To Murder your Love

The Historical Trip

 The day after our ‘date’, we were somewhat escaping from her. Amanda Suyono has no idea of our presence, apparently, so the dinner went as it suppose to be under the plan. It is not pleasing for me, though, due to the haunting image of the other girl in every scoop of food I’ve eaten.

Do I truly have to avoid being seen, God-pretender? This is like I’m cheating on her, right?

‘I have stated for what I required, Yuda. This is your decision to make, and a death to dismiss.’

Yeah, kind of the challenge you create for me, huh.  

Back to Amanda Suyono and her phantom, She actually had passed the two of us for once, but she could not notice of our whereabouts by chance. We put ourselves on the shady corner of ‘gulai’ restaurant, the one that has a small-but-wide partition to contain the tables and guest’s privacy on the tabs in this shopping center. Amanda could peek on our chamber, actually, but it still need a plate of soup for her to get the warrant on spying us at any rate.

And yes, I chose ‘gulai’ for our dinner because of its identical look to my all-time favorite. The broth, dips of chicken meat, peel of tomatoes, it’s all there to mention unless for the existence of soy sauce in the mixture.

As of the outcome of the meeting..... well, I’m feeling lucky to have Tifanny on the opposite side of the table. She loves to speak of games, RPG’s one to boot, so her presence is ideal to many young gamers like me. She’s not half-bad at looks in this age, either, could be a great competition to Amanda when Tifanny got her courage to showcase of her silky-smooth and near-ivory skin on the menu.

On the other way around, I’ll never forget on her slightly-jiggly tone of her waist, as well. It’s the main treat for me to dine into. From the previous life to the current one I’ve been living in, A curvy woman is always the weakness to my taste. I have mentioned on the ‘huggable’ part, but it’s also feels more sexy to both of my eyes as much as looking to the lean-body one in my opinion.

Yeah, the two-hours of our meet-up yesterday is a green light to my advance. I can peel her crust of bashful attitude to be the most pleasant evening of the year. She’s really fun to speak with, could counter-argue my theory with a bit of salt, yet still putting a good-coating for her own reaction as much. Her beaming, slight-reddish color of Tifanny’s cheek also write down the chapter of interest from me, clearing off the picture of Amanda Suyono for the most beautiful woman I’ve been encountered in this round.

We once talked about her reason on doing the b**m-scene inside the music room for the dessert of our long-term conversation. As a result, I made her spurted a bit of green tea for the awkward atmosphere I’ve been putting to the contest from the very beginnning. On the opposite side, lots of cold stare were mostly driven out from the small opening of our private table, as the two near-dead wrinkly-lady considered our chat to be sinful and dangerous to take on.

Why didn’t you put on the curtains, fuel-less dust? Your existence itself annoy me, you know that?

By the way, Tifanny’s really love to immerse to every scene of her novel, so that’s the most extreme part of her dive-in to the real world. She’s also a little bit clumsy, so she had to take note on mistakes and do-able part of her life everyday within a diary.

How about it, God-pretender? Do you really have to re-cap everything like this in my dream?

‘It’s actually questionable if you ask me, Yuda. But I’ll accept the report no matter how reckless you are there, child. For the conclusion, I’ll need your input to consider the action next for my report to the boss, since it counts to the evaluation later on.’

Evaluation?

(poof)

Damn, he always put an abstract answer before leaving me behind. Anyway, my daily report on the investigation has finished. Time to wake up!

---

Tifanny has opened her shell for me to enter into. She shared her fear of being left-out and alone, yesterday, and I was there for her to be a friend to chat along. Like today’s assignment, for example, I could create a perfect-group with Tifanny and Bima for our presentation after the school trip. We tackle every question from our english book without worrying of an incorrect logic of tenses to our paper, and Bima’s crafty writing make everything looks glossy and flawless to read.

Yes, Bima has upgrade his own skills, from the ‘bad-luck-Bima’ to be ‘ridiculously-photogenic-Bima’ for the score. He excels in many subjects nowadays, but Germans and English has been his forte for months. Ever since I suggested him to go on reading Shakespeare’s play on “Much Ado About Nothing”, He become my ally for the quest for riding to the “No-thing” part of the story.

“Kids, before we leave. I need you to make a group. In a week or so, we have a trip to museum for research.” Mr. Bagus spoke to the class shortly before we pack our bags, “You have five minutes, or else we have to go home a little bit late.”

“YAAAY!!” The class shouted.

“Chop-chop, then, class!”

(Grumble-grumble)

It’s pretty much something to look forward, since we’re having a boring week for the class. We have been listening to mellow-voice of Mr. Yono in describing how m**********n could be dangerous, despite many over-hyped guys in the back row of the right side for the topic. The next is diving to “Man and their productive organs” from my mother, which more into s****l scenes than being an educating one to our class.

