Marvel Salted Fish Kryptonian

"Oh, the dream of becoming a star."

"Not necessarily. Maybe just to see the world. I won't be staying here for long anyway. Buying a car and then having to sell it again is a hassle. Asking someone to take care of it is the same."

Tom said seriously, "If you're willing to listen to my advice, then my advice to you is to buy a car. I don't know how many times you plan to go on the crabbing boat, but if you don't have a bank account, believe me, you don't want to carry that bag through airport security. -"

Pointing to the old backpack lying next to Henry.

"—So the best option for you is to take the ferry. Another advantage of the ferry is that if you pay an extra fee, you can drive your car aboard and take it with you to your destination.

"This way you can save time and trouble finding local transportation."

Henry frowned and asked, "Will there be trouble with airport security checks for domestic flights?"

Tom shrugged helplessly and said, "You never know how those who hold public power will use the power they are given. I only know that smart people will know how to stay away from trouble.

"By comparison, the ferry is much simpler. You buy a ticket, drive on board; when you reach your destination, drive off. That's it. Even if you have a whole carriage full of explosives, as long as you don't detonate it right away, no one will care."

Tom leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Of course, the one minor drawback of the ferry is that it takes a little longer," he said. "If that's not a good idea for you, I have no objection. I was just offering a suggestion."

"Okay, then help me buy a car. Or tell me where I can find a used car?"

"What do you want from a car?"

"Four wheels, as long as it can run with gas."

With a laugh, Tom untied the car keys from his keychain and tossed them to Henry. "The used car dealerships in town only sell junk. You should drive this baby."

Henry looked at the key in his hand with disgust, then looked at Old Tom.

The old man said dissatisfiedly: "Hey, that's a Cadillac DeVille, a '65 classic model. Who wouldn't like this baby? Besides, there is a benefit to driving this car."

Uh, 25 years old. It wasn't a well-cared-for vintage car, just reasonably clean.

Although his standards were not high, he felt like a ragpicker. Henry asked unsatisfiedly, "What's the benefit?"

"Just look at the license plate, and the cops won't stop you. And even if they do, just tell them Old Tom is still handling the paperwork and transfer, and no one's going to bother you."

So the real value lies in the license plate. Henry silently accepted the car keys.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" Tom asked with satisfaction. It was unclear whether he was happy because he could get a new car or because he had made a lot of money from this deal.

New book, please read, collect, and recommend, thank you~~

Chapter 21 Return

Henry pushed the bundle of money in the middle out again.

In response to Tom's question, Henry said bluntly, "It depends on what documents you think I need. If you can help me with them, then go ahead and get them. I think I should have a driver's license."

The same problem: Henry wasn't familiar with this world. Even before crossing over, he wasn't familiar with this country across the ocean. So when he was unsure about something, he still had to consult the locals.

This time Tom accepted the bundle of money on the table with a clear conscience. It was ten thousand taels, and who wouldn't want it?

He put the bill to his nose, sniffed it, and swiped it a few times with his hand. Tom smiled with satisfaction and said, "Okay. The ID will be included with the car transfer documents. You can pick it up next time you come to town. If it's urgent, give me at least three days."

"No rush, I won't be here for a week. But is the money enough?"

"That's enough, Boss." Tom thought for a moment and said seriously, "Now it's my turn to have a question, Boss. Henry what?"

"What?" Henry was puzzled.

"Surname, your surname. Your ID can't just say Henry, right? It gives people the impression there's something fishy going on, even without checking."

This is true...

So the surname question came up again. What should I use? Kent? Wayne? Al? Keptton? Ennuo Owen, as the Russians had called him? Or should I just keep it simple and use Owen?

After careful consideration, Henry gave his answer. "Henry Brown."

This was Old John's last name. He was the first person to show kindness to me after I came to this world.

I borrowed his surname. Since I didn't intend to be his godson, he probably wouldn't mind. It wasn't some noble surname that could be inherited.

"Is that all right?" Henry asked.

"Of course, Boss. Even if you want to call him Charlie Brown and get a dog, I have no objection," Tom joked.

"That's it. See you in a week." Henry picked up his backpack and prepared to leave.

Tom wanted to watch them leave and just waved from his seat, but then he seemed to think of something, stood up, found an empty box, and followed them out.

"What's wrong?" Henry asked again.

"I'll clean up the junk in the car. There are also some personal belongings. It's an eyesore for you to see them. Why don't you let me take them away?"

