Puke-ka-boo
Thursday, January 26th, 2006She is a hot babe with refined waist and voluptuous boobs. Her ass points high in the air and she’d escape no man’s fantasy. In fact, she’d very much fulfill every man’s wildest fantasy. An easily misunderstood figure she is, akin with me, as we were born on the same day. There is boundless sarcasm that circulates behind her back but what I admire her most is her don’t-give-a-damn attitude. She ignores those judgments passed onto her and doesn’t change for the sake of people’s big mouths or eyes. She is what she wants to be. She does whatever she likes, like a scorpion that hunts ceaselessly. She once told me: "I like to be bad. But not evil". I just licked my lips again when I recalled that. Both of us worship not Satan, but Satan’s rule - Free will.
But myth depicts two born on the same day as natural rivals, for one brings bad luck to another and vice versa. I feel that violence would take place if both are to cross the bridge from opposite directions. Both of us were never close though. Separate paths we take. Maybe in future both would dig way and meet each other underground. Hell may break loose.
Born on the same day and gained popularity are Claude Monet and King Hussein.
I set the rendezvous about 10.30-11 and intended to be late. Coz King should be waited upon and arrive last. But some buggers had to play games and come later than me. Dishonor it was but they never took it seriously. Nevertheless, all stepped foot about the same time except two motherfuckers who didn’t learn to be punctual on such occasion. I led on and got to that bartender whom I contacted earlier. A hospitable handshake and broad smile jumped outta no where when I was inquiring another fella about his whereabouts.
On the table stood a paper written: ‘Mr. King’ and all of us laid our asses on a semi circle sofa to enjoy the rest of the night. Two bottles of Chivas were served.
A friend asked: "What have you got to say before you turn 20?"
"So, am I supposed to give a speech or what? Wait. Wait. Gimme a second"
"Alright. Alright. What I wanna say is I admit that last time I was very naughty. But after twelve you won’t find me any better"
Then we banged our glasses and gulped down that liquor. The bartender also joined in. In just half an hour, I had gobbled down 5 glasses of thick Chivas mixed with a few drops of Coke. I knew I had a tough night to hang onto. But my friends showed no mercy and demanded that I drank from the bottle for 10 seconds. That was real disgusting. They counted to 10 and I imperceptibly spat some back into my already filled glass. The lady DJ announced: "Very happy birthday to Mr. King!" 12 struck and all friends wished me. I had to visit John not long after. My stomach was already bloated with burning Chivas and head began to be a little bit giddy.
But I resisted the stomach’s queasiness and head’s dizziness. Later, another 6 seconds of pure Chivas was poured into my mouth and I flushed it down my throat, face crumbled. If I breathed and lighted, I would blow fire like a dragon. In 45 minutes, the bottle of Chivas turned into a decoration vase because half share of the bottle was spiraling in my stomach.
They wanted a drunken King, they had got it. I grabbed them to the stage to dance with me. Nobody could refuse coz I was fueled with enormous strength. I thrust all of them to the centre and danced like crazy frog. I lifted most of them with a sideboard slam, power slam and FU maneuver. After shaking my booties, I resumed drinking and puffed a sperm-killing stick of Dunhill Menthol Light.
The bartender whispered into my ears. I think he didn’t. He was actually yelling at the top of his voice. But my ears were impaired. The music was loud. His voice was louder transmitting through the ear passage but I couldn’t make out a single word he was saying. I showed thumbs-up. He looked bewildered. He ‘whispered’ again. I showed thumbs-up again. He looked more perplexed. Then he returned to the bar, apparently mixing a jug of liquid for me. Red color liquid, transparent liquid, some whisky I saw, he jumbled all up. I needed to pay. Thought it was free. I thought he made me a birthday drink. I fumbled through my pocket & got him 100 bucks, only to realize the jug cost about 90 when I got my change. But hell, it tasted so heavenly sweet & I loved it. Some Malay guy requested me to teach him shuffle and I did. Then, he stole some of my heaven juice.
For hours I was in cloudy heaven but instantaneously, I was too heavy to be sustained by clouds. I ate the forbidden fruit and was exiled from the Garden of Eden by God. Like a fallen angel I plummeted to earth, and because of the friction with atmosphere, I caught ablaze. Like a meteor, I sliced through the thick ozone and fell to hell. The Chivas was like acid penetrating the stomach while the heaven juice was like dry ice sticking to and freezing the abdominal muscles. Those two forces clashed in my stomach and caused typhoon. Waves of nausea seized me and upon entering the loo, liquid started spurting off my mouth. I had to continue the rest in my mouth in the sink.
This time was worse than last year’s. I really shouldn’t have driven. My head was twirling violently and that alcohol mercilessly churned my stomach and made me totally obnoxious. I really wished I had not taken so much. I really wished. I begged my life for it. No sooner had I reached my friend’s house, I fell on my knees and vomited into the drain. My head was agonizingly spinning and I ejected another load again before going into my friend’s house.
Then at mamak, I laid on the table, with juice leaking from mouth and forming puddles on the floor. My food arrived and it was left untouched. Except the egg. My friend helped me with it. I carelessly spilled my drink before leaving that place. I took a sleepless nap at my friend’s and when morning glaringly broke, I was like a vampire expanding its blood shot eyes and screaming of scorching pain.
It was just another exhausted night for my friends. But my head was no lighter and every now and then, the throat felt that alcohol was on the verge of splattering out. Their Kwon Low noodles smelled so delicious and tasted so sumptuous. I bitterly forced it down my throat just to fill the emptiness. But then, I had to go to the toilet again. A small quantity of concentrated Chivas shot out.
Why couldn’t I just puke all out at once? The alcohol just stubbornly stagnated in my stomach and refused to be passed out through any exit.
Finally, home sweet home. It was still stuck in me but I felt like puking. I prepared a basin and lied on my bed. All of a sudden, it gushed to my throat and splashed out. I was delighted indeed but was still hoping for more. Again, my stomach contracted hard enough to push all liquid to my mouth. One third of the basin was filled with puke that smelled Chivas and Kwon Low mee. I had the basin cleaned and recuperation officially commenced the moment I shut my eyes. A birthday that was pathetically spent in bed…
