International-gad-about, arms trader, drug king pin, war criminal, cattle rustler, eikaiwa teacher. What do all these swarthy characters have in common? They're all on the run and- for a fist full of noodles, they'll work for you.
I got off the train in Keisei Okubo and looked around. Another town. Another convenience store. Another eikaiwa school.
The schedule was hard, 9 classes in 10 hours, most of them were kids classes, too. Not junior high school kids, either. Tiny little kids who crawled about on a carpet and counted blocks and identified colours. This was the kind of stuff that demanded a pro. I was that pro.
I was known as "The Banker" because of my suits. After three years at GEOS the only clothes I had other than jeans and T-shirts were suits. I knew fully well how ridiculous I looked sitting on the floor with these babies in my suit. There wasn't much I could do about it, being broke at the time.
The suits usually intimidated the kiddies but sometimes things got out of hand. I had been stabbed twice (mechanical pencils both times. I've got a real beaut of a war wound on my right forearm), spat at (gotta love those kids in Tsuga), peed on (poor kid couldn't hold on any longer and whizzed on my feet) and kicked in the balls four times (once right in front of the mother who said her son liked me). I was still in the game, though, determined to fulfill my lifelong ambition of becoming a raconteur of unknown means.
It was a particularly cold day in January when my maverick side showed itself. I had a class of six eight year olds. We were just finishing up the finer points of "This/That/These/Those" when I noticed the old clock on the wall. Ten minutes to spare and a lesson thoroughly finished. Nothing left to do but reward the kids with a game of Uno.
Uno is a game for madmen and children. I felt right at home. The rules of the game seem to change from prefecture to prefecture in Japan. Some places allow someone to use two Reverse cards at the same time, other places frown on that sort of thing. Some places allow you to end a game on a Draw Two card while in others this will result in a child running and screaming for Mama. In Keisei Okubo, we were deep in Chiba. Chiba rules are the most slippery of the lot but I had mastered them in my brief two years. I carried a worn pack of Uno cards in my backpack.
With a toothpick dangling lazily from my mouth, I began to deal.
The local hotshot was Hiroshi Tanabe. He was eight, chubby, had a pig shave hair cut, wore thick glasses, and was always wearing shorts. The coldest day of the year would find Hiroshi wearing his shorts. His attire was like a big fat middle finger flung in the faces of the elements as if to say, "Oh yeah? Is that all you got?! C'mon, make it cold out here! I dare ya! I double dare ya! I'm too genki to feel your cold!"
The kid was tough. He was also the local Uno shark.
The game began. Uno cards were slapped down, colours called, directions changed and Draw Two's dealt. I noticed right away that the dreaded Draw Fours weren't anywhere to be seen. I looked at Hiroshi and he seemed to be smiling at me. I knew he was loading up on Wild Draw Fours and saving them for me.
The other players declared "Uno!" and dropped out of the game one by one. Soon, it was just me and my bespectacled menace. I knew the kid had some kind of sadistic torture in mind for me because all the other kids were looking over his shoulder and gasping in mock pain.
I was ready. I had collected a mighty arsenal of Wild Draw Fours myself. What made me different from him was that I didn't let the spectators view my hand. I kept my cards close to me and never smiled, never laughed, never spoke, never broke my steely gaze on my worthy opponent.
Perspiration started to gather on his upper lip. It beaded up on his brow and rolled down his cheek. The only sound was that of the train crossing guard and the steady ticking of the clock. It was almost noon.
He made his move. He coolly laid down a Draw Two, toying with my emotions. He thought I'd be relieved to see such a benign card, I'm sure. I matched his Draw Two with one of my own. He placed another Draw Two calmly on top of mine. I matched that as well. The spectators were whispering amongst themselves.
Hiroshi looked at me nervously. Someone's chair almost tipped over. He re-arranged the cards he held and picked up eight more.
I kept my face void of expression. Someone said, "Do it, Hiroshi, finish the outsider off."
Hiroshi laid down a Wild Draw Four, "Yellow.". The spectators smiled at me. I put a Wild Draw Four on top of his, "Blue." He put a Wild Draw Four on top of mine and said, "Green." His glasses were sliding down his nose and his hand shook almost imperceptibly. I was down to two cards. I slowly put down one more Wild Draw Four and said, "Red. Uno."
The other players around the table shrieked in disbelief. Hiroshi looked to his school bag on the floor then up at the clock.
"Hai! Time's up!" he said. He threw his cards down, leapt out of his chair, grabbed his school bag and ran for the door. I sat motionless as the other kids tore out of the classroom after Hiroshi. They ran to the lobby and the candy jar full of treats waiting for them at the end of every class. I gathered up the cards and put them in my backpack.
Another town. Another convenience store. Another game of Uno.
Sensei!
(sung to the tune of Rawhide)
Talking talking talking,
Talking, talking, talking,
Keep them students talking, sensei!
Don't try to understand 'em,
Just play the tape at random,
Soon you'll be living high and wide.
My heart's calculating,
A six pack will be waiting,
Be waiting at the end of the line.
Chris
If you really want to know about the rules of UNO, go to:
www.centralconnector.com/GAMES/unorules.html