Sunday, May 24, 2009

Random acts of hairiness by Gary

There once was a boy named Mao. As a teenager, his friends used to tease him for being a "pei hor", which he never knew the exact meaning of but understood it to be something about his smooth hairless legs.

When Mao was 16 1/4years old, his first ever girlfriend broke up with him because she had hairier legs than him.

When Mao did his National Service, he secretly envied his hairy platoon mates as he hypothesized that a thick plantation of hair on legs and arms helped to scare away mosquitoes. Mao on the other hand, got bitten all the bloody time.

Then one day, Mao bumped into a crusty old man in Toa Payoh Lorong XX. The old man whispered to him,"Ay, boy ah, I got good stuff. You want a not?"

"No thank you Uncle, I got enough blue film liao."

"Blue kee lan ah blue. I one look I know you dunch have body hair, feel damn shy right?"

Mao was taken aback. Did someone paste a post-it note on his back? He reached around but couldn't find anything.

Crusty old man continued,"My uncle's sworn sister's neighbour's grandfather's classmate's yoga instructor's plumber went to Nepal one day, and got this lucky charm made from Yeti hair. Guaranteed to make you hairy until blur. Sell you cheap, only $180"

Mao's eyes brightened. He would have tried anything, but he was a hardcore cheapskate by heart, and tried to feign disinterest.

"Wah lau, dunno can believe you a not leh. Like not real leh, Tell you what lah uncle, see you so poor thing, give you $24 for it." Mao reached into his wallet and showed the old man the cash, thinking that the old man would have been desperate to sell off his charm anyway.

The old man paused for a bit, then sighed,"Okay lor, come give me the marnee..."

Mao grinned and took out the notes for the old man. In a flash, the old man spun, grabbed the notes, punched Mao's balls with an arthritic bony fist, then turned to walk away.

"EYAAARgggHHHHhhhhhnn!!!" Mao lay on the floor clutching his family jewels in agony.
He cried out,"Weeiiii giimeesomethinggnnnbackknn~~"

The old man paused in mid step,"You still want something ah?"

"....yeraagghhnn..."

The old man shook his head, fished out a different charm from his pocket that had a mish mash of short and odd looking hairs stuck on, and tossed it to Mao.

"You get what you pay for."

The old man scratched his bum and sauntered away.

*
Two weeks later, Mao was sitting under a tree in the park , the old man's hairy charm hung around Mao's neck as he admired the hairs growing well on his forearms and calves.

"The old fart's strange hairy charm really works. Lucky I paid $24 instead of his cutthroat price," Mao chuckled to himself.

As he stroked his hand hairs like one would stroke a Persian cat resting on one's lap, Mao noticed two brown long hairs on his forearm that looked unusually out of place.

"This won't do, girls will definitely make fun of how weird these two stupid hairs must look."

Mao figured he'd yank out the hairs, after all, they should grow back thicker next, which was something he didn't mind at all. He pulled. Strangely, the hairs extended a cm or two, then retracted back into his forearm.

"That's weird." Mao pulled again, the hairs extended, and were about to retract when Mao pulled harder. He felt a strange resistance under his skin, like the hair was trying to pull itself back, but he was determined to extract the hairs and gave a hard yank.

Out popped a black cockroach from under the skin of Mao's right forearm. Mao stared at the insect in shock and disbelief. The 'hairs' he was pulling on were actually the cockroach's feelers.

As he flung the cockroach aside, Mao noticed that his right arm was feeling terribly weak. He could still move it, but with lethargic difficulty.

Fired with a sense of overwhelming bewilderment and disgust, Mao combed his body for more odd hair pairs, determined to yank any strange creatures out. He pulled a centipede from his left leg, and a spider from his right leg. Each time he pulled an insect out, that limb experienced a debilitating sense of weakness. His left arm produced a caterpillar, and with much effort from his weakened arms, he yanked a large carpet beetle out from his chest.

Mao was wheezing by now, he didn't have the energy to inhale and exhale properly. Mao felt his hair with his hands, and as he suspected, there were two extremely thick hairs on the top of his skull which felt very different from the rest.

Mao pulled hard, but the two hairs were proving to be the toughest yet. With all the strength he could muster, Mao yelled "Ya~rrgh!" and pulled and pulled and pulled.

