Monday, June 28, 2004
death wish - thamby's account
I felt depressed. My goldfish just died two weeks ago. He was like a faithful servant to me. Everyday after coming home from my work as a newspaper boy, when my feet are hurting and my bones aching, I always sit in my wooden bamboo chair and look as Bubba swam around peacefully in his tank.
When Bubba died, my life was filled with sorrow. My wife of 15 years, Tangachee, became pissed off with my attitude. She felt that my mourning was a display of love and attachment to the Bubba was more than her. She became jealous and walked out on me taking our little 2 year old daughter, Mani -- the sirih of my eye, and our only source of entertainment -- our black and white TV.
Just now, after dinner I had just finished smoking my last Gudang Garam cigarette. With Tangachee gone, my source of income had depreciated. You see, she worked as a servant for a rich Malay family who treated her well and gave her a lot of money. She would usually give me that money so that I could buy beer every night. Tonight, without any beer or fags, I really didn't know what to do.
I put on my favourite black POMA t-shirt which I bought from an Ah Beng in the pasar malam. He sold it to me for only RM20, considering the fact that if I bought it in Sunway Pyramid, it would have cost me RM150. Ah Beng said that it was so cheap because when they printed the shirt, the machine jammed and closed the opening at the U and thus it became POMA. Otherwise, Ah Beng assured me it was 100% original. At first, I didn't trust him cause he had red hair. Then I realised that this was the same Ah Beng who had earlier sold me a funky kind of light which flashed when I put it near anybody with a handphone, only that his hair was yellow back then, like the colour of the sun.
I also donned a black baseball cap and my black work pants. I hopped onto my old motorbike which belonged to my dad until he passed away some 15 years ago, around the same time I met Tangachee. As I kick started the engine, I noticed that the motorbike lights had fused as well. Never mind, I thought, the streetlights were bright enough. I then went to Tangachee's parent's house to look for her and beg for forgiveness. Well, I had to. I had already ran out of cigarrettes and I haven't had a Guiness Stout in 2 weeks.
After much persuasion and apology, promising to worship the floor she walked on, she agreed to return with our daughter. Little does she know that I will beat her soundly when she gets home. Bitch. Anyway, on the way back to our flat, I passed the row of houses in which Tangachee worked for. The street lights were fused, but it didn't matter much to me because I wanted to get home as soon as possible. It didn't matter that both Tangachee and Mani were also wearing black. It didn't bother me that my motorbike was made to fit 2 people and not 3. Mani was small. Tangachee could hold her on her lap and sandwich her between herself and me.
As I was flying down the lane like Evil Kenival, I noticed a shiny brown car heading towards me. It was then I realised that I was riding in the wrong lane, but it didn't matter since it was a small road. My cat eyes told me that there was a young cool dude driving that car. Hah. Not as cool as me though. I had a POMA shirt. He was wearing PUMA. Mine is unique. I figured, because of his age, he would hav to give me the right of the way. Young kids these days, I tell you have no manners at all. He just kept driving into my direction.
I didn't want to show him that I was a chicken. I continued my path. I was pretty sure he saw me even though I was fully dressed in black, had dark complexion, and didn't have lights on my bike. About 10 feet away from me, the young arrogant boy finally jammed his tyres. Guess he didn't have the balls to run into me. Why he gave me a loud horn, I have no idea. Maybe he was showing his appreciation for my daredevil stunt. As I rode my motorbike past him, he gave me a cold stare which I replied with a smile showing him my flawlessly white teeth.
I sped off in the same direction I was heading, trying to look for more victims I could bully into jamming their brakes to make way for me.