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

to bring them back to hell…You must have a lot of questions…Right?” Mr. Cross.

 

“Huh!…Aha…yes! What do they call you…in hell?” Me.

 

 

“Azazel.” Mr. Cross.

 

 

Mr. Cross started telling me about…his story!

 

 

According to demonology, Azazel, whose name is probably derived from “Falling Angel” was an evil influence who led to the corruption of humanity. Because he was among heaven’s angels, a gloriously beautiful man with wings on his back. When he sympathized with Satan, he was cast down to earth and became a leader of the kicked- out angels. By the time he became a major character in Jewish and Christian texts, he had taken on a demonic appearance…like evil’s cosmetic makeover for Halloween.

 

I was not sure what I could think after he had done his…story about himself, I had never thought about god, evil, and ghosts, I did not have time, so the conversation was interesting!

 

 

 

“Wow, Mr. Cross. That is awesome! Can you help me when I go to hell?” Me.

 

 

“Of course, you’re my friend.” Mr. Cross.

 

 

“So, how long do you have to…be here…on Earth?” Me.

 

 

“Until the balance of the earth has been restored.” Mr. Cross.

 

 

“I’m glad I found you. You’re my insurance in hell. Thanks.” Me.

 

 

“Anytime! I’ll tell Lucifer. I’m sure he’d like to meet you!” Mr. Cross.

 

 

“Oh…dear, really? Do you think he would like…me?” Me.

 

 

“Yes, I’m certain! Although, I might have to warn him about your craziness, I’m sure he’ll like you very much!” Mr. Cross.

 

“Hallelujah, I’ve never been so happy…like…right now! Could you please, tell Lucy that we’re going to manage some boundaries. Is that ok?” Me.

 

“Sure, you can have your own place there. Don’t worry, Balloon. I’ve got your back, baby!” Mr. Cross.

 

I did tell Moonlight about Mr. Cross, I knew I should have kept my promise, but Moonlight was my best friend and she was the only family I had.

 

There were few like Mr. Cross and all of them were just indistinguishable like me. For example, Ms. Dim Dim, she liked to wear her clothes inside out, and Mr. Gas, who had a car, but felt intense dislike of driving, so he hired me to drive his car, pick him up at his house and kick him out…at his house. There was also Mr. Ghostmen, who believed he was a medium, so he liked to talk to his ghosts, and Ms. Boy, who liked to be a boy with yellow hair and she was also some…big governor’s daughter.

 

 

“Are you collecting weirder friends or something? What does happen to a normal one?” Moonlight.

 

“Well. You know, I always have a soft spot for broken things. We don’t know what happens to them at home. Rich or poor seems to live in the same old shit! Besides, think in a good way. When we’re dead and go to hell…possibly! Mr. Cross will help us!” Me.

 

“Ah…huh. And if we go to heaven? So…? What?” Moonlight.

 

 

“Then we’re fucked. How are we going to fit in there with a PTSD academic qualification? You don’t really think the god’s crazy…do you?” Me.

 

“You’ve got a point. Ok, I need to be nice to Mr. Cross then. Can you ask Mr. Cross if I can have a king-size bed?” Moonlight.

 

By my year 3, I moved from a draft to a designer and made more money, but it was still not enough. Studying architecture was not a cheap major, colours, papers, and shit were expensive, therefore, my gun-girl company was back in business, and I made more money than in high school. Yes, I knew…it was bad!

 

There were 3 groups in my class: lunatic, normal ignorance, and normal egotism.

The normal ignorance group were my customers, but the normal egotism group just…left me alone. I was not sure if it was because of my appearance or my PTSD. Moonlight said they were jealous because my works were…different from usual in a mentally deranged way. And I was transferred from pre-med…they were afraid to be a body part!

 

I did not care…I was more…like…back off…girl, I had my schedules after work and study, and I was always in my office…at work, doing school projects and work projects at the same time because it was cheaper for…me but…it was not my idea.

 

“Hey Balloon! Why don’t you do the school’s projects too? You can use these colours for your projects.” Professor Daddy.

 

 

“Hmm…mm…don’t think your partners would like that!” Me.

 

 

“Don’t worry. They’re cabbage’s heads. They’d not know anything.” Professor Daddy.

 

 

“Sir…so I need to design my school projects with…something that matches the colours?? That isn’t gonna be easy…” Me.

 

“You’re crazy and you’re smart. Problems solved.…Maybe, you are not smart like they said…just a doll’s head.” Professor Daddy.

 

“They?” Me.

 

 

“Your classmates. The normal ones!” Professor Daddy.

 

 

“Ah. I didn’t think they even notice me…odd! They hardly talk to me!” Me.

 

 

“Really. Huh…I think they’re afraid of you. Look, who isn’t? Clothes, hair, hands…Have you ever looked…deep into a mirror?” Professor Daddy.

 

“What is wrong with it? I’m an art student. I don’t want to be like those chicks in other majors.” Me.

 

“What is so terrible? They’re cute girls.” Professor Daddy.

 

 

“Sir…the giggling. The brushing and…tight skirt. Not even mentioning about…spotting everywhere she goes…princess of…subservient? It looks so…frustrated.” Me, with actions.

 

“Ha ha. You listen! Designers are supposed to be elegant. Who is going to hire a designer who looks like…you? How are we supposed to present something beautiful when we look like…you? Behind your Bob Marley’s sister shit idea, you’re a beautiful girl. Don’t waste it.” Professor Daddy.

 

 

After that day, I changed…a bit, brushed my hair, cleaner clothes, as much as I could possibly find. Moonlight’s grandmother brought some clothes for her and I was a bit smaller than her, so problem solved. Professor Daddy was right, the normal egotism gang started talking to me after…new me! Some claimed that they were afraid that I might have bitten them, others, hmm…afraid that I had cockroaches in my hair. Mr. Cross thought they were envious of us (me and him) because we were different, but I was not sure about his idea…envious?…No…afraid?…Yes!

 

Mr. Moody Be Good was always around, even though he was in the Product Design major, still, he was my customer…hmmm. Mr. Moody Be Good was nice to Moonlight and I; his mother owned a big shop, which sold almost everything including food…so Mr. Moody Be Good did…do…shoplifting from his…mother’s shop for us! He liked to hang out at our apartment…a lot because his stepfather decided to train himself, becoming a boxer. To be a boxer, he used Mr. Moody Be Good and his mother, as punching bags.

 

One…good evening, Moonlight and I stopped by at Mr. Moody Be Good’s, we were talking, smoking weed and joking about his…shoplifting! I knew that was bad. While we were enjoying our conversations, Mr. Moody Be Good’s stepfather wanted to practice his boxing skill! Moonlight and I had a skill of movement survivor…but Mr. Moody Be Good’s mother did not. Before the stepfather turned to Mr. Moody Be Good, something so loud hit into my eardrums, and a moment later, the stepfather was gone…down. Moonlight was screaming like a chick bitch, but Mr. Moody Be Good and I were looking at each other in the way of “Problem solved.” A gunman was Mr. Moody Be Good’s neighbour, and he could not listen to “The Sound of Silence” anymore!

 

Things were good until my year 4, Moonlight wanted to change schools to the north because they had the German language. She was in a language major and she was an excellent one, I always told her that only an autistic could speak, read, and write 5 languages! I agreed with her that she would do well there and it was an excellent university in the north. I was able to pay the rent at the time, but before Moonlight went to the north, the brother showed up at my school and told me that his mother offered me 2,000 baht for moving back…home? I told the mother, I did not need her money and it would be good if I did not need to pay rent. We had an agreement that I paid for

 

 

hydro and water bills, and Moonlight stayed with me on our school break. “Without dick-head, how bad could it be?” That was what I said to Moonlight, so she did not have to worry. The move back home was kind of…like a landlord, and most of the time, I was in my office, doing my shit until late.

 

When I was in the final year, I was able to finish my subjects for my graduation early. All the reports and exams were done and my research was accepted along with my project, I only needed to wait for my project to be exhibited. It was important for us because many design companies would come and might offer one of us a job. As my school assignments were completed, I spent a lot of time working and busy with my

gun-girl company, I had been hired to do…research and projects!!!!

 

 

At work, it was going…never be happy! My bosses often sent me to sex hotels, sex bars, soapy massage (where a girl gives a customer a shower and massage with her naked body) and visited strip clubs. They sort of…enjoyed sending me for the jobs, and every time when I got back from meeting with customers,

 

“Balloon! What were you and the customer talking about?” Mr. Hardly.

 

 

“Ah. Do you really want to know?…Are you sure?” Me.

 

 

“Fuck! If I don’t’ want to know, why the hell do I ask you?…Chick’s head!!” Mr. Hardly, in his usual self!

 

“Oh, you know…how bloody desperate men could be without a hole! Do you have a problem with…a hole? That why you want to know?” Me. Ouch! (P.S., Mr. Hardly liked beating a kid!)

 

Something like that! It was not often we got…the projects, but still, most projects were home offices, where people live, work, and shit at the same place; those were Professor Daddy’s words! Other projects were building businesses, hotels, and restaurants. We were like…all-in-one design and construction, but we used co- companies to do the building for us.

 

 

Professor Daddy’s partners were Mr. Neat (he was a professor in a Law major program) and Mr. Bamboo (he was a construction engineer), and they were friends. Mr. Neat was a rich one; he liked to send me to a particular unnatural customer he called “Fat Cunt” and the interpretation would refer to someone who understood that a good architect required nice tits. Mr. Neat’s idea was to dress me up, so he gave me some money to buy “Nice sexy clothes, not a sexy slut…get it?” he said! I got a t-shirt, a good one made in Paris, and nice trousers made in the U.S.A.

 

“That’s what you call sexy?” Mr. Neat.

 

 

“Yaaa, don’t you see? It’s Guy Laroche! Don’t worry boss, I won’t let you down…promise. Oh, here is your change. Thanks, boss!” Me.

 

The fat cunt did sign a contract with us; I was told that he had 6 meetings with different…tits? Therefore, Mr. Neat asked me what did I do?

 

“I didn’t do anything Boss! After I was done listening to him about how a good architect should dress sexy, I said, ‘Sir! I’m very confident with my brain…sir. And you need…my sexy brain for your hospital, not tits…and asses? But, if you would like your hospital filled up with…tits and asses, my boss would send somebody else with…sir.

The choice is yours, but if you let me do my job, I won’t let you down…sir!’ And that’s it…Boss. Anything else Mr. Neat…Boss?” Me.

 

While I was busy with the fat cunt’s hospital project, I got a phone call from Mr.

Moody Be Good. Mr. Cross had gone to his actual home…hell, in the act of causing death…intentionally, and he left me a letter.

 

Mr. Cross’s parents were divorced, the cause of divorce was something to do with…dull and genius…too bad his mother did not have a smart-kit! So, his father was remarried to a businesswoman and therefore, his mother was…remarried to Mr.

Johnnie Walker Black Label…yes…he backed. His father came to visit only when a dog smiled, but he always