Love & Lemons
sugars & milk,
steaming hot: latte art.
black & bitter, made silk;
love awakens cold hearts.
stormy clouds, silver shade,
goosebumps, kissing cool rain;
spooning s y r u p, ice-shaved,
rainbow sprinkled, numbs pain.
thickets, thorns, berry vines,
biscuit blankets, dulce —
sour/tart, turned divine,
I was depressed after what had happened. Now I stood at behind the firm stone door of the ruins, completely shunned away from the rest of the world. In my eyes tears ran freely. I recalled that the day where I got the news of the death of my father. It was a breezy afternoon and I was out with Chara. It was an amzing day to begin with, we had a whole hour of fun until my father's sick kick, Alphys, came to find me.
"I'm so sorry... Dr. Lenore... Your father... He fell into the CORE along with his 5 other companions."
I stood dead in my tracks.
I was stunned in silence. My father, the greatest royal scientist of all time... dead?
"This must have been a mistake... Alphys, please, tell me this is a joke?"
She said nothing. But the look on her face. It shows it all. I bent down and in the arms of Chara, I wept.
After the episode, I had to accept the fact that my father had died. nobody would have survived that fall anyway, especially not into the CORE. My father had said that. Tears still lingered in my eyes as I collected whatever possessions my father had in the lab. They were mostly just blueprints and notes from previous experiments. I packed them all neatly in alphabatical order into cardboard boxes I found lying around. Soon after, I realised that I had no where to go. I had spent my whole 17 years of life in this very lab and never left it since. Where shall I go?
I didn't like the town anyways, it was loud. Waterfall? Too wet. Hotlands... Never. After contemplating here and there I suddenly recalled a place that my father had once said - the ruins. The most secluded place I could find, plus I don't want people coming up and giving me their sincere condolences, it honestly makes me feel worst.
So here I am. In the ruins for the past 2 years. I wonder what is going on with Chara and Alphys, two of my very best buds. I wiped my tears away and sat down onto the cold hard floor, my back against the door as I drifted away...
Huh... Wait, who could be at my door? I thought nobody knew about the ruins except for me...
I replied unknowingly "Who's there."
The guy at the other guy seemed very surprised that I was there. I heard him mutter that he didn't expect a girl to reply him. Pooh, rude. I rolled my eyes.
"Dishes," He said.
"Dishes who?" I said.
"Dishes a very bad joke."
"Hahahahahahahaha..." I laughed and laughed. I can't believed I actually laughed! It feels so good to laugh again... After for such a long time.
"Hey bro..." I said, my stomach still painful from laughter.
"Mind if you come back tomorrow... For the jokes?"
"Sure thing, after all, you're a great audience."
Laugh or Die.
(P.S. This is the promised sequel to Speak of The Devil’s Daughter)
‘Hey! I find your daughter and you put me in here?’ I shouted and rattled the bars of my cell. Nobody paid me any attention.
As you folks following my huge embarrassment of a life may have recalled, my day was hijacked a few days ago by an ice-cream stealing daughter of the Devil. And after she had left, her devilish father had appeared in all his bell-bottomed glory, giving me his name card and making me promise to call him as soon as I spotted the ice-cream thief again.
I mean, could you refuse Satan anything? He’d probably reduce me to a grease spot on the floor, only to have my mother spray Mold-Away on me.
And true to my words, once I spotted Satan’s daughter again, I had phoned the Bell-Bottomed One, whose number bore an uncanny resemblance to the Fibonacci Sequence and pi. (How’d you even get Wi-Fi in Hell?) It worked though, and in a few minutes a SWAT team (That stands for Satan’s Wicked And Tortured) arrived post-haste, only to arrest me and Satan’s daughter.
Five minutes later, I found myself in a prison in Hell. What can I say about Hell? It was hot. And depicted very gory scenes, which is probably why children don’t go to Hell. It’s probably NC-34 over there.
And since I hadn’t gotten a permit to leave Hell (which can be obtained in Heaven, I learned from the SWAT team), I was to be stuck there for a long, long time.
