David
was an artist. He was unlike his father in that, and also in that he
was a ladies' man. His dad was not able to communicate with women, at
least not easily enough for them to be eager to be close to him. In
fact, he suspected that this fairly status-less bank employee that was his
official father, wasn't that in reality. But his father was after all a father in the sense that he could be of help now and then, he thought.
David was twenty-two and had managed to start his own business, using a
loan from the bank were his father worked. With it, he had
bought an small decaying building, which he fairly easily had been
able to renovate well enough for it to be used as a workshop and an
artist lounge with a gallery and boutique in them, and sort of almost
an office, even. It could to some extent also be used to sleep in,
but only if the outdoor temperature wasn't very low.
His
parents' apartment was fairly large. There he lived, together with
them and his five years younger sister. At this night's dinner table,
he was telling for his father about some potentially extremely
precarious, but rich, probable costumers.
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So,dad, he asked, what do you
think? How am I supposed to handle them?
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It's all about strategy, his father
answered. As soon as you feel ready for it, he continued, you should
start trying to find out what they're about!
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Dad, I already know what they're
into. I mean their business seems to be about hide and seek in the
first place, and I know a whole lot about their strategies for it!
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Then why in the world are you
trying to avoid getting into business with them?!
ـِـ
I'm not quite trying to avoid that!
It's just that I have to be careful to take care of the other
costumers I'll be dealing with, since their sly and potentially
dangerous tactics might, perhaps at least, frighten them. If
the word gets around that I'm dealing with them, possibly even
all of the others will be having second thoughts about me and my
gallery.
David's
young sister Deborah smiled scornfully about that David had not gone
to college, but tried a career as an artist instead.
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Why did you think you were such a
role model in the first place?
David
looked chocked.
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Deborah, I wasn't trying to be
that! I was trying to be the fellow that should be into taking things
the way they should be taken! It's only mom, and perhaps you dad, who
told you ـِـ
or didn't you,dad? Mom? ـِـ
to view me as it!
His
dad cleared his throat, but said nothing. His mother thought for a
while before saying:
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I suppose there is not any reason
to believe he's such a winner after all then, at least not so that we
can be sure of it! ... But dear, don't pretend it's not about
smartness that he even is getting started with business due to his
art!
Deborah
smiled smugly.
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It's not about art, she retorted.
It's about the gangster friends he's been into! It's about that art
business being a cover for their crimes! ... Oh, I can find him a
role model alright! A role model for faking care for everybody, for
being into covering up for the real bastards! But actually, that is
what you keep on saying that I should always avoid being into!
David
looked at his sister.
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Debbie, how about that you don't
know how to handle them in the first place? I'm not asking to be your
sole model, but heck you're staying on may tail about it still,
occasionally.
She
shuddered.
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In a sense there's not any way to
avoid them. You're right about that!
Their
mother looked at her and said in a serious tone of voice:
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No, and do you know what?! Not even
the head teacher of you class is much else than a gangster! Or at
least he's a wife beater and a guy who ...
She
stopped her self and giggled.
ـِـ
Who did what?
Deborah looked sternly at her when asking.
Deborah looked sternly at her when asking.
She
hesitated before answering:
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I've been speaking to his wife, the
head teachers wife. She has told me that he always refuses to put on
any underwear when going to work. He has told her to say to herself
that it's just the natural self of him that is under his pants, and
that he's into the adventure of seeing himself as the presentable
fellow he “really is,” she told me. ... Now, don't you tell
anybody that I told you so, but that's what he is!