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Suharto Struna

His name is Suharto Struna, often simply nicknamed 'Su'. There is a 99% chance that this is not his true birth name, but he doesn't say anything about it one way or another.

Suharto (often nicknamed 'Su') is a 29 year-old Mongolian barbecue cook at a friend's local grill. It's called General Jian's Buffet and Cuisine, though despite the name, virtually no genuine Chinese fare is served, and Suharto certainly isn't Asian himself.

He has a lean, ropy muscled physique and stands at about 5'8". His deep indigo eyes are narrowed in a very cowpoke way, and he has bronze-tan skin that crinkles a bit around his eyes and at the corner of his constantly smirking mouth. He has a wavy mess of indigo-black hair, and often sports a 5 o'clock shadow. He tends to dress in plaids, jeans, dusty boots and loud belts. He also constantly chews on nicotine gum - Su quit his 14-year smoking habit as soon as Dallas entered his life, though that change hasn't been easy on him.

In contrast to shy Dallas, Suharto is ridiculously social, proud, and boisterous, and a show-off. He is a shameless flirt, though he doesn't only seek the romantic attention of women - he wants the attention of EVERYONE, and often gets himself into trouble because of it. In addition, he seems to think he is an old time Western wanderer, unbound by rules and tradition, and to create an air of mystery and wonder around his character, he makes up utterly fantastic lies about his exploits and his past. Still, Suharto takes pride in his own code of honor, and he values his friendships with other people very seriously.

He acquired a cabbage as part of a community service requirement handed to him from the local courts for a disorderly conduct misdemeanor (read: he was blazingly drunk in public. On a Sunday). Su didn't really understand what was so awful about being assigned a cabbage to water, at least until a baby crawled out of it one day. Oops.

In spite of the strange start, Suharto and Dallas have a rather good relationship - he has taken to referring to Dallas as his 'little brother' (since he is worried that referring to the kid as his child would turn off the ladies). Suharto sees it as his mission to make sure that Dallas grows up to be a Proper Man, and to this goal, he'll give Dallas the entirety of his misguided tips.

Dallas:


Suharto:

Solo Story #1 - Deciding to Adopt a Cabbage...sort of


The judge took her time, sitting at her aged, orderly table and looking through the papers of a particular file. She was not as old as one would expect, only forty, but a frosty demeanor and angled face gave her presence a sense of wizened gravity reserved for people twice her age. Her whole entire office, in fact, gave off the same gravity she did. All of the books and busts along the wall oppressively weighed down the mood, dampening anybody's attempt at light and cheer while they sat in this place.

And indeed, a younger man sat opposite to her, dressed in a slightly wrinkled khaki suit and blue dress shirt. He seemed to think that a bola tie and wide turquoise belt would dress up the outfit appropriately for a court hearing, but he didn't seem to stun anybody with his charming attire, least of all the judge. As he sat before the judge, he resembled a naughty child more than a grown man, his shoulders hunched, his gaze solidly upon his folded hands.

"Your Honor," Suharto Struna finally said, glancing up, "On that day, I honestly didn't realize that was a bingo rally. If I had any idea it wasn't the bar, I swear that I wouldn't have taken off-"

"Mr. Struna," the judge snapped, "The details of the incident are not up for debate. There are more than enough scandalized old women just burning to get on the stand and testify against you."

He leaned forward in his seat, trying to entreat her with his dark indigo eyes. "Please. It's just that I've never caused a problem like that before, your Honor. That has to mean something, right?"

She sighed. "If this was an isolated case, Mr. Struna, then we would not have an issue here at all. But it is most definitely not."

The woman produced a file from a drawer in her desk. She required both hands and a fair bit of upper-arm strength to hoist the file out entirely, then let it fall onto the mahogany table top with a dramatic thud.

"Since you have arrived in this town from God-knows-where a year ago, you have managed to collect a very impressive array of misdemeanors and complaints. You show very little thought or caution to your actions, and have been the source of distress to an ever-growing number of citizens here, whether through your driving, or your drunken escapades, or simply your tendency to be loud-"

"But nothing ever serious," he interjected. "I keep to the law, your Honor. On my soul, I swear I've never stolen from anyone, or hurt another person. I've done nothing worth this giant stink."

"You are very wrong. To be blunt, you face jail time now, Mr. Struna. With this number of offenses, six months is the absolute minimum I'd be willing to give you." If she waited for him to start a fight, then she would be disappointed. The judge continued. "I am certain that some time in a highly structured environment can do you some good, though I also imagine that your pride and your lifestyle would suffer as a result."

For the first time, Suharto was silent. He stared at his hands, his brow wrinkling as he thought. The judge stared at him, and her hard, oppressive gaze went far but unnoticed.

"Just so you know, your Honor," he finally said, looking up once more, "it's also against my pride to beg for mercy."

She didn't reply, and instead flipped through a few pages of his giant file. Suharto struggled to stay still in his seat, fighting the urges to fidget or stand up and pace, or even to speak more on his behalf. So he stared at his folded hands once more, and tried to calm himself down.

"Hm. Your employer did make a rather powerful plea on your behalf," the judge said, a few minutes later. "He notes that you have a positive and well-meaning attitude, but more surprising to me is how you have few absences and lates to report there.

"Got that right, Your Honor. Can't have good digs unless you keep a job." Suharto leaned back in his seat a little, preening a little even in spite of the serious situation. "Good for him that he said great things about me. If not, he'd lose out the most charming and skilled asset his resturant has."

The judge took off her glasses, setting them on the table next to her water. She frowned, then laced her fingers together and propped her elbows on her table. And for the first time, she met Suharto eye-to-eye.

"Mr. Struna. Though it is a fact that I know drunken fraternity boys who exercise more forethought and caution than you do-"

"Didn't know that was your taste, your Honor..."

"-please note it is only out of my wish to see you actually mature into a fully functioning member of society that I will even allow you to have a choice in your own sentencing."

His face was the definition of 'stunned' for a moment, then animated again with a broad smile. He leaned forward, out of his chair. "Really?"

"You can sit in jail for six months, and learn some restraint there, or you can choose to take custody of a rather unique cabbage."

"Cabbage?" Suharto sunk back into his seat. "I get to see a lot of cabbages in my work, your Honor, but mostly for the purpose of choppin' and grillin' them up-"

"No. " the judge interrupted, so forceful that Suharto jolted a little. "Don't even entertain the thought of doing that. If you were to do that to this cabbage, Mr. Struna, not only do I believe you will find yourself rather traumatized, but you will suffer at least 20 years in jail and a fine that you would not pay off until you die."

"Oh." He considered that for a moment, then asked, "Alright. So how do you keep this cabbage alive?"

"Just water it, Mr. Struna. More detailed instructions will be relayed for you, but as long as you know how to apply water to a pot - I believe I can give you credit for that much - then you will be successful."

"Little do you know that I happen to be a master at watering cabbages, your Honor," he said, and drew his hand over his heart. "How long will this responsibility be mine?"

"Six months, minimum. The same as your jail sentence would be. We will re-evaluate your records and progress at that time, and gauge whether or not you are fit to continue caring for him or her."

"Him or her?" Suharto rubbed his forehead with his fingers. At least jail would have been a more straightforward option. "What do you mean by that?"

The judge's steel blue eyes flashed for a moment. She coughed lightly, then said, "I mean the cabbage, of course. Do you agree to this second condition then, Mr. Struna?"

He nodded. "It'll be an adventure, I guess. Just tell me where to sign."