Draining Mr. Brainy
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“I’m Tiny.” “I absolutely do not think so.” “No, my name is tiny.” “That’s okay; just tell me what it is.” “No you don’t understand. My name is really tiny.” “How tiny can it be? Less than an alphabet, a coma, colon or a dot? Just spill it out.” “I am Tiny Dew Almond. My name is Tiny and I’m here for you.” Saying, she knocked his calmly spending arrogant life with her name, fame and a little madness. Tiny Dew Almond, a fresh graduate and a fresh in market investment banker to her own small firm which is smaller than her name, is a smart, lively and a good girl; with only one weakness. Helping. She loves helping people, almost madly. Zorion Nigel, an hotelier who is sly, arrogant, egoist, short tempered and definitely meekly mannered. What happens when one day he wakes up and finds himself helpless in the hands of an always helping girl? Not to forget her weakness that brings him to hell every minute of his existence. What happens when Tiny’s tiny efforts to help others lands Zorion into a pit of misfortune and abyss of revenge? What happens when a freely lived arrogant life of Zorion suddenly costs him his sanity and freedom all thanks to Tiny’s heavy burden on him? Who will drain whom? Who will win yet lose and who will lose yet win? Draining Mr. Brainy is romantically involved humorous journey of nonsensical revenge and help that doesn’t end lives but starts new ones.
Tiny Dew Almond Point of View
“- Meow meow eow eow Meoowww!”
“I know but this time we really can’t do anything.” One of the most annoying frames of sentence knocked me down.
“I know you are upset; feeling helpless, feel as if you lost your life path but my friend, this time it is really not in my hands.” I heard my best friend, Soul Silver Macquoid, as she sat down beside me with a heavy sigh and patted my back in assurance.
I can see how insincere she sounds right that moment. Those always dim eyes of hers are dimmer when she spoke.
“Why don’t you just let it be? Leave it, forget it. It is their loss if they don’t accept your good intentions.” This is why I love my elder cousin, Quince Grey Almond. He always knew just what to say at the right moment.
Pity, this time it is not working on me.
“Mew Meow Meow Meeewwoo.” I sang sadly as I leaned my head on Quince’s shoulder and snuggled into arms taking his shirt as my personal tissue to wipe my eyes and nose.
This is so frustrating. Why can’t people be more accepting?
Why can’t people behave like human?
Why can’t people just treat each other well?
Why, why can’t people recognize the good intentions of a little girl like me?
It all started a month ago when I got graduated from university as a proud aspiring investment advisor. Fresh graduate, fresh into the market, smelling and glittering like a freshly plucked plum – all sugary and mouth watering, I also aspired to be called one of the best business advisors of the century.
With hope, dreams and passion, I along with best friend Soul and two other classmates, started a small firm. Although our firm has only four employees which are us four friends, we had put all our savings, our knowledge, our intelligence and our luck into it.
With a goal to be the team to help Warren Buffet with his investments in future, I stepped into the society to be the best and not any less.
That was when it happened. A flash discovery while reading the current stocks in the market!
“But, on a serious note, you should stop your helping nature. Let your nature be polluted so we can breathe peacefully.” I was jerked back to present when I heard Quince mumble in somewhat defeated manner.
I looked up to glance at his face from his shoulder and found him patting my head affectionately, almost in resignation.
What can I do about it? I have a kind heart. If I see anyone that needs help, then I cannot help myself and just offer my help.
I just cannot see anyone helpless when I can help them overcome their vulnerability. I have a pure soul and great heart.
It’s not my fault that God has created me for years to perfection.
“I agree, look where your helping hand got us.” Soul remarked to which Quince nodded his head.
“It is alright to help a blind cross the road, a dog to find the right owner, a cat to descend back to the ground from a tree. Why would you put yourself on shelf for something impossible for you? You just go about offering help to those who doesn’t need any from you.”
“They don’t even know you and yet you go to them like a bull on a peace holiday.”
“What are you? A pigeon of peace? A Mother Teresa of twenty first century?”