"Okay." Henry knew the truth that gifts are garbage. He just needed a car, not all the weird stuff that came with it.

Tom collected quite a lot of garbage, including some used or unused covers, Coke cans under the seat cushions, bottle caps, coins, etc.

The most eye-catching thing is the short revolver in the passenger compartment. It is shiny and well-maintained.

As he took the revolver, Tom said, "Alaska doesn't require a gun license. When you buy a gun, you just register your proof of purchase. This makes it easier for the police to track you. So if you don't have a gun license, it's not that I won't help you, but it's just that you can't get one in Alaska."

Henry certainly didn't need a gun, so he just took it away. He didn't care about Tom's extra words. "It's okay, I don't need it."

"My honest advice: If you're planning to hike the Alaskan roads, at least pack a shotgun. That way, if you encounter a bear, you won't have to fight it hand-to-hand."

Henry paused as he was about to open the door and get in the car, then turned around and asked, "Bears, are there many?"

"Bad luck will always happen. But when bad luck will happen to a person, no one can predict, right?"

Considering he wasn't afraid of Earth's bears, the question was simply about bear paws and bear gallbladders. Henry waved his hand, said, "I understand," and got in the car.

Just as Henry was about to drive away, Tom stopped the car again. He had someone roll down the window and handed him an atlas. He said, "Although this map is old, Alaska hasn't changed much in the past few decades. I'm sure you'll find it useful."

"Thanks."

Placing the map on the passenger seat, where it could be easily reached, Henry drove off.

I had learned how to drive a manual transmission car before crossing over, but I just didn't have the money to buy a car. Although after decades, the old ways are not so good, but with the help of super senses and super brain, driving is not a big problem.

This classic car, which had been run in quite well, set off smoothly.

As for the sense of space required for driving, that goes without saying. With the road conditions in the United States, or even in Alaska, it is difficult to hit a car on the road, let alone get stuck or hit anything.

Before heading back to Old John's bar, we drove to the town store to do some shopping.

This is a grocery store run by an elderly couple in town. They sell everything from clothes to lawn mowers, from Coke to parasols. There aren't many items in a single category, but they have everything you need.

The couple were both regulars at Old John's bar. Or rather, every resident in the town was a regular at that one and only bar.

The aunt was the only one in the shop today. When she saw Henry come in, she greeted him warmly. "Hey, young man, you're back. You must have made a great return on this trip."

"The captain is very happy with his earnings, so our pay is also pretty good," Henry said straightly.

He wasn't wrong, nor was he being overly modest. After all, everyone knew he was just a small-time green hand, and there was no way he could get the lion's share. But as long as he returned safely, he would be better than many others.

The woman behind the counter said, "Whatever you need, feel free to pick it up. I'll give you a 20% discount. Consider it a gift from me. Old John's been nagging about you these days. Go back early after you buy it so he can see it."

"Got it." Henry grabbed a few sets of clothes and underwear, then some snacks. He then went to the freezer to pick up some food. He felt guilty for always eating from Old John.

I did want to bring a gift back, but Old John didn't like items with purely commemorative value. As for what the bar was missing or what was broken and needed to be replaced, he really didn't have any.

Don't assume that an elderly man living alone is slovenly and unlivable. Being good at hands-on work means he won't have anything broken but barely usable in his life, or anything that's redundant and unused.

Henry, who has also lived alone, knows very well that if such a person is given a gift that does not suit his taste by an outsider, he will only feel that the other person is causing trouble for him and taking up his space.

As for what kind of gift is just right, there's probably no answer even if you ask the person himself. So I simply don't think about these unnecessary things.

Men won't be moved to tears by something with a little sense of ritual.

What makes people empathize might be the long legs seen on the roadside, the straight wooden stick picked up casually, or the meme pictures made by some idiot.

Considering Old John's background, maybe helping him kidnap a Japanese devil or a Nazi would be more popular?

Henry thought so.

New book, please read, collect, and recommend, thank you~~

Chapter 22 Cooking

"John, I'm back."

"I'm back."

There was no scene of hugging and crying, nor any expression of tears in the eyes.

To put it simply, the two of them had only known each other for a month or two, and their relationship wasn't that close yet.

To put it bluntly, the greeting between two grown men is so plain and simple, there is no possibility of anything weird happening.

So, standing behind the bar, Old John, wiping his glasses, didn't even raise his eyelids and simply asked, "Just got off the boat?"