If only I hadn’t bought ice-cream a few days ago.
Luckily for me, a fat dude popped up next to the six SWAT members, who were guarding my cell. (Honestly, do I need that much guards? Am I such a threat?) The SWAT team shouted in alarm and raised their pitchforks, but Fat Dude snapped his fingers. As if on cue, all the guards went crazy. One grabbed the dude next to him and began to waltz with him. The third guard began to breakdance wildly in perfect synchronicity with the fourth guard, who was doing ballet. The fifth and six guards burst into tribal dance moves.
In all, it was pure chaos.
Fat Dude turned to me. He had curly black hair, small beady eyes and a potbelly the size of a watermelon. He was wearing a garish purple shirt and shorts, which was so short they were practically boxer shorts. Without a word, he tapped the lock and the door swung open.
‘It won’t be long before the guards revert back to normal,’ Fat Dude warned.
‘Father doesn’t like me doing permanent damage. I’ll have to write a report to the Board of Ethics.’
I was still confused. Who was this fat man, whose dad permitted him to run around causing jailbreaks and temporary madness? Before I could ask anything, Fat Dude snapped his fingers and the world spun.
I found myself in the ruins of an ancient Greek theatre with no memory of landing. The Theatre of Dionysus. I’d seen it in photographs. Fat Dude stood next to me, holding a goblet of wine.
‘Have some?’ he offered. Another goblet shimmered into existence in his other hand and filled itself with red wine.
‘I’m underage,’ I muttered. I had no desire to drink wine or beer after I hit the drinking age though. They taste horrible. I have no idea why grown-ups enjoy them so much.
He shrugged and the second goblet disappeared. ‘Well, don’t you have anything to say to me, boy?’
Firstly, I’m not a boy. I’m sixteen. Boys refer to males under the age of 12. Or that’s how I like to think.
I wondered if that was what he wanted me to say.
‘Um . . . thank you?’ I briefly asked myself if grovelling was needed. I restrained myself to.
‘Well, words aren’t enough. And my help comes with a price. Do you know who I am, boy?’ he questioned, already on his third glass of wine.
I racked my brain. Wine . . . madness . . .
What happened next, I owe it to Rick Riordan.
‘Dionysus! You’re Dionysus!’ I blurted. (Reading those Percy Jackson books really paid off.)
He smirked. ‘Finally, it comes to your small mortal mind. Yes, I am Dionysus, god of wine and madness, though I much prefer Lord Dionysus.’
And what happened next, I owe it to Steve Rogers.
‘There’s only one God, and I’m sure He doesn’t dress like that,’ I mumbled.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, I’m not actually a god. That’s a misnomer. I belong to a race of superpowerful immortal beings who call themselves Olympians.’
So . . . a superpowerful fat dude who could make wine from air and drive people insane? Why not? My mind just expanded to fit all the weirdness in.
‘I recalled saying that my help comes with a price, yes?’
‘Um, yes.’ I didn’t like how he said price.
‘Well, you can make me laugh!’ he declared.
‘And . . . what if I can’t make you laugh?’ I ventured.
Dionysus’s bright smile lost some of its wattage. ‘Well, then I’ll have to kill you for disappointing me.’
‘I’ll do it!’ I said immediately.
‘Excellent! I’ll give you an hour to prepare. See you later!’
He vanished in thin air, leaving the smell of grapes.
While Dionysus did whatever Olympians did in their free time, I paced the ancient theatre, trying to think of something entertaining. Humor isn’t exactly my strong point.
That was when the second Olympian appeared. In fact, I had already gotten used to beings popping out of nowhere, so I was able to sufficiently control my heart rate. Lean, tall and muscled, he had tousled hair the color of rust, large blue eyes and wore a postman’s uniform, which accentuated his wiry frame. Tucked beneath an arm was a postman’s cap with two little dove wings. I also noticed his black boots had two wings each too. He held a parcel in his hands.
