5b

Isaiah was waving his cane around like a sword, his voice getting louder with every swipe he took. "I just don't understand it. You have got to be one of the brightest I've ever seen and yet, you're willing to throw it all away! What is wrong with you, that you have to spit on everything that's given to you?"

Simon yawned, which infuriated Isaiah more; Barbara could tell by how wide the arcs in his swing was. "You listen to me! Don't you remember your teachings? Honor your father and mother! Is this how you honor your mother, how you honor me? No, you disgrace me! And your mother!"

At this, Simon took offense. "Mother understands why I needn't bother! Peh, the way you're acting, this is Oxford. Wake up and look around, old man. This isn't Shanghai. This is Macau. And you cannot call that school, a university! Why should I try? I might as well go to the racetrack!"

"The racetrack! I knew it! I knew you were up to no good. Do you know what God thinks of gambling?" Isaiah was almost spitting his words out.

"Do you know, old man," Simon said slowly, pointing to Isaiah's brandished cane, "how that was paid for? Do you really think Mother says no when I give her part of my winnings? She says, 'Thank you, Son,' then goes out and buys you special spices so you can have your chili dishes. Simon leaned into his father's face, "Why don't you say, 'Thank you?'"

Immediately, a clang rang out as the cane dropped onto the tiled floor followed by an echoing smack. Barbara looked up to see Simon's aghast face as he clutched his left cheek. Her father was beckoning to her brother, "Come on closer, so I can get the other cheek, son."

Simon spat at the ground and left the house.

Sighing heavily, Isaiah leaned over to pick up his cane, but it had skittered just out of his reach. Barbara ran over to help him. "Obedient daughter," Isaiah muttered absently. Was it her imagination or did her father just sprout some white hair? It was hard to tell against the pale skin. Her father's gaze landed on her and his eyes focused. "So, youngest daughter of mine. What shall we do about this brother of yours? It seems he needs a challenge. Where shall he go?"

"Well, most of our family went to America. Maybe they can help?"

"I've tried. It seems most don't want to associate with the principal of a school that printed Communist propaganda. Strange, huh?" Isaiah's eyes twinkled at his daughter. She giggled, happy to see some life stirring in her father again. Perhaps it took Simon making him this mad to appreciate life again?

"Well, you know who else is in America? My godparents."

"Oh yes! Victor and Samantha. Why don't you write them and see," here, Isaiah's tone turned mocking, "if they're up to handling an ill-tempered genius?"

Simon's fate was sealed the second Barbara put pen to paper.

[509 words]