moon was an owner of a tavern! Anyways, Mr. Cross was bored and lonely. So, he decided to move back home and stay with Lucifer. Am I going to get paid? You know, during pregnancy…off work, if you decide to give me the baby project, I have to go to Japan after this accomplishment, bosses.” Me.

 

“Why Japan?” Mr. OK.

 

 

“Well, they have the muscular tube makeover! You see, nothing comes in yet, but your baby gonna come, crawling out? Can you understand why we have a vagina makeover, doctors?” Me.

 

 

I did not hear anything about the baby maker project anymore, but I was hanging out with them…actually, with all my bosses from time to time. They were good bosses, so I took advantage of our relationship, which was the bosses’ power… and everyone did what I told them to do...awesome! The 26th floor was fortissimo by me and, of course, I became Mr. Hardly, my draft tutor, who liked to name me in the different angles of brainless interpretation and teach some F-words. In a hysterical way, I thought he was in love with me! Every technique and idea he taught me helped me a lot when I had my thick-headedness under my command.

 

In 1992, my country became an international headline. Actually we attempted a few times before. Finally, in 1992, we achieved…the world headline Of “Black May”!

 

Black May or Bloody May is a common name for between 17 and 20 May 1992’s popular protest in Bangkok against the…king of the throne, General Suchinda Kraprayoon and the military…and the crackdown that followed. Up to 200,000 people demonstrated in central Bangkok at the height of the…ready-to-die protests. The military crackdown resulted in 52 “officially confirmed deaths,” many disappearances, hundreds of injuries, and over 3,500 arrests. And those who were arrested were allegedly inflicted with severe pain!!

 

All that, I was so proud! The only problem was the information, it was not accurate, there were more deaths, more missing people, and more fun than what was reported. May 19, 1992, while Moonlight and I were flying Ms. Lady (my beetle), my cellular phone yelled; back at that time, cell phones were a new and they were extremely large…

 

“Hey, Balloon, where the fuck are you?” Mr. Moody Be Good.

 

 

“In Ms. Lady. Flying. Why?” Me.

 

 

“I need you now. I’m at the protests. Why didn’t you pick up the bloody phone?” Mr. Moody Be Good.

 

 

“Well, we just got back into Ms. Lady and it’s impossible for me to carry this giant…military mayday box while I’m walking! By the way, I call it Giant. Coz it sounds cool when someone says, ‘Can I borrow your giant?’ He he.” Me.

 

“Ok…ok, get your ass here now. I need your support. And some food!” Mr. Moody Be Good.

 

So, I was there and dragged Moonlight with me…undeniably! We did not care about the protests, or the action expressing disapproval, I was there because of Mr. Moody Be Good, and Moonlight was there because she was inside Ms. Lady with me! Ms. Lady’s speakers informed us that it was getting very, very…hypersensitive at the protests, but I did not care. I Need You Now changed Ms. Lady from a donkey into a fast and furious road machine.

 

About 5:00 or 6:00 pm, we were on one side of a public bus, and on the other side of the bus were people walking around leisurely. The speakers, which had been set to the area, were singing national songs…and we sat there eating Mc. Donalds! I had not finished with Mr. Mc. Donalds yet when I heard a sound of an explosion. My brain responded like an animal’s response to a certain stimulus: Stand Up! There was a….I was pretty sure, it was a …bomb? Well, it was a cookie jar with smiling emoji faces, burning between those soldiers and us. I told my friends to get up simultaneously…hmm…with a sound of a gun, which was fired from a building in the area, and then, everything went from the sound of music to the sound of hellfire!

 

There were guns fired, pieces of wood, knives and everything that could be possibly be transfigured into something that could inflict bodily harm. The protesters did not have high-technology weapons like the officers on the opposite side (who were sworn to serve and protect us, but not today). The protesters’ weapons were from before…1000 BC? I wanted to ask Mr. Moody Be Good if it was ok to change sides. But by that time, many people were behind the bus with us, so I did not think it was a good idea to ask and it was definitely not a good place! Then a T-XXX-something battle tank came, and I said to my friends that the fun time was over and we needed to go.

However, Mr. Moody Be Good wanted to see the thing through to the end, so I told him that if he goes to hell, to say hi to Mr. Cross for me.

 

 

 

Ms. Lady was about a 30-minute walk from the protest area, and when we reached Ms. Lady, my Giant (cellular phone) was yelling…again, and it was my maker. Since I had my beetle and bloody heavy cell phone, she called me weekly or more, I told myself if I had to hire a secretary…again, definitely, she would not look like my desk girl.

 

“Where the hell are you? I’ve been calling for 3 hours.” The mother.

 

 

“Well, why don’t you tell me, what do you want?” Me.

 

 

“Where!!!!!??” The mother, with her special gifted.

 

 

“At the protests.” Me.

 

 

“Are you a fucking idiot? You get back here. I need to stock some food. In case, the protests are going too long!” The mother.

 

The reason Mr. Glass gave me the giant cell phone was because the pagers, which he gave me, were in my…aquarium. Well, we lived in Bangkok City, where was dominated by the world’s worst traffic! I did not think it was appropriate for anyone to page me under any circumstances!

 

The next day, we all got together at Mr. Moody Be Good’s place. I also invited Professor Daddy, Mr. Glass, and Ms. No Water. It was necessary…it had to be Mr. Moody Be Good’s place…mmm…It was…something to do with… smoke on the water,

…weeds time!

 

 

“Hey, Balloon. You know the