This was obvious. ‘Hermes,’ I tried to sound reverent.
He nodded. ‘Parcel for you,’ he said as he thrust the package into my hands. As I fumbled with it, he produced a signature pad. ‘Sign here, please.’
My mom had told me not to accept things from strangers, but I got the feeling that if superpowerful beings wanted to give me things, I had better accept.
After I picked up the pen (which had two metal snakes coiled around the pen’s barrel) and signed, Hermes disappeared in a flash of golden light.
I ripped open the parcel a little too hastily. In there was a carefully wrapped bottle of something and some small parts of equipment. The label on the bottle read N₂O.
Nitrous oxide. Laughing gas.
There was even a manual on how to assemble a portable laughing gas system.
I set to work.
An hour later, Dionysus arrived. ‘Well, hello there!’ he beamed at me.
Easy for him to smile. He wasn’t facing execution.
‘Ah . . . hi to you too.’ I connected the last two tubes. Hopefully I hadn’t misread the manual. If I had, things would go really wrong.
‘Well, I trust that you have something planned out?’ he enquired.
‘Well, yes, I do.’ Then I pulled the oldest trick since God created the universe. ‘Look over there!’
Despite being immortal, Dionysus apparently had little experience. He waddled around, doing a full 180-degree turn. I took that chance to lunge at him and strap the mask on, before hitting the release button. As the laughing gas entered his Olympian constitution, I began to tickle him in all the sensitive spots known to man. (My mother taught me all the best areas for tickles.)
Dionysus began to shudder at first. Then he began to giggle a little.
Then it blew into a belly laugh.
‘HAHAHAHA! Stop! Stop!’ he chortled. I relented as he stooped, catching his breath and pulling off the mask.
‘So, do I win?’ I offered.
‘Why, yes you do. The Olympians favor you, boy,’ he chuckled. He snapped his fingers and I was in my room, back at home. The only difference was a small card in my hand.
We’ll meet again. For there is a price for Olympian help.
Emblazoned on the card was a caduceus staff, the symbol of Hermes.
When the Flag Flies High
When the flag flies high
It brings a sense of independence and victory
When the flag flies high
You will hear the world cheering your name
When the flag flies high
It displays itself with confidence and pride
When the flag flies high
It will beam down on all its world
When the flag flies high
(This is a real story)
I think of you when it rains.
You had come to my house for a party after Graduation
with our classmates.
We had fun, enjoyed the food,
Best of all,
But of course,
good things come to an end.
And you had to leave.
It rained then
like even Heaven
was trying to stop you
But rain couldn’t stop the iron wills
on the other side of the phone.
Just when you were going to leave
Suggested (read as teased)
That I should escort you home.
You and I were the talk of the class,
the Arthur and Guinevere of our class’ Camelot.
(Luckily, Lancelot was not present.)
My mother immediately agreed
and I immediately wished I had Excalibur
to wipe the smirks off my classmates’ faces.
(I wouldn’t actually do that, I’m too kind an individual)
Alas, Merlin wasn’t there too.
Although she probably would have
told me to do so too.
(Yes, my previous form teacher is my Merlin. Shout-out to all my 6B2 Peeps out there!)
With umbrella in hand,
We walked to the bus stop,
both of us silent.
Upon reaching the overhead bridge,
I passed the umbrella to her.
‘You know that they’re going to tease you when you get back, right?’
I did my best to not shout ‘Captain Obvious!’
And merely said,
With those two words, I departed.
Upon reaching my house
I was rewarded with little teasings
Much less than I had expected.
(They mostly came from the same classmate who gave the idea.)
I heaved an inward sigh of relief.
And now we have gone our separate ways
You went to the river, and me to the raffle
And I don’t know if your Lancelot has swept you off your feet.
But be aware that
I shall always be there
Excalibur in hand
Should you ever need my help.
For I have loved you
like a sister
though I never showed it.
Wherever you are,
whatever you have done,
I’ll stand by you.
And that’s a promise.