Lugia Tamer
< Is friggin awesome
As I was reading some of the fics here, I remembered I had a short story I had writen a while ago that was hidden somwhere in the maze of files on my computer, so I posted it.
I originally wrote this for my english class, and my teacher liked it, but meh.
-------------
Reluctantly, I knocked on the door of our new next door neighbor. He was pretty old, maybe in his 70’s or 80’s. The man also didn’t seem to be married so my mom said that a little neighborly hospitality would be good for him. I don’t know why she did not come over there herself, I guess she wanted the dirty work done by someone else.
The reason I seem so bitter at the thought of welcoming an old man to our street is that I have a problem with shyness, a big problem. What would I say anyway? “Welcome to our street, here’s a basket of muffins my mom made you, bye?” I think that’s exactly what I would say.
So I waited for the man to answer the door. I heard some bumping around inside so I knew he wasn’t completely dead. He answered the door with a huge grin on his face, “Hello!” he said, “It’s so nice to have a visitor over already, come on in!”
My worst fear had been realized, I would actually have to go inside and talk with him. I don’t like talking to people, especially to people I don’t know. But I had to go inside.
I had been in this house previously, when the neighbors before lived here. The old man gestured for me to sit down, “Where do you live?” he asked.
“Just across the street,” I said.
“Are those muffins?” he asked as I was sitting down.
“Oh, uh, yes. My mom made them for you.” I said, having completely forgoten about them.
“That’s sweet of her,” said the old man, “You can set them down there by the couch.”
Then the old man seemed to forget about me for a bit. He went about moving the boxes about the house until I finally said, “Do you need any help?”
“Sure, do you mind moving these boxes to my bedroom?” And he pointed out the boxes he wanted moved.
I picked up one of the boxes and he did the same, and I followed him upstairs. As we moved boxes, he asked me questions like what school I went to, how old I was, questions that people would normally ask.
Around the time I was getting to leave, I mentioned to him how I like to play video games. “Video games? I have quite a few video games from my childhood you might like, though I suppose they would be pretty old by today’s standards.”
“What kind of games are they?” I asked.
“You know, Mario and the like.”
“Where are they, can we get them out?”
“I don’t think I have them with me at the moment, I think they are still at my other house. The moving van should have them here tomorrow.”
***
The next day after school, I was knocking on the old man’s door, excited to see what kind of video games he had. Coming over to his house the other day wasn’t a complete waste of time, I told myself.
“Oh, hello again, Sam!” said the old man cheerfully, “I’ve gotten my old video games out, lets see if any of them interest you.”
As I walked in, I noticed that he had already set the games out on the floor, also that he had somehow managed to move all the boxes out of the room. I sat down on the couch waiting for him to show me how they work.
“Now let me show you how these work.” he said. The old man picked up one of the controllers and handed it to me, he took the other. These games were old; they still had wires so he had to hook the game up to a wireless adapter just so it would work with his TV. We played together for maybe an hour; the old man was good but my natural savvy for video games proved too much for him, though he still beat me at the puzzle games.
Eventually the old man got tired and fell to sleep, like old people do. And eventually I got tired of the games and was wondering if he had any more. I didn’t want to wake him up or admit that I found his games boring. I thought to look for them myself.
Having been in the house before, I knew where all the nooks and crannies were. I check in closets rooms and shelves, hoping for a payload of other games. I didn’t find anything, and when I saw that the old man was still asleep, I checked the basement.
There were still tons of boxes down here. I guess he put them there to get the house cleaned up without having to unpack everything, kind of how I shove everything under my bed.
There was so much dust down here that I could see the old man’s footprints from when he was moving things. I walked through the maze of boxes checking each one as I passed. Most of the boxes were filled with books and old clothes, but one I found to be particularly interesting.
Inside the box was a framed piece of news paper with a picture of the old man on the front page. The article was titled “Elderly Scientist Discovers Elixir of Life!” It talked about how the old man had made a drug that apparently stops the aging process and allows the user to live forever.
I was stunned. I had no idea that the old man was such a great scientist, but I had never heard of this so called Elixir of Life. If really lets people live forever, I would think everybody would have taken it.
But there was something wrong with this newspaper, it was dated in 2007, that was a long time ago, and the picture of the old man looks exactly the same as he does today. And the paper was yellow as if it was old to. How is this possible?
I looked through the box some more, having completely forgotten about looking for more old video games. The box was filled with newspapers talking about the old man.
But the newspaper on the bottom of the box wasn’t praising the old man. It claimed that the old man was a fraud, that he didn’t make anything and that the Elixir of Life did not exist.
