“Oh, yes, yes my dear. Just by simply looking at it, my mouth is already drooling and my tongue can already sense how it tastes like. It is just so good. And so cheap, by the way,” Allen Mar explained. His eyes were like to rhimestones glued in replaced to his eyeballs, and they shimmered every single time he would take a pause to blink for a moment. There was never a second that Well took away his glance from him. He was struck in awe. He found it adorable to see Allen Mar forgetting about everything for a short time except for how his all-time favorite bowl of ramen tasted like and how his hungry soul craved for it. He was like a child. But an adorable, innocent little one. The design of the shop was like a traditional Japanese house but equipped with modern home decorations. “This place is cozy. The interior and the exterior is giving me the same vibes of my Dad’s cafeteria by the dock,” Well shared as he recalled how his father’s coffee shop back to their little town, CoastVille,
When the three guys secured a two hundred meter distance from the Noodle Bar, Well quickly took a few inhales of fresh air before he decided to tell them the very reason as to why he thought getting out of that place as soon as they could was the best thing to do.“For the record, I did not want to ruin your appetite,” Well started as soon as he was done sustaining enough air to get himself rid of shortness of breath. “It was never in my intention to keep you out for no reason. So, yeah, you got to hear me out.” Well stood straight after roughly ten seconds of bending down to puff. “Okay, okay. Calm down, will you? You act like you just had the most horrible experience in the world. What happened? What is it? Will you at least give us a heads up?”Binsent Anchorman said as he moved closer to Well who was now acting paranoid with all the unnecessary hand gestures and indistinct, gibberish words he spat out that only he, himself was able to hear. Binsent Anchorman gave Well another coup
Taxi was the key. If there was any way the three men would have reached Well’s hotel room, it was the taxi cab.As they jumped into the car, the only thing that occupied every single spaces in their minds was the blog. The fucking blog. Ho they will right the blog; who will make the blog; hat means would they need to generate the blog; how essential was the blog to their plans; and how to put the blog into great publicity where in everyone would notice it once it was done. Overall, although it might have sounded like an easy plan, it was actually a very difficult one to be executed. Ten minutes in the taxi and finally, one of them decided to open up a topic so the atmosphere inside the taxi cab would ease up and silence would be replaced with words. But before anything else, before Well decided to commnce such conversation, he whispered something in the ears of Binsent Anchorman first.“Is it okay to talk about the Noodle Bar’s alleged issue here in the car even if there is someone el
“Journalists being biased?” Binsent Anchorman asked. “I think that is a very strong, but surely very wrong accusation, sir. Journalists are not supposed to be biased. We are not allowed to pick which side of the story to choose. We are bound to tell all sides, express all sides, and present all sides if possible. That is why it is highly unethical for a journalist to pick a side and be biased. That is just a big no, no,” Binsent Anchorman explained as soon as he realized they were being judged by the taxicab driver with no profound evidence to support his claim.“That is the thing. They were not supposed to choose which side to be with, but they still did anyway. What do you call those bastards, then? Hypocrite, right? And apart from that, they also channeled their positions as journalists to spark a revolution, which was unnecessary by the way because the society that time did not need any changing. It was just them who was not contented to the way the government governed its people,
“What do you mean keep yourself out of the situation? Were you there during when the mass killing of the journalists happened?” Allen Mar asked. There was something that tried to hold back his voice for a second, but at the same time, his will to know things was stronger than any doubts and hesitations that was why he was able to push his words through. “I was not just there to witness how it happened. I was part of it. I was one of those dispatcher who was paid by the government to kill those journalists. It was not an easy job. Killing was never in my agenda. It was never in my to-do list. However, for the sake of money, and for the sake of helping the community getting rid of the pests trying to change the molding of the society, I took part in killing the journalists,” the taxi cab driver continued to explain. “I was a fucking sociopath that time. I was a selfish money-driven dispatcher that all I thought was cash and credit from the government. But despite being it, though, I can
“How are you doing so far?” Well asked the two men who were working beside him. They had been silent for quite a little while, doing nothing else other than working on with their cell phones and being the most busy people they could ever be for a day.“I think, if counted together, we have already made just enough,” Allen Mar answered as he looked at Binsent Anchorman and stared on the paper planted on the paper between the two of them. The paper contained user names of every single account they made for the fake review blog they made as part of their surveillance and investigation to the Noodle Bar fastfood restaurant. “Don’t you agree, sir?” he asked the twin who had been left speechless yet and had not talked ever since the conversation had started.Binsent Anchorman nodded as he stroked another name onto the list using the black pen he found on the corner of Well’s table. He counted all of the names. “One, two, three, four, five. . . . . . .” Hiis counting continued, but as he rea
“Okay, you guys, snack is ready!” Allen Mar yelled from the kitchen, as he went out of the kitchen door slowly and carefully, bringing with him a platter of his own version of carbonara. As soon as he arrived at the table where two mouths to feed had been waiting for him to put down the food, he slowly lowered his arm and placed the platter down the table. He went back to the kitchen for a quick moment, and then warned the boys not to start yet because he still had to get the pitcher containing an iced tea. When he returned, he had the pitcher with him along with the three drinking glasses.“That smells so nice, to be honest,” Binsent Anchorman said as he suddenly broke free from what he was doing to focus all his senses to the food being laid down in front of them. “I was not expecting that kind of aroma from a carbonara, actually. And what is that strong, earthly smell? Is that rosemary herb?” he asked.“Actually, that is oregano. Though I can’t blame you about mistaking it because
Allen Mar distributed the plates among them three, and then signaled them both that they may now start serving themselves pasta. “Please, suit yourselves. And be honest, I want a genuine review about whether my cooking is good or not. I am trying my best to channel the inner cook in me, and your reviews will be highly appreciated regardless of what it is,” he said as he poked both of the guys beside him through the elbows. “I am terrible at giving food reviews,” Well answered as he scooped some of the paste onto his plate. He did not brim it full. As a matter of fact, he only got so little that it would not even reach four to rive strokes of fork. But nontheless, it did not mean he did not want to taste his new friend’s cooking. After getting some of the paste, Well twirled his fork through it and some strands of it got caught between the spaces of the fork. He then shot it into his mouth, swiftly but carefully. “Oh, God. This is actually good. And oh! Look at that oregano extract! It