My Name Is Not William, Part 1 by David Kendall, Jr.

"William, you fat bitch, mosey on over."

What makes this situation precarious is I am not William, and the man who has clearly singled me out in this very public place has no room to talk. Especially with this large man squatting about. But, to have the audacity to put together 'you fat bitch' and 'mosey' in the same sentence deserves my complete attention.

I guess what's so shocking about all this is I'm quite shy. To have this troll of a man just belt out this phrase is utterly shocking. I would never, NEVER be able to say something like that. To have the same gall as this man when it comes to...say...the ladies. Imagine swirling into your favorite watering hole, finding the first tasty snack cake propped on a bar stool and bellowing, "You fat bitch, mosey on over." Not only would that be shocking, but smooth as hell. Somehow I can't bring myself to do this. Maybe it's because I was taught manners as a child.

Back to the glandular man and his desire to call me William. He seems very intent to make me his William. Any other time I would just say, "Sorry, wrong person." Actually, I probably wouldn't say anything at all. I would just walk away with my head down. For whatever reason, this day I decide to play along. I walk right up to him and say, "Yes?"

His thick brow crinkles in puzzlement, "You're not William."

"No, no. No, I'm not."

"Why did you come over?" At this point, I notice a burr or twig caught in his curly hair. The wind gusts trapped between the tall buildings have tied up his hair in a messy package complete with remnants of nature. I also notice a thick track mark starting at the corner of his mouth curling down, up, and out. White from dried spit. He must have been standing in this square for awhile. No doubt to find this elusive William.

"If someone calls me 'fat bitch,' it usually means business."

He looks stunned I used the words 'fat bitch' in front of him. "Well, you're not William."

"I know, I think we covered that." I'm surprised by my bitchiness.

"Look, Jack. I thought you were William. So just...just go away."

I'm feeling lucky, let me test this guy. "My name is not Jack."

"Listen ASS-HOLE, beat it." On 'ass,' his lower crotch fat gives a jiggle as he steps forward. By 'hole,' the seismic wave makes his man boobs bounce. The energy wave must have made its way to his head, since after the shock wave was through he starting grabbing at the piece of tree at the top of his head. Maybe laughing at this point was not a good idea. I begin to chuckle.

A diminutive man of what I can assume of Chinese descent marches over and starts to curse out this large man. I say I assume he is Chinese since we are standing in the middle of a public square in Chinatown. Plus, he's wearing a bib that reads, "Chinatown Neighborhood Association." I'm willing to make this assumption.

At this point, I decide to make my escape to the video store I was actually trying to go to. As I step away with large, quick steps up the hill, I look back at a fat man, twig still lodged in his curly nest, staring straight at me while a small Asian man, who barely starts at the fat man's
chin, screams and waves his finger upwards. I feel bad for not thanking this man for intervening on my behalf, but I think he'll understand. So much for my fleeting spine.

There is nothing like an Asian video store. There is porn right next to anime, action films right next to the VCD bootlegs. I love it. Plus, this is the only place I can find martial arts movies that haven't been tainted by bad dubbing. I don't care what that guy is saying, I want to see him chop another guy's head off with his hand. Now that's entertainment.

Most of the videotapes and DVDs have no English titles, but my pure gut instinct has never led me astray. One such movie (I still have no idea what the title is) involves this man-boob inflicted boy with facial features like a pig who travels around with this little girl dressed up like a Shoalin monk. The part where they fight the evil warlord at the end is simply incredible. His arms shoot out like giant tubes in the best stop motion sequence I've ever seen.

"William?" A small woman peering up from a DVD display case looks intently at me. Her eyes are very white as they peer from behind her dark hair.

"No, I'm not William," I reply flatly. "Idiot," I think to myself, "don't be so rude, she's cute."

"Oh, sorry, you... you look like somebody." The young woman flashes a nervous but sweet smile and continues to shop for movies.

Now, I'm curious. Is there someone out there named William who actually looks like me? "Excuse me, miss?" She looks at me startled. Eyes now whiter and deer like. I don't know if she's giving me this look because she's talking to me. I don't know if it has something to do with the fact she thought I was this William. The fact that she's holding a box with three men doing something wholly unnatural to a woman isn't helping any I'm sure. That woman on the box is about her size...

She clears her throat and interrupts my thought process. "Yes?" The case in her hand is quickly returned to its spot.

Then it hits me: this is the first girl I've talked in probably four months. She's hot, and she's looking at porn. Of course, I panic. "Hi, ah. Who is, umm... who is William?"

"What?"

"William? You said William, right?"

"Yeah."

"Umm, well, you're the second person who's called me William in like, ah umm, I don't know..."

"Well, sorry, I didn't mean..." She's fingering with the cases with in reach as she talks.

"No, no, it's fine. I'm just curious. Who's William?"

"You know, I... I got to go. Sorry." The small woman briskly heads to the door. As I ponder what just happened in my head, I'm the one now getting my share of cursing from a small Asian man. The fact that I scared away a customer, especially a pretty one, I'm sure didn't meet this employee's approval. I understand. For as much as I wanted to buy some Kung Fu movie, I just can't focus. Dammit, she was looking at porn. That's awesome.

I duck out of the store with a screaming man at my back, much like my large spittle counterpart (who's probably still wandering the square). I walk the long way to the bus stop just to avoid that very square. As I duck through side streets and alleyways, it enters my mind once again: William. Packing myself in the throng to find one inch of rail support, the bus rocks to its feet and starts the journey home.