I looked for more clues in other boxes, but to no avail. I decided I should confront the old man, he would definitely tell me more about this.
“Hey, old man, what’s this?” I said upstairs, loudly, shoving the newspaper in his hands.
“Huh, what…” said the old man groggily.
“What’s this Elixir of Life?”
“Huh…” he said, still half asleep. But then he snapped out of it, “Where did you find this?!”
“In the basement,” I said.
He curled up the newspaper quickly, “You shouldn’t be going through other peoples’ things!”
“Just tell me what it is.”
“It’s none of your business; I think you should go home!”
“I already read through it, it says you’re some sort of great scientist, but the newspaper is from 2007, how old are you?”
The old man looked at the newspaper and sighed, “I suppose it’s no use,” He paused for a second and then said, “It is true that I was a scientist back in the day, and I did discover this pill, and it does do what it says.”
“But in another newspaper it says that you were a fraud.” I said
“That’s not true; I worked on the pill for many years until it all paid off. But then the government and people got mad and said it was not natural, they made the newspapers publish that and make me look like a criminal. Like I was just somebody out for attention.”
He paused and then said, “I took the pills, fearing death. That is why I have not changed in so many years.”
I was silent. I wouldn’t think anything like this was possible. It was almost like something from a fairy tale. “So how long will you live?” I asked, not being able to think of anything else to say.
“I suppose I could live forever, I can’t die from natural causes.” Said the old man, matter-of-factly. There was another long pause and then, “This is a big thing to be telling you, I’m sure. And I probably shouldn’t, but I could offer some of the pills to you if you want.”
“What!?” I said astonished.
“Well, think about it you could live forever, you’d be like a god! I never have to worry about getting sick or anything like that, it’s a great life!” This burst of energy from the old man was surprising, and I questioned for a moment the old man’s sanity. I started to head for the door.
“What are you doing, you do want them don’t you!?” he said, almost angrily.
“I-I’ll think about it…” And I opened the door and ran from the old man’s house as fast as I could.
“You’re making a mistake!” yelled the old man from his door step.
***
About a month later the old man moved again. But this time I did not help him with his boxes. My mom was puzzled why someone so old could stand to move twice so quickly, I never told her what had happened.
I had told myself the old man was crazy, but I don’t think that is entirely true.
I originally wrote this for my english class, and my teacher liked it, but meh.
-------------
Reluctantly, I knocked on the door of our new next door neighbor. He was pretty old, maybe in his 70’s or 80’s. The man also didn’t seem to be married so my mom said that a little neighborly hospitality would be good for him. I don’t know why she did not come over there herself, I guess she wanted the dirty work done by someone else.
The reason I seem so bitter at the thought of welcoming an old man to our street is that I have a problem with shyness, a big problem. What would I say anyway? “Welcome to our street, here’s a basket of muffins my mom made you, bye?” I think that’s exactly what I would say.
So I waited for the man to answer the door. I heard some bumping around inside so I knew he wasn’t completely dead. He answered the door with a huge grin on his face, “Hello!” he said, “It’s so nice to have a visitor over already, come on in!”
My worst fear had been realized, I would actually have to go inside and talk with him. I don’t like talking to people, especially to people I don’t know. But I had to go inside.
I had been in this house previously, when the neighbors before lived here. The old man gestured for me to sit down, “Where do you live?” he asked.
“Just across the street,” I said.
“Are those muffins?” he asked as I was sitting down.
“Oh, uh, yes. My mom made them for you.” I said, having completely forgoten about them.
“That’s sweet of her,” said the old man, “You can set them down there by the couch.”
Then the old man seemed to forget about me for a bit. He went about moving the boxes about the house until I finally said, “Do you need any help?”
“Sure, do you mind moving these boxes to my bedroom?” And he pointed out the boxes he wanted moved.
I picked up one of the boxes and he did the same, and I followed him upstairs. As we moved boxes, he asked me questions like what school I went to, how old I was, questions that people would normally ask.
Around the time I was getting to leave, I mentioned to him how I like to play video games. “Video games? I have quite a few video games from my childhood you might like, though I suppose they would be pretty old by today’s standards.”
“What kind of games are they?” I asked.
“You know, Mario and the like.”
“Where are they, can we get them out?”
“I don’t think I have them with me at the moment, I think they are still at my other house. The moving van should have them here tomorrow.”
***
The next day after school, I was knocking on the old man’s door, excited to see what kind of video games he had. Coming over to his house the other day wasn’t a complete waste of time, I told myself.
