tr1-111

"Barbecues, real cheap, come get some." Jok Jok was still whistling while arranging the items he was selling. Five hours later, Jok Jok headed to the store to get a neighboring drinking party to buy his barbecue.

"Lookin' like we're getting some shots in, eh, sir Ron. Buy some finger foods my way. Just to get my profit rolling." Jok Jok said as it's been eight PM yet no one's bought anything from him.

The drunk layabouts politely refused.

Young Jok Jok felt so down and out of luck that he stowed away all the food and went back home, teary-eyed. He finally wept when he socked the uncooked barbecue back to the fridge. Not a single person ever bought a barbecue from the kid, now overcome with self-pity. That's when his father saw him.

"Ey. What are you crying for?"

"No one bought the barbecue," the son replied, sobbing.

"Look, I already told you this yesterday, right? Damn kid, you're wasting money. 'Cause it doesn't matter if we eat nothing but entrails for three days straight. Okay, fine. After we finish supper, follow me tonight. We got lots of work to do."

And after finishing their meal, both father and son prepared for their job as embalmers.