Write your own Script

   “What day is it?” Joseph asked.
   “It’s my birthday!” Master Gooway responded smiling down at Joseph.
   “Wait!” Joseph suddenly became concerned, “Is it your sixtieth birthday?”
   “Yep!” Gooway’s smile didn’t flinch.
   “Didn’t you say you would die the day you turned sixty?” Joseph asked.
   Master Gooway stared at Joseph then looked up at the cars passing by, “I want to go get a cake.” he finally said. So they went to get a cake.
   Mr. Po?! I didn’t know you worked at the cake store Joseph exclaimed.
   “I may look like just another innocent old man but there are a lot of things you don’t know about me,” Mr. Po responded. Silence followed.
    Then a lady walking by, paused, and said to the trio, “you guys are the cutest looking family.”
    Joseph, confused, started to say, “we’re not rela-”
    Master Gooway cut him off, “Mr. Po you should come to the park with us.” So they went to the park.
    “I thought you were going to die on your sixtieth birthday Master Gooway,” Joseph anxiously said mid-bite.
    “I thought I was too but then,” he paused to look at Mr. Po, “I realized I was not chained to my family history. I write my own script.”

The Easy Way

“You could use your wish to find your kid!,” Joseph rapidly spat out.

Master Gooway looked up at the green light, then into Joseph’s innocent eyes, then back at the light. After several quiet moments while everyone else on the roof awaited his response Gooway closed his eyes, let out a soft sigh, and began to walk towards the exit.

“What are you doing?!” Joseph ran to intercept his walk away but Master Gooway continued his as if he wasn’t there. At the last second Joseph got out of his way.

Hand on the doorknob Master Gooway finally pauses, “It’s too easy.”

On his way down the stairs he sees Mr. Po, the old man Joseph is always talking about caring for. He gives Gooway a nod as he walks by.

A Book about Praying Mantises

“Hey kid, put your book away and listen, I’m talking up here,” Master Gooway wasn’t listening to Ryan Lochte’s TEDTalk but Ryan's sudden break knocked him out of thinking about finding his son.

Master Gooway followed Ryan’s gaze to see that the reader was sitting directly to his right, still reading his book, completely oblivious.

“Hey kid-,” Ryan started but was cut off by screams as the rat raced across the stage again.

“Come with me,” Master Gooway tapped the reader and led him away from the comotion.

The kids noticed the two adults walk into the toddler toy area but didn’t say anything.

“What’s your name?” Master Gooway asked the man.

“Joseph Ward.”

“What are you reading, Joseph?”

“A book.”

“What’s the book about?”

“Praying Mantises.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes,” Joseph pauses, “Can I ask you some questions?”

“Of course.”

“What’s your name?”

“People call me Master Gooway.”

“What do you want, Master Gooway?”

“A friend told me to go the library for help finding my son. I think you might be the one who will help me find him.”

“You want me to help you?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll help you.”

Master Gooway smiled, “I knew I could count on you, Joseph.”

SAD!

   “...Call me Mr. Rattlebone.” Master Gooway tried to sense where the song was playing from but he couldn’t. It was coming from in front of him, behind him, above him, below him. It was everywhere… but nowhere.
   “Cleo!” Gooway said in a tone that one might use to get attention of their pet. “Come with me,” he started walking towards a nearby bench. Cleo ran to catch up with him.
   The song continued, “Holy Ghost who haunts your home. They don't know you like I know you. Call me Mr. Rattlebone.”
   They sat down. “Cleo,” Master Gooway said, staring into the souls of her eyes, “Do you have a phone and earbuds?”
   “U-uh yeah?” Cleo took the stuff out of her pocket and gave them to Gooway.
   “That other song was bad,” Gooway said as he pulled up a song and offered Cleo an earbud.
They calmly sat and listened to XXXTentacion’s words echo in their ears, “You decide, if you're ever gonna let me know, yeah. Suicide, if you ever try to let go, uh. I'm sad and low, yeah, I'm sad I know, yeah.”

Chief Sitting Bull

“Hmmmmm,” A single raindrop landed on Master Gooway’s bald scalp. He looked up to the sky. Dark swirling clouds spun around him threateningly. 

Master Gooway got up and walked to his apartment. No use in trying to finding his child in a tornado. 

