I just came back from lunch with a colleague.
She drove, I happily sat next to her (oh the joy of being driven!), and as I’m such a penglipurlara, started to entertain her with weekend stories, and Bang! She hit the front car.
It was a horror of a car… and a monster of a driver. A white automobile, not exactly a car, but not quite a van. It had no H logo for Honda, or three stuck triangles for Mitsubishi… no logo, no name, no signature, so, do not expect me to know what make it was. I just know how to drive one… Schumacher style.
The vehicle was scratched and dented in more areas than one, left tail-light was broken, the back signal light was perpetually flashing, tyres were wobbling in a rather dangerous way, and it was terribly, awfully, filthy. And that was before the accident. After the accident - the vehicle remained the same. No extra dents or additional touch ups on existing scratches.
But the vehicle screeched to a stop and swung to the side - ala Police Story, the driver flung his door open with such force it could blow off a wig. He jumped off the seat and forced his way to the back of the car, with expressions so stormy – we would have frozen to death if we had dared to look in his eyes. But we didn’t dare. So we casted our eyes down, and stole little glances.
He was Huge. Monster truck huge. Big bulging muscles with tattoos on the right arm. I widened my eyes, just a teeny bit, to decipher the tattoos – a dragon could mean he belongs to the Ghee Hin / Hai San kongsi gelap tribe; little numbers and horizontal coordinates could mean he’s an international child adopter, like Angelina Jolie; a rose or heart could mean he’s a peace lover – (this one, easy… sap, sap, soi… we can cari makan…) But I can’t read this guy. Tattoos were symbols of Chinese characters – unintelligible. He was wearing a white T-shirt, sleeves rolled up, enhancing his die-hard muscles, baggy blue jeans and flip-flops. Hair was tightly cropped, with one earring in his right earlobe.
I glanced at my colleague. She was literally shaking. Her fingers were clenched so tight around the steering wheel, her knuckles turned white. She couldn’t say a word. Not a squeak even. I waited to see whether she wanted to say something, do something, scream, cry, whatever – No Response. The Tomb Raider warrior in me started to take over.
So I shook my head at my colleague asking her to stay in the car, and I stepped out. I went around our car to see the extent of the damage, but all I could see were tiny white scratches, which could even have been there before.
I took a deep breath and walked up to the driver. “I’m ready when you are, Mister… so let’s get on with it”. Of course I said that only in my heart.
He glared at me and swung open his boot in one forceful act. Why is everything about this guy forceful and fierce, so full of drama… So I said, “Macamana Towkay…?”
He looked up at me, stoic faced. Not a single smile.
“Hi yaa… Sikit punya cilita. Tila pa laa… Lu baik-baik jalan….” … And he proceeