Jacinthe and Agnes are walking to music appreciation after breakfasting at Jennings. Jacinthe says, “I don’t know about that Jake. I don’t think he appreciates how much he’s been riding on my coattails.”
Agnes: “Ew!”
Jacinthe: “What?”
Agnes: “That wasn’t a double entendre?”
Jacinthe: “No! Ew!”
Agnes: “Oh! Sorry. It’s just that I don’t know what you two get up to.”
Jacinthe: “We do comics. We don’t get up to anything.”
Agnes: “Okay. You just never know with people from Moncton.”
Jacinthe: “Are you against everyone?”
Agnes: “No! I’ve got nothing against normal people.”
Jacinthe: “Okay. New subject. That tai chi club is really popular. There must be a hundred people down there.”
They tarry at the end of Rectory Lane and watch as the white-clad figures make evolutions on the marshside playing field.
Agnes: “108. Nine rows of twelve.”
Jacinthe: “You’ll make a first-rate chartered accountant some day.”
Agnes: “That’s the plan.”
Jacinthe: “Hey, isn’t that Dwayne?”
Agnes: “Where?”
Jacinthe: “The one waving.”
Agnes: “Who’s Dwayne?”
Jacinthe: “Jake’s roommate.”
Anges: “Why’s he waving?”
Jacinthe: “He loves you.”
Agnes: “What?”
Jacinthe: “He’s looking right at you.”
Agnes: “He doesn’t know me.”
Jacinthe: “But he likes what he sees.”
Agnes: “You’re awful!”
Jacinthe: “Oh-oh, I don’t think he was supposed to do that. Somebody’s going over with a stick.”
Anges: “Oh! He hit him! That’s not allowed!”
Jacinthe: “Maybe it is in tai chi. Seems pretty strict, though.”
Agnes: “It’s awful. The poor boy.”
Jacinthe brightens up.
Agnes: “What?”
Jacinthe: “Oh, nothing.”
In October each blade of grass on the Tantramar Marsh turns into a tricolor of green, yellow and red. The young stranger notices this while walking along the railway line into town from the faculty club. The young stranger could use a haircut, and a shower. On the railway bridge the stranger passes a German Shepherd going the other way. Further on the train station comes into view. It’s about seven in the morning. Near the station are a couple of CN boxcars destined for Halifax. As the stranger watches a group of five approach one of the boxcars from the Tantramar side and begin spray-painting it. The stranger observes patiently, and after about half an hour approaches them. The side of the boxcar features the motto “50 Buck” in five colors, with sparkles. The taggers fold their arms. The stranger places a fist inside the other hand and bows, the staff resting across the crooks of the two elbows.
Emily M. (in fairly decent Hong Kong cinema Cantonese): “What up, Woody Guthrie?”
Stranger: “I’m looking for a master of arts.”
Lou’Eaze: “Any particular arts, hobo? We got plenty.”
The stranger takes out a green paperback and reads the author’s name: “Korogi.”
Nellz Bellz: “Shit. That’s that professor rides that English bicycle around campus. Fucking thing can’t have more’n one gear to it.”
Ire-Ere: “With the little bell? If I live to be that lame, take me out behind the barn and put a shotgun to me.”
Henrietta: “Shit, sister, I’ll do it now.” They pantomine the act. Henrietta blows the smoke off the end of her finger. They laugh.
Stranger: “Your comradeship is palpable.”
Emily M. “Shit. Dartmouth High, straight up.”
“And your Cantonese is not very bad.”
Lou’Eaze: “Audio Select is for sucks.”
“Perhaps one day soon we shall meet as allies on the field of conflict.”
Emily M.: “Aight.”
The stranger bows and heads off into town.
Henrietta: “I’ll say this. You don’t meet many wandering scholar-warriors.”
The stranger crosses the intersection of York and Main, climbs the slope to the burying ground, takes a seat against one of the headstones, then fishes a stolen parsnip from a pocket and waits, chewing and watching the traffic. Presently Professor Korogi comes into view, cycling along the Main Street sidewalk toward the downtown. The stranger casts at glance at the traffic lights, grabs the five-foot staff, runs, leaps off the brow of the hill, executes a mid-air somersault and kicks Korogi in the head. The two of them and the bicycle cartwheel over the embankment and land on the muddy edge of the marsh. They jump to their feet. The stranger points the staff at Korogi, making a small circle in the air with the end. Korogi, for want of a better weapon, grabs the bicycle by the handles and stands it up on its hind wheel, using it as a obstacle. A series of feints follows as the stranger thrusts at the professor’s head and the professor ducks from side to side of the bicycle. The stranger, sensing a weakness, thrusts the staff through the bicycle spokes, but Korogi makes a hard right with the handbars and twists the staff out of the young one’s hands.
Stranger: “Huh?!”
The front wheel with the staff through it comes off the bike. Korogi drops the handlebars and grabs one end of the staff, just as the stranger regains the other end. They push and pull, the front wheel spinning around the staff between them. They twist their grips and slam up against each other, still holding on to the staff. There’s a great amount of yin and yang energy being expended, and the two end up tumbling across one another’s backs, each still holding the staff. Korogi delivers a headbutt and the stranger staggers back with a bruised forehead. The professor strips the wheel off the staff and steps forward in a kenjitsu posture, holding the staff like a sword. The stranger, weaponless, dashes forward, and Korogi takes three rapid steps backward, right onto the bicycle carcass, tangles a foot and falls to the ground. The stranger jumps on top. Grips and countergrips follow, involving lots of lapel-grabbing. They reach a point of balance where each controls the other with the right hand and holds the other off with the left, any action negated. It’s at this moment that each one notices the other’s bared right forearm. The two of them have the identical tattoo: a cricket.
“Huh?!”
“Wah!?”
The attacker jumps up, grabs the five-foot staff, gives a long flabbergasted look, and dashes away into the marsh.
The professor sits up and watches the stranger disappear, then starts to gather up pieces of the bicycle.
Jacinthe and Agnes peer over the bank.
Jacinthe: “Hello? Is everybody okay? Should I call an ambulance?”
Korogi: “No, no. Thank you.”
Agnes: “What about the cops? I’ll make a statement. I saw the whole thing.”
“No, it’s fine.” Korogi picks up the handlebars and rings the little bell. “I looked like a bit of a dork riding this, anyway.”
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