Category Archives: Dean Christ

18
Apr

Train Sailors

Story by Tyler McPeek

Artwork by Dean Christ

 

     Kumiko and Fumie always worked as a team, just like they always entered the teachers’ room at the vocational high school they attended hand-in-hand between bell periods, and just like they dated two boys who both belonged to the same local gang.  They were both seventeen, both died their hair a dull orange and both wore loose white socks to the top of their milk tea calves and rolled the skirts of their school uniforms to tortuously short levels.  Today, before school, in uniform, they were working N― Station.

     The idea had been thought up by Kumiko’s boyfriend, a tall 22-year-old named Yuuske.  Yusuke, leaning against the railing of a river bridge in the shopping district, in his baggy, purple construction worker outfit, white towel around his head, holding his long golden hair out of his face, had explained that there was really no risk for the girls, as they could simply walk away if the scheme fell through.  “Pick a shy, lonely looking loser,” he had explained, “but make sure he looks like he’s got money.  Better to do it when he’s tired and on his way home from work, or else early in the morning when he’s thinking about the day ahead and doesn’t know what the fuck is going on.  Pick a slob who’s standing, a real ugly, loser type.  Somebody nobody would believe, probably never been laid by anybody but his ugly wife in his whole life.  You know the type.”  Yusuke pulled at his crotch, then lit a cigarette.  “One of you girls sit down nearby, and one of you move in.  Get close to the guy.  If you can, try to get him to make a grab for real.  Let your skirt brush against the back of his hand.  If you think he’s a good fish, confront him even if he doesn’t make a grab.  Wait till he makes a move to get off the train, then follow him.  As soon as the doors to the train close behind all three of you, grab onto his arm.  Then, lay it out for him—either he pays, or you take the matter to the police.  Make sure you grab on tight, and don’t let him pull away.  If he refuses, then the other one of you should say that she saw him do it.  Call him a pervert, a groper; use the word chi痴漢kan.”  If he coughs up the money, get out of there quick.  If you know he’s not going to give it up, get of there.  I’d say you’ve got an 80% percent chance of hitting pay dirt, if you pick the right guy.  You know… not too old, not too young—glasses, suit, the kind of guy you’d make fun of at school…”

     “How much should we ask for?” inquired Kumiko.  The new Louis Vuitton purse she wanted was 50,000 yen.

18
Apr

Warm Hands

Story by Tyler McPeek

Artwork by Dean Christ

 

“Excuse me for being rude Oda-san, may I give you the report you wanted now?”  The lips of the young worker were pressed tightly together, and his eyes were fixed as he waited for Mr. Oda to respond.  Standing before Oda-sempai, a man some 25 years his senior, the young man’s frame was stiff, portraying a protocol and formality that made him appear tight and rigid beyond his years.

     “What?  Excuse me, what?”  Blurted Junichiro Oda.  Then, without pause, “Oh, that.  Right.  I’ll take that now.  Thanks.”  Oda wore a discerning face, but his mind was elsewhere as he feigned interest in the recently acquired finance report.  The report contained pages and pages of rhetoric and fluff, which accounted for vast stretches of logged hours by a group of younger associates in the company, sadly padding three pages of essential, yet depressing debt figures accrued by the agency during the last quarter.  Still, to present these figures in any other fashion would have been inappropriate, considering Oda’s superior position in the company’s corporate structure.

     It was nearing 7:30pm, and Oda desperately wanted to leave the office.  He knew of at least 3 of his underlings who would stay all night if necessary, but would never leave before him.  Still, certain procedures had to be observed, appearances had to be maintained, so Oda-san gazed at the report, slowly flipping through the first few pages.

     Through the glass partition that surrounded his cubicle-office-hybrid, he could see the majime associates busying themselves with the task of looking busy, but as soon as he looked away, he could feel their anxious eyes focusing on the curves of his meaty face, the sag in his tired composure, the blue reflection of the computer screen in the thick lenses of his bifocals.

18
Apr

Gray on White

Story by Tyler McPeek

Artwork by Dean Christ

 

“Hello, everyone.  My name is John Kilks.  I am from Toronto, Canada.  Please look at this map.  Does anyone know where Toronto is?”

The students in the front row looked hard into his face, then slowly toward the map.  An older man of 60 or so spoke out without raising his hand.  “Pahhapsu, I sink zhato Toronto izu in Ontario Probinsu.”  He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest.

“That’s right Mr.… What is your name?”

“My name is Takahiro Yamagishi.  I habu been to Canada.”

“Oh, really.. where have—“

“Aah you Johnny on zha spot?”

John scanned the faces of the other 7 students in the room.  Four of their faces looked blank and worried.  One girl in her twenties and another middle-aged man seemed to be following most of it.  “Johnny on the Spot…well, I don’t know what—“

 

+Alpha Members
Ten Colors on Facebook: Follow us for updates
Get in touch!

Clear
Search:
© Copyright 2010-2017 Ten Colors Press. All rights reserved. Created by Dream-Theme — premium wordpress themes. Proudly powered by WordPress.