Alak was busy preparing noodles at his street foodstall in Chiang Mai when a large black car with black windows drove slowly past. 'It's the local gang's new boss,' said one of his regular customers. 'People say he has returned after twenty years in Bangkok. Very rich and very cruel, so I heard. We should all keep out of his way.'
Ten minutes later the car came back. It stopped. From the
front seat came a young hoodlum.
He walked up to Alak and said, 'The boss wants a
bowl of noodles.'
'Yes sir. Of course sir.' Said Alak, avoiding
eye contact
with the
young man.' He served a bowl of steaming
noodles which was passed
through the rear window to the boss. Two minutes later the young
gangster handed the bowl back to Alak and said, 'The boss thinks
your noodles are the worst in Thailand. What's your name?'
'Sir, my name is Alak. Please tell your boss that I am very sorry, and
of course, there is no
charge for the noodles.'
The young gangster
got back in the black car, and drove away. 'I'm glad
I'm
not in
your shoes my friend,' Alak's customer said, as he quickly
stood up and walked away.
Alak was in a lot of trouble. The local mafia boss now knew his name for a bad reason. And to make matters worse, Alak was worried about his twin sister. How could he tell her what had happened? He turned off his gas stove, poured away the boiled water, and packed up his things. He felt so unhappy as he pushed his hawker stall back to the small house that he shared with his sister Lek. She was already sleeping when he returned. He sat by her bed and gently woke her up. 'Something happened that I think you should know,' he said, 'It concerns you, Lek.'