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Jay’s Literature Page
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| Last updated: 26 Jul 2005 |
(2001-2003)
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Mr. Hoiyez
Mr. Hoiyez, though not at all unfamiliar with many a beautiful women, was not prepared for what awaited him, when, in his twenty-eighth year of life, he toured the valley of Akre. Arriving there on the fortieth day of his journey, believing he was hopelessly lost and would any moment die alone and miserable, he dropped exactly two inches from the smoothest pair of ankles he had ever seen in his entire life. His face was by then covered in a forty-day growth of unshaved hair, his lips were parched, and his knees and fingers were trembling. When he saw the ankles, it was all he could do to admire them. If he was in any better state of health, he would have looked up to see that the legs they were attached to were bare up until halfway to the enticing thighs. A terrible loss to Mr. Hoiyez missing that sight was, for as inviting as the ankles were, the view got even better as it went higher. Surely, the best feature was up there, as if sculpted to perfection by the gods by no better implements than generations upon generation of good genes, an enchanting face whose beauty was beyond words--yet for the sake of this story, which, in the first place, relies heavily upon words in order to be told, will be described as having a very close resemblance to one Sydney Kurleto. It would, in fact, not be an exaggeration at all to say that from the pate of the head bearing the pretty face, to the tips of the exquisite toes, there was not a square micron of the being standing two inches from the duly collapsed Mr. Hoiyez that was imperfect--indeed, not one nanometric external feature blemished by unsightliness. As divine as the apparation was, it was nothing compared to when the young pretty woman made a facial expression that was one of sympathy, sadness, kindness, and unmalicious glee all at once. This was intended for the helpless figure in front of her. Indeed, Mr. Hoiyez was a lucky man beyond any measure, for if he had been made an unprepared witness to such an angelic contortion of the face, it was not at all unlikely that he would lose his mind. To the very least, his heart, in immeasureable joy and excitement, would beat acceleratingly faster until it burst, and his eyes, exposed to such radiance, would melt right in their sockets. As it was, Mr. Hoiyez passed out within five seconds. He was only half conscious of the activities around him as he was half dragged, half carried, by two such yummy females as the first described above, towards the village proper. He was also only half conscious as he was undressed, bathed, shaved, given a hair cut (and a complimentary massage), and generally restored to favorable health, during the suceeding couple of days. When he awoke--or, that is, when his return to consciousness was one so total, he could take in his surroundings and assess his general feeling at the moment--he realized he was in a room where track number three of the second disc of the new Foo Figthers double album was being played. He smiled to himself at the music, and after realizing that disc 2 of In Your Honor was now his most favorite Foo Fighters album, tried to stand up to have a good look at his surroundings. If it was in the movies, people, especially those who had helped restore him to health, would have probably appeared, and perhaps inquired about his condition, if not restrict him to exert any physical effort, lest he got binat. Yet, it wasn't the movies, and so he was able to sit up his bed without any intrusion, take a peek at what was of his body underneath the sheets--his clothes had been changed, and he was now wearing Bart Simpson walking shorts and freshly laundered underpants--and get out from the sheets to see if he could still stand. To his amazement, he found that he could. He was also glad to know that though his body had lost some weight since leaving the city for this journey, he was actually feeling good. He paced around the room, more to get the feeling of movement after who knows how many days of being bedridden, than to actually measure the size of the room. It was quite a big room he was in--twenty paces by twenty-five paces in area. In fact, as things began to make sense to him, Mr. Hoiyez gradually came to the conclusion that the room was not a bed room at all; it looked more like a common room. To the foot of his bed, there was a small TV area, with a set of one two-seater, and two one-seater couches, and a coffee table. To the right of the TV area was a music area, where the just mentioned excellent music was coming from. It consisted of a CD changer-stereo component that though was capable of eardrum-shattering loudness, was tuned down to a relaxing, actually non-obtrusive setting--conducive for the recuperation of those who had passed out from a long journey--and two tall stacks of CD's of good taste, arranged according to the year of commercial release, then artist name (surname first where applicable). To the left of the TV area was a dining area, with a rectangular dinner table that could seat a group of six people. There was a kitchen next to that, separated from the dining area by a waist-high partition with marble top counter. If there was anything that didn't seem to fit in all of it, it was the two post bed that had been placed almost in the middle, but adjacent to the western wall, of the large room--the bed he had been lying in. |
| © 2005 Jay Santos |