"FWLS55" - читать интересную книгу автора (A Future We'd Like to See)

What did the man mean, religion? It was a puzzle. The
family name did get a hint of recognition, but not the kind that
would be given to the current master's daughter. I had started
to meditate on this when I was interrupted.

Now THIS was more like it. He wore a simple white exercise
outfit, complete with apron and markings of Wae Spat down his
side. The man moved with confidence, the kind of confidence only
a dojo owner could have. That and he entered from the EMPLOYEES
ONLY door.

"Dad!" I yelled, running forward to hug him. He yelped at
the hug, as I happily crushed him. Finally, I had found my long
lost father.

"Dad?" he wheezed, finally pushing me away. I quickly
examined him again.

He didn't look very much like father. The hair was black,
not brown, and he was oriental, not caucasian. Not father.

"Dad?" he repeated. "Wazoo, what's her name again?"

"Sarah Tatewaki," Wazoo said, appearing from behind the man.

"Sarah ANN," I corrected. "May I see my father, please?"

The man paused. "Have a seat," he said, motioning to the
chairs. I did so, and so did the other two, taking chairs from
across the room.

"Now," he said. "First, let me introduce myself. I'm Joey,
dojo owner and current master of Wae Spat, and this is my
assistant and ex-band bud Wazoo."

"Heyaz," Wazoo waved, producing his Wheat Treatie box
seemingly from thin air.

"Anyway, ummm... this is hard to explain..." Joey continued.

"Why isn't Jim Bob the current master? Did you defeat him
in combat?" I asked.

"Whoa! No. Pause. He's dead, but it was entirely by
natural causes--"

"DEAD?!" I asked, pulling out both spatulas and charging
across the room to face this liar. Joey panicked and ducked.