Disdain - realmof_themuse
Set in thirty plus year verse, when James is about four.
He was the adopted son of the most imperious man in the world. That silent, mostly unsmiling, man commanded the obedience and respect of an army of security, and all who served him.
Ever hear the expression, "Little pitchers have big ears"? How about "apples falling from trees"?
James went through life emulating his beloved "Papa". If Hsu wore jeans, James wore jeans. If Hsu hated a certain pop tune, James pronounced it "cwap". James Hsu was probably the only child pretending to read the Wall Street Journal, while listening to opera. Wherever the man strode, the boy toddled, and watched. Tiny bow in hand, little plastic sword stuck in his belt, he was the tiny fan of the Hun. Carrying his own small briefcase, he drank from a sippy cup while Hsu sipped coffee from fine china, and learned Monopoly, Junior, at a very early age.
Unfortunately for young James, he lacked the height, experience and tactical skills of his idolized father. So when he pointed, commanded and barked orders, most of the men would either indulge him with humor, or ignore him completely. So James would follow behind Hsu, punctuating Hsu's commands and orders with a shake of a tiny finger, echoing his Papa, much to the amusement of his big brother.
The other impediment to James Hsu's ruling of the universe, or at least the area he was allowed to roam in, was a petite blonde who had very exacting standards in regards to little boys being polite, and kind, to all. Women. How was a little Hun supposed to slay the evil, command an army and make men tremble in fear if he was always having to bathe, nap, wipe his nose and clean up his toys? He was a PRINCE! Son of the closest thing to a GOD that he knew. Someday, when he was tall enough to ride a real horse, and old enough to cross the street without holding anyone's hand, James would have to charge into battle to defend what was theirs! Why couldn't Mama see that he was a warrior? Look at that scowly face! Hear the Hsu growl, and ROAR!
Someday, that woman would do what he said, or else!
It was a Friday, and the battle fought was over the dreaded, despised enemy known to every toddler in the universe. That's right...the evil that reduced them all to shrieking tantrum throwers. No barbarian, or junior barbarian, was safe from it.
The afternoon nap.
As Cody was doing the monthly household budget, James was to be escorted to his room by Orson. For whatever reason, the little Hsu reacted violently to the suggestion that he stop playing with his army men, and go off to Dreamland in the light of day. Instead, he began to beat the security man about the calves with his tiny plastic sword, as though he were trying to chop down a tall, muscular, tree. James' frustration grew, and so did the volume of his angry yelling at the security guard who had been by his side since the day he was born.
"Choo wi' obey me!" His scowl was so very Hsu-like, except, of course, for the tears of outrage in his eyes. 'I not tired! Choo 'top it! Choo kneel, an' I let choo wive!" James pointed his plastic scitmar at the carpet in front of him, and Orson stood there, bemused, and unsure of how to deal with a three foot tall Hun.
Fortunately, there was a wise Queen of the land, who took one look at the little Hun, and promptly popped his little behind, before lifting him up and depositing him into the hated, dreaded, "Think About It" chair. This device of toddler torture was located in a corner of the living room, facing a most uninteresting corner. The wise Queen set an egg timer for five minutes, and pronounced that the young Hun was sentenced to sit in that horrid chair for the entire length, until the bell tolled.
James pondered his choices. Some might ask, "What would Jesus do?". James Hsu only wondered what Hsu Danmei would do. Would his mighty Papa sit there and allow a woman to rule over him? No! So he got up, and walked towards the door leading outdoors, to freedom. He was promptly swooped up in her arms, and plopped back on the small red chair. The timer was reset, and he was admonished that he was to sit there, and not get up.
Right.
Fifty eight times, he got up. Fifty eight times, the wicked Queen swooped him up and set him back on his Princely place of punishment. No tears, no roars, no whines could move her cold heart. His fate rested in the hands of the most invincible of enemies...the mommy.
When Hsu Danmei walked in, after work, James was slumped over in his chair, sound asleep, his chubby cheeks streaked with dirt and tears. His mother sat in a nearby easy chair, eyes closed in exhaustion. As far as battles went, it might not equal the siege on Naissus. But it was a hard fought one of iron will versus height. Someday, he might see a different outcome, but for now, James learned that disdain and defiance was the right of those tall enough to get their own cereal. Until then, he would have to submit to a higher authority.