I can see how Soul and Quince are in sync whenever they are giving me a lecture.
Soul despite her name suggests is pretty soulless with little to no consideration towards anyone other than those who are very close to her.
She is sometimes too bleak that I can see the light passing through her from the other side.
However, Soul is one good looking girl. She is not too short or too tall; she is in the middle with just the justified height.
Quince, on the other hand, is just like his name, a fruit of people’s eyes. Whenever and wherever he is, he is loved and adored by those around him. Personality wise; he is like a quince, sometimes sour but sometimes extremely sweet.
My cousin inherited our family genes which means, an okay looking guy. He is handsome to many girls but many think he is just ordinary looking. However he has a brain of an Einstein on periods. When it works, it works like a miracle and other times, he is just a pain that has no permanent cure.
In short, my cousin’s IQ and EQ are rich and flourishing while my best friend is still barren with EQ.
“Meow Meow Meow Mewwww? Meow!” I replied back haughtily and turned back to stuff my head inside his shoulder if possible.
“I know I know you are not at fault here. I’m sorry. I will not say so again.” He said quickly just when he saw a waitress was coming our way to take our order.
“It’s been fifteen minutes from the appointment time; do you think they will come?” Soul wondered out expressing her hesitation over waiting.
“I did try my best to get them to meet us. The person in question gave us his confirmation himself.” Quince answered back while he ordered an espresso for himself, a regular macchiato for Soul and a cloud cream macchiato for me paired with three pieces of cakes for each.
With enough encouragement from my best friend and my best cousin, I sat up tight and savored my coffee, hoping for the best result by the end of the evening.
“Meow?” I pouted at my cousin and best friend who assured me again about the ongoing incident.
An hour in the café, after have two more coffees and a bunch of other snacks, we finally saw the person we are to meet coming our way.
My eyes went bling bling when I saw the man shine like diamonds when the rays of setting sun fell on him. Background music went on in my mind as I heard a violin crying and drums fighting madly but together they introduced me to a new world of impromptu music.
Wow! He looks so handsome.
Is he the same man I saw on TV few days ago?
It is either the TV screens did not do any justice to show his real beauty or his beauty isn’t real in reality.
Either way, he looked way better in person.
Followed by another man of similar age right behind him, he strode to us as if a military robot is taking action against its programmer for putting a wrong skin on it.
I was sitting on the soft cushioned sofa in between Soul and Quince, he was standing right before me, with a stone like face, as if a sculpture he is from the time he took his first cry. The rays of setting sun along with the shadows of nearby window fell on his face making him look picturesque.
Only, he looked too much like a statue than a breathing person. That was when I wondered if he really breathes or not.
Normally a human has to take good amount of specific kind of air to live but since he looked more like a statue clothed in human skin, I don’t think he needs air to live.
Looking from below, my eyes zeroed on his nose for the slight moment to get confirmation on my theory. Realized, my theory is right. There is no movement on his nostrils and surprisingly, there is no hair inside his nose.
Another theory confirmed that he is a born statue. No nostril hair is like so non-human thing.
“Zorion Nigel.” He spoke quite commandingly in a low tone that scratched inside my ears relieving me from a handful of unwanted earwax.
Wow! His voice is so hot that even my earwax started to melt and drip out.
Again, his voice is so different from what I heard in the TV interviews. Either, the TV sound system is made in a graveyard or the real person is pretending to sound gravely cool.
Either way, his voice sounds great in live.
It was only when I felt a bruise worthy pinch on my hand and a surgery worthy thwack of elbow on my ribs that my eyes finally acknowledge the hand stretched out in front of me.
Jumping to my feet like a Humpty from Humpty Dumpty nursery poem, I immediately took the outstretched hand and shook it like we were under an attack from earth which is known as earthquake.
Seeing how his facial muscles finally moved a half inch and made an attempt to welcome the frown, I understood he is quite shaken by my presence.
“MEOWWWWWWW” Came out from my mouth and I immediately cleared my throat and managed to introduce myself properly.