The Klonky Moment Passes

This is the final Sunday of the challenge!

What, challenge, you say? Good grief, where have you been?! Nicky and Mike over at We Work For Cheese are running a writing challenge during February.

It’s not too late to join in.

But run if you can.

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Max brings the best folks home for dinner.

It’s last night. I return home as twilight is giving way to chilly dark, laden down with bags from the supermarket. I shout a welcome as I slam the front door, but no reply comes. There are faint voices from the lounge though and, stepping through from the hallway, I find Max standing by the fire with King an Oriental gentleman.

Roth! roars Max, Come in, join us, join us! He’s looking uncommonly smart, with long trousers and everything. King looks as magnificent as ever in his three-piece suit, and his vibrant striped necktie looks suspiciously familiar.

The third of their party, whose long robes and good looks suggest Chinese, detaches himself from the group and extends an aged hand.

Mr. Roth. It’s a pleasure to meet you. We shake hands. My name is Kong Qiu; thank you for welcoming me into your home.

His hand is warm and kind, and I find myself smiling despite my usual reticence with newcomers. It’s my pleasure, Mr. Kong. I indicate Max and King as they head through to the kitchen, presumably to check in on the food I can smell cooking. Are you a diplomat, like Mr. King?

He nods and offers a crookedly cryptic smile. I am an ambassador, of sorts, yes. In my home land, I am known as Kong Fuzi, he frowns momentarily, by those with a far too-high opinion of me.

Humility is endless, I say, pulling the phrase from somewhere; it sounds awkward and pretentious. I scratch my head, searching for conversation at my greying roots. His name sounds familiar; has he been in the news? Kong Fuzi? Does that mean Master Kong? Nope, that still sounds awkward, however correct it is. But the Oriental nods, amused, and the klonky moment passes.

Quite so.

So, how do you come to be here with Max and King today? King doesn’t bring many guests home. I consider why this is, and add thoughtfully, He’s something of a loose cannon in the diplomatic world, I’m told.

Kong nods and checks we are alone.

If I am walking with two other men, each of them will serve as my teacher. He moves to the lounge door and closes it before continuing in a lower tone, I will pick out the good points of the one and imitate them, and the bad points of the other and correct them in myself. He smiles warmly, with a mischievous glint in his eye.

I smile, remembering the phrase. I learned it at my grandmother’s Juno’s knee. She was something of a diplomat to China, and a very wise lady.

That's Confucius. No intellectual self-aggrandisement is intended. Okay, perhaps a little educational vanity is showing. I receive a small nod of acknowledgement. Keen to move along, I indicate the generally untidy state of the lounge. I wish I’d known you were all coming, I’d have straightened the place up a bit.

This received a quiet shake of the head. This feels like a home, Mr. Roth, he shrugs reflectively, Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it.

More Confucianism. Curious. Again, his name nags at me.

But there is no time to think. The lounge doors bursts open, and an ebullient Max fills the space.

Dinner. Is. Served!

I wave our philosophical guest through ahead of me, and we enter a dining room that is bursting with delicious smells. The table groans with dishes and lidded wicker containers. It looks amazing, though I note that all of the food is Chinese. And vegetarian.

My tummy grumbles its hunger and disappointment.

Well, this all looks magnificent, I say, scratching my ear reflectively, but I kind’ve had my heart set on a big meaty pizza tonight.

Kong Fuzi chuckles kindly, and slaps me on the back. You’re a schmuck, Roth.

My self-effacing laughter joins his. Did Confucius say that, too?

His eyes catch mine in flight, and hold them easily. He leans closer, the same mischievous smile playing about his lips.

You bet your ass I did.

Max brings the best folks home for dinner.

And sometimes, they come a very long way.


Indigo

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