Out crawled a giant isopod from his scalp. As the creature emerged, Mao fell back, and slumped on the ground. His eyes stared blankly to the sky, and he stopped breathing altogether.


The giant isopod wriggled its claws, and sauntered away, followed closely by a cockroach, a centipede, a caterpillar and a carpet beetle.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

The Flower Girl by Berder

It was quite early when I first approached Victoria Theatre at around 1830hrs. No one was really there except for a group of the Publicity crew who were taking a break. They told me that the ticketing booth would not be manned so soon, so I took a roundabout the area which took me back to the spot where the flower girl in blazer from that crew approached.

“你要买花吗?可以在演出后送给你的家人或朋友。”

“我… 不知道要送给谁。”

“没关系,不知道的话可以送给我啊。哈哈!”

“Er… 给我考虑考虑,你等一下问到我再说。”

After a little while hanging around in the area I was approached again.

“你可以帮我买花吗?”

“Er… Er…”

She looked into my eyes with a powerful allure.

“我可以要你的电话号码吗?”

She was quite taken aback, but quickly regained her composure.

“可以吗?你给我你的电话号码我就跟你买。”

“Er… 我电话号码是999。”

I immediately regretted what I have said. Feeling guilty…

“Er… 好吧。”

So she happily took the three dollars from me and returned the fifty-cent change with a smile.

“Thank you!”

And so that rose accompanied me throughout the performance.

***

After the performance, I waited at the entrance for a while, swayed here and there a little and bumped into a few friends once in a while. And after half an hour, the group of them came out from the backstage after packing their stuff.

I could feel my heart jumped out of my mouth at that instant.

I approached her after she was done on the phone.

“其实我真的不知道要把花送给谁。我就送给你吧。有缘再见。”

Maybe she would just throw away the rose at the end of the day, but perhaps I shall see her again next year.

~

For the sake of remembering this little incident that happened last night before and after watching Huang Cheng Ye Yun.

Sunday, April 5, 2009

That Look in Her Eyes

She was young and didn't know any better. At least that was what people said in her defense whenever her story was recounted.

But really, at 16 years of age, was that a defensible excuse? Is there ever an acceptable age when people are automatically accounted to "know better"?

The story started in an accident & emergency ward of a Vietnamese hospital. She was at the hospital waiting for news of a relative who was involved in an accident. As she turned to search for a seat, she saw someone being wheeled by; he was lying down in a hospital bed.

"O, what a handsome mien this chap has!" she thought to herself. "I have rarely seen anyone so good-looking. What a pity he is in such a state."

She shared those thoughts with her closest friend and confidante later on recounting her hospital trip.

A few days passed uneventfully. On one fateful day, she was supposed to meet some potential suitors her parents had chosen for her. But she took ill suddenly and the meeting never happened.

Overnight, her temper also took a turn for the worse. Where she used to very biddable and gentle, she flew into a rage easily now at the smallest slight, imagined or otherwise.

Her parents didn't understand the change. Being wealthy, educated Vietnamese, they initially dismissed suggestions from relatives to seek guidance from a medium. There must be a medical reason for her metamorphosis, they insisted.

But there was a look in her eyes that defied any cure by western medicine. A blankness in those dark orbs where vitality and humour once flashed. Finally, they caved in and sought a medium's advice without her knowledge. At the medium's advice, they bound her forcefully, and took her kicking and screaming to a medium. The medium's conclusion baffled the parents greatly: how could their daughter be possessed? She has been sheltered all her life and has never been known to frequent any places where she could come into contact with spirits! In disbelief they took her home.

News spread quickly of her "possession". Her best friend got wind of it and thought that the "encounter" at the hospital might have something to do with it. She told the parents who sought the medium's help to expel the spirit.

The spirit refused. "Blame her for being the one who invited me in with her pity first."

Years passed. Recently her best friend went back to Vietnam for a visit.

The look in her childhood playmate's eyes remains the same. Deep, dark and blank.

**********************
Equal parts truth and fiction. The skeleton of this story is as recounted by a Vietnamese friend of mine, with a heavy dose of fictional spicing on my end. I don't think I quite attained the feel of her story, which sent a slight chill down my spine when I first heard it.