“Oh, hello again, Sam!” said the old man cheerfully, “I’ve gotten my old video games out, lets see if any of them interest you.”
As I walked in, I noticed that he had already set the games out on the floor, also that he had somehow managed to move all the boxes out of the room. I sat down on the couch waiting for him to show me how they work.
“Now let me show you how these work.” he said. The old man picked up one of the controllers and handed it to me, he took the other. These games were old; they still had wires so he had to hook the game up to a wireless adapter just so it would work with his TV. We played together for maybe an hour; the old man was good but my natural savvy for video games proved too much for him, though he still beat me at the puzzle games.
Eventually the old man got tired and fell to sleep, like old people do. And eventually I got tired of the games and was wondering if he had any more. I didn’t want to wake him up or admit that I found his games boring. I thought to look for them myself.
Having been in the house before, I knew where all the nooks and crannies were. I check in closets rooms and shelves, hoping for a payload of other games. I didn’t find anything, and when I saw that the old man was still asleep, I checked the basement.
There were still tons of boxes down here. I guess he put them there to get the house cleaned up without having to unpack everything, kind of how I shove everything under my bed.
There was so much dust down here that I could see the old man’s footprints from when he was moving things. I walked through the maze of boxes checking each one as I passed. Most of the boxes were filled with books and old clothes, but one I found to be particularly interesting.
Inside the box was a framed piece of news paper with a picture of the old man on the front page. The article was titled “Elderly Scientist Discovers Elixir of Life!” It talked about how the old man had made a drug that apparently stops the aging process and allows the user to live forever.
I was stunned. I had no idea that the old man was such a great scientist, but I had never heard of this so called Elixir of Life. If really lets people live forever, I would think everybody would have taken it.
But there was something wrong with this newspaper, it was dated in 2007, that was a long time ago, and the picture of the old man looks exactly the same as he does today. And the paper was yellow as if it was old to. How is this possible?
I looked through the box some more, having completely forgotten about looking for more old video games. The box was filled with newspapers talking about the old man.
But the newspaper on the bottom of the box wasn’t praising the old man. It claimed that the old man was a fraud, that he didn’t make anything and that the Elixir of Life did not exist.
I looked for more clues in other boxes, but to no avail. I decided I should confront the old man, he would definitely tell me more about this.
“Hey, old man, what’s this?” I said upstairs, loudly, shoving the newspaper in his hands.
“Huh, what…” said the old man groggily.
“What’s this Elixir of Life?”
“Huh…” he said, still half asleep. But then he snapped out of it, “Where did you find this?!”
“In the basement,” I said.
He curled up the newspaper quickly, “You shouldn’t be going through other peoples’ things!”
“Just tell me what it is.”
“It’s none of your business; I think you should go home!”
“I already read through it, it says you’re some sort of great scientist, but the newspaper is from 2007, how old are you?”
The old man looked at the newspaper and sighed, “I suppose it’s no use,” He paused for a second and then said, “It is true that I was a scientist back in the day, and I did discover this pill, and it does do what it says.”
“But in another newspaper it says that you were a fraud.” I said
“That’s not true; I worked on the pill for many years until it all paid off. But then the government and people got mad and said it was not natural, they made the newspapers publish that and make me look like a criminal. Like I was just somebody out for attention.”
He paused and then said, “I took the pills, fearing death. That is why I have not changed in so many years.”
I was silent. I wouldn’t think anything like this was possible. It was almost like something from a fairy tale. “So how long will you live?” I asked, not being able to think of anything else to say.
“I suppose I could live forever, I can’t die from natural causes.” Said the old man, matter-of-factly. There was another long pause and then, “This is a big thing to be telling you, I’m sure. And I probably shouldn’t, but I could offer some of the pills to you if you want.”
“What!?” I said astonished.
“Well, think about it you could live forever, you’d be like a god! I never have to worry about getting sick or anything like that, it’s a great life!” This burst of energy from the old man was surprising, and I questioned for a moment the old man’s sanity. I started to head for the door.
“What are you doing, you do want them don’t you!?” he said, almost angrily.
“I-I’ll think about it…” And I opened the door and ran from the old man’s house as fast as I could.
“You’re making a mistake!” yelled the old man from his door step.
***
About a month later the old man moved again. But this time I did not help him with his boxes. My mom was puzzled why someone so old could stand to move twice so quickly, I never told her what had happened.
I had told myself the old man was crazy, but I don’t think that is entirely true.