"Just got back to Hong Kong this morning. I took care of some things and came back."

Old John also knew the situation on the crab boats, and he immediately understood Henry's situation. He said casually, "If you want to rest, go to the room. Don't lie in the bar like a homeless person. I don't take people like that here."

At the same time, Henry was offered a glass of whiskey, completely disregarding the legal drinking age.

"Got it." Henry drank the whiskey in one gulp and ran to the room behind the bar.

Although he could continue working, in order not to be too shocking, he decided to just go with the flow and rest.

After working non-stop for several days at a high intensity, it was an extreme overtime I had never experienced before crossing over. Even with the physique of a Kryptonian, I felt something was amiss.

You know, the Bering Sea still has sunshine in winter. It can be said that Henry was working while recharging his batteries. For his physique, not only was the energy consumption minimal, but he actually received more energy than working at a bar.

But energy supplements aren't the nutrients the body needs. While they might keep you going when you're high, once you relax, it's like a power outage, and you lose consciousness.

I don't know how long he slept, but he was finally woken up by the urge to urinate. After his body recovered to a certain extent, Henry resumed normal excretion, unlike before when he only took in but not excreted.

When Henry woke up, he ran to the bathroom in a vest and shorts, regardless of the low temperature in the house, which was not heated enough.

Then when he came out, he noticed that the bar was closed in the evening. Old John sat up from the sofa by the wall with a resentful look and looked at the man who had just been woken up by the urge to pee.

"John, why are you sleeping here?" After asking this question, Henry realized that he was asking a question he already knew the answer to.

As expected, Old John's venomous words came out as expected. He said: "When you first came here, I could have dragged you away with just one finger. I damn doubt that I have been feeding you pig feed all this time.

"Lie on my bed. I'd have a hard time kicking you off. You idiot! How dare you ask me why I don't lie down on a bed? Even if you've cleaned your ass, I'm not interested in you as a man."

"Yes, yes. Next time I will really wash it clean and then show it to you to see if you are really not interested. Okay?" He replied indifferently.

But the most important task now is to get food for myself.

So Henry started to rummage through the refrigerator. He had bought some ingredients from the store when he came back, and he just took them out to cook.

Now that the old man was awake, Henry certainly didn't just focus on his own portion. He casually asked, "Do you want something to eat? I'm starving."

John, who was sitting at the bar, shook his head and said, "No, eating in the middle of the night is not good for the old man's digestion."

Henry didn't comment and started to prepare the food he wanted to eat.

Before I traveled through time, I lived alone. Besides eating out, I would occasionally make my own food. Not for nutrition or to save money, but simply because I wanted to eat.

If you can't find a good restaurant, you might as well make your own recipes. For example, I saw a German family film called Chicken Braised in Red Wine.

Rather than being moved by the father-daughter bond that blossomed from nothing, I was more tempted by the dish in the movie. I went there because of the movie's title.

But I can't find any restaurant that serves this dish. If you want to eat it, why not make it yourself?

For example, in order to have a taste of the dish that appeared in the anime - golden fried rice, I even practiced flipping the wok.

No matter whether the golden fried rice made him satisfied or disappointed in the end, he had at least mastered the art of cooking.

During the more than one month that Henry was taken in by Old John, he also prepared food several times.

With his mediocre skills, it is impossible for him to become a top chef who can even make fried rice glow after reaching the other side of the ocean.

After all, the delicacies of my hometown are made with a variety of spices. Even bland things like bear paws and shark fins can be made to taste good.

Spices were considered a luxury item in Europe and America a hundred or eighty years ago. At most, people would use salt and commonly found herbs to season their food.

For a state whose economy is based on fishing and oil, agricultural and livestock products must be imported from Canada or shipped thousands of miles from the U.S. Alaska certainly doesn't have room for Henry, a half-baked chef, to perform.

Fortunately, the essence of American food culture is that it is oily and salty, and the portions are large and filling!

As long as you avoid foods and meats controlled by large grain producers, you can still find high-quality ingredients from small agricultural products. Admittedly, there are also risks of making mistakes with small agricultural products.

But these are not a big problem for Henry, who has a super sense of smell.

After a period of identification, Henry can now skillfully eliminate those ingredients that are spoiled or about to spoil.

After eliminating some ingredients with obvious chemical taste and too many negative and strange smells, Henry was able to pick out materials that were of very good quality.