He looked around the apartment lobby. The apartment had been renovated recently and had those huge modern glass walls. 

Patter. Patter. Patter. Raindrops smacked against the glass ceiling above Master Gooway.

Master Gooway looked up for the raindrops and saw a portrait of Chief Sitting Bull.

He held the portrait’s gaze for a minute, looked around at all the glass walls and ceilings in the looby, then looked back up to Chief Sitting Bull’s ominous gaze.

Master Gooway let out a heavy breath, looked down, closed his eyes, and finally said to the portrait, “Chief, this is not it.”

He had to make a decision fast, the tornado would arrive soon. So Master Gooway got in the elevator, because there are no windows in an elevator.

Cleo Valentine came in with him. She looked up at him and he looked down at her.

Then, the elevator came to a sudden stop. Master Gooway watched Cleo flail across the elevator like people who ride trains and don’t pay attention to when the train is going to start or stop. Master Gooway though, had been paying attention. He didn’t flinch. He knew the tornado was coming.

Cleo looked up to Gooway, frightened. So he comforted her saying, “Don’t worry, we are not going to die here, not today.”

She asked him how he knew. He told her about his quest to find his child. She offered to help him. He told her to focus on her own quest of finding Leclerc. She asked him how he knew about that. He smiled and she took a picture of him for her wall.

And then they just sat together, but alone, in their world of darkness.

Drunken Advice

  “What are you doing here?” a hammered Tyson asked Master Gooway as he stepped into the town bar, Cece’s Slingers. Gooway was old but he emitted a youthful, powerful aura. Each movement he made felt as if it had a purpose to it. 

   “I was looking for the town drunk, and I believe I have found him,” Master Gooway answered calmly as he pulled up a chair next to Tyson. 

   “And why were you looking for me?” Tyson asked, kind of scared, kind of offended. 

   “I need you,” Master Gooway said staring into the souls of Tyson’s eyes, “for what you know. For what you have done.”

   Tyson jumped to his feet, “I have no idea what you’re talking about!” he yelled defensively. 

   Master Gooway chuckled to himself, and patted Tyson’s seat, encouraging him to sit back down.

“Relax, I just need some advice and there is nobody better to go to for advice than the town drunk,” Tyson slowly slunk back into his chair not taking his eyes off the old man, “You are invisible to people who try to ignore and forget you out of their lives. But you hear everything. You see everything. You are the wisest man in Pointe Place.”

   A slight smile crept up Tyson’s face. He took a sip of his Jim Beam bourbon. It had been a while since he’d gotten a compliment, “Well, tell me what you need,” he said. 

   “I am trying to find somebody,” Gooway explained, “I don’t know what they look like but they should be in their 20’s now.” Tyson looked around the bar. It was a Monday morning, and nobody was there but them and the bartender, busy cleaning shot glasses from Sunday night. 

   “Well whenever I need help finding something, I go to the library,” Tyson drunkenly advised Gooway, “they’ve got so many resources there. Books, computers, and the Librarians are great!”

   “Of course. Thanks for the help,” Master Gooway threw Tyson a twenty, “A token of my appreciation.” He gave Tyson a wink and left.

Arrival

“Master Oogway?” the Uber driver said, “We are here.”

“It’s Master Gooway,” the old man said as he stepped out the door of the Honda Civic,
“You must have me confused with someone else.” Pink lights of an apartment building's vacancy
sign flash across his wizened eyes like the leaves of old sensei Fishu’s cherry blossom tree.

Fishu stood waiting for a young Gooway outside the family shrine.

“Your father,” Fishu began, “was a man with respect for The Way. Because of that no man could
touch him,” Fishu paced behind Gooway. “So it makes sense then, that the only thing that could kill him
was a disease,” Fishu thrusted a curtain to the side revealing four blades. “Your family is cursed, on your
sixtieth birthday you will die just as your father has and everyone else in your family. For now I will teach
you The Way and when the time comes will be buried here,” Fishu gestured to family shrine, “and your
blade will be hung here.”

The old Master Gooway sat down on the bed of his new apartment in Pointe Place and helpfully
reflected aloud. “Fishu said I would find my child here. I will not neglect my child on my deathbed as
my father neglected me.