But someday...someday...they would all kneel.
He was the adopted son of the most imperious man in the world. That silent, mostly unsmiling, man commanded the obedience and respect of an army of security, and all who served him.
Ever hear the expression, "Little pitchers have big ears"? How about "apples falling from trees"?
James went through life emulating his beloved "Papa". If Hsu wore jeans, James wore jeans. If Hsu hated a certain pop tune, James pronounced it "cwap". James Hsu was probably the only child pretending to read the Wall Street Journal, while listening to opera. Wherever the man strode, the boy toddled, and watched. Tiny bow in hand, little plastic sword stuck in his belt, he was the tiny fan of the Hun. Carrying his own small briefcase, he drank from a sippy cup while Hsu sipped coffee from fine china, and learned Monopoly, Junior, at a very early age.
Unfortunately for young James, he lacked the height, experience and tactical skills of his idolized father. So when he pointed, commanded and barked orders, most of the men would either indulge him with humor, or ignore him completely. So James would follow behind Hsu, punctuating Hsu's commands and orders with a shake of a tiny finger, echoing his Papa, much to the amusement of his big brother.
The other impediment to James Hsu's ruling of the universe, or at least the area he was allowed to roam in, was a petite blonde who had very exacting standards in regards to little boys being polite, and kind, to all. Women. How was a little Hun supposed to slay the evil, command an army and make men tremble in fear if he was always having to bathe, nap, wipe his nose and clean up his toys? He was a PRINCE! Son of the closest thing to a GOD that he knew. Someday, when he was tall enough to ride a real horse, and old enough to cross the street without holding anyone's hand, James would have to charge into battle to defend what was theirs! Why couldn't Mama see that he was a warrior? Look at that scowly face! Hear the Hsu growl, and ROAR!
Someday, that woman would do what he said, or else!
It was a Friday, and the battle fought was over the dreaded, despised enemy known to every toddler in the universe. That's right...the evil that reduced them all to shrieking tantrum throwers. No barbarian, or junior barbarian, was safe from it.
The afternoon nap.
As Cody was doing the monthly household budget, James was to be escorted to his room by Orson. For whatever reason, the little Hsu reacted violently to the suggestion that he stop playing with his army men, and go off to Dreamland in the light of day. Instead, he began to beat the security man about the calves with his tiny plastic sword, as though he were trying to chop down a tall, muscular, tree. James' frustration grew, and so did the volume of his angry yelling at the security guard who had been by his side since the day he was born.
"Choo wi' obey me!" His scowl was so very Hsu-like, except, of course, for the tears of outrage in his eyes. 'I not tired! Choo 'top it! Choo kneel, an' I let choo wive!" James pointed his plastic scitmar at the carpet in front of him, and Orson stood there, bemused, and unsure of how to deal with a three foot tall Hun.
Fortunately, there was a wise Queen of the land, who took one look at the little Hun, and promptly popped his little behind, before lifting him up and depositing him into the hated, dreaded, "Think About It" chair. This device of toddler torture was located in a corner of the living room, facing a most uninteresting corner. The wise Queen set an egg timer for five minutes, and pronounced that the young Hun was sentenced to sit in that horrid chair for the entire length, until the bell tolled.
James pondered his choices. Some might ask, "What would Jesus do?". James Hsu only wondered what Hsu Danmei would do. Would his mighty Papa sit there and allow a woman to rule over him? No! So he got up, and walked towards the door leading outdoors, to freedom. He was promptly swooped up in her arms, and plopped back on the small red chair. The timer was reset, and he was admonished that he was to sit there, and not get up.
Right.
Fifty eight times, he got up. Fifty eight times, the wicked Queen swooped him up and set him back on his Princely place of punishment. No tears, no roars, no whines could move her cold heart. His fate rested in the hands of the most invincible of enemies...the mommy.
When Hsu Danmei walked in, after work, James was slumped over in his chair, sound asleep, his chubby cheeks streaked with dirt and tears. His mother sat in a nearby easy chair, eyes closed in exhaustion. As far as battles went, it might not equal the siege on Naissus. But it was a hard fought one of iron will versus height. Someday, he might see a different outcome, but for now, James learned that disdain and defiance was the right of those tall enough to get their own cereal. Until then, he would have to submit to a higher authority.
But someday...someday...they would all kneel.