Kinda fun to learn from, but the practice should be there as well, right?

‘No. You are not, it’s under-age.’

Hoo, I see. So you’re kind of letting me go for the fun in senior high from that answer, God-pretender.

(poof)

Haha, he’s running away.

Back to the rush for groups, most of the dumb-ass idiots are gathering into one for this trip. Hobart, the stupid-yet-polite guy of our class, has been rejected by Tifanny for the role in her team. However, he doesn’t pick Gardna as a first-made choice, since that man already sets a bar of ‘hooli-gangs only’ for his group.

To the pile of “dysfunctional kid” now, Hobart..... Here you go, messing around with the likes of ‘closet p*****t’ and ‘p********a lovers’ for the museum. That’s where you are belong today.

“Hey, wanna join me?”

Tifanny’s getting closer to my desk once the hoba-pest has gone from our sight. She’s plain and direct in doing so, despite the fact that we are just a day away from our first close-encounter. The talk definitely has been the cure for our interaction, because no hint of foot-dragging from her way to speak out.

Might be because of how fluent I was in b**m, perhaps?

(Zoom)

‘Do you truly want me to note this? I’m embarrassed to discuss this to my manager, Yuda.’

Don’t be so afraid, God-Pretender. It’s a short for Binge Dating and Social Meeting, not the ‘shackly’ thing I had mentioned days before.

(poof)

He’s a pure-kind one, that God-pretender. I’m starting to like him on my side.

For the straight-forward question from Tifanny, I nod, “Yes, why not? With Bima again, too?” I answered, putting a slight giggle to the end of my acceptance afterwards,”Hey, Bima, come here!”

Listening to my command, Bima swiftly kneels to my request,“ What do you want to research on the ‘no-thing’, milord?”

“For now, it’s the ‘thing’, so be prepared to don your sword for the museum, squire.”

“Verily. Time to blast on the past with the ‘Don-G’ in our side.”

He buckled up, preparing to write down the list of members for our group of three. I speak of ‘Don-G’ as a code for notes, if you want to know more, God-Pretender.

On the other way around, Tifanny still doesn’t get the motives behind our petty codes. I’ve told her on the play yesterday as well, but she might be not reading it as I suggested anyhow.

---

A week of another boring section of life has been ended. For the date, We are ready to enjoy an educational trip to Mandala Military Museum, one of the most to-do-list historical venue in our city. It holds many of the outdated missiles and weaponry from the war for independence of our country, a symbol of pride and patriotism to our ancestors on their day in the past. The school has provided us with exclusive ticket to the entire area of the museum, as they bought all the available locations for a day. For 720 dollars per kid in a year, it would be just a swim away for them to purchase it.

Yes, all the fun for ourselves, right? Not until this artifact moves out from our front.

“So, for the sharpened bamboo sticks, these bad boys has brought a ruckus to the Dutch. Pretty interesting, true?” The overly-attached tour guide has locked us down to the historical weapon’s chapter. She preferred to explain of the lame-duck sitting type of weapon than for the high-end form of machinery on the eastern side of exhibition. You know, the kinds of hand-mortar, bamboo sticks,slingers.... as if we’re more interested at the old stuff like she does.

“Any question?”

“Me-me!” yelled someone from behind. I can’t see who does, but I hope it’s all well.

“Yes, my dear?”

“Where’s the jumbo-jet? I wanna see one!”

Ah, if it’s jumbo-jet, that means Henry. He’s a maniac for planes, and the most enthusiastic person of this planet to visit the museum. He had read of dual-propeller plane of our country’s first ever personal jet, which rested here for eternity, and he’s so overjoyed when the plan of the trip was unfolded.

It’s a little bit sad that I can’t talk with him at this time, since we have our own assignment to work on. We have to note on the “hand-mortar” of the 1941, and how could it defeated the Dutch for overriding the need-to-be-observed city.

Yes, that’s the task, for us to discover what and how the ‘hand-mortar’ beats the company for good.

“Not yet, my dear-boy. Let me finished on this session first, then we move on to the next.” She explained. I can see a glint of hate from the corner of her eye.

“Now, let’s move on to the ‘Ki Jagur Cannon’. Please follow me!”

After a small distance of walking, we finally hit the book..... Darn it... I have to contain my laugh as we’re getting closer to the famed-mortar of the exhibition. The hand-details on the back of this cannon is awesome. The thumbs are sliding in-between the index and middle finger, forming a slur that I can’t imagine would be existed in the real world of warfare.

Bima pats me while we’re writing something for the task,“A no-thing, is it, Milord?” He said, smiling under the palm.

“No-thing, no-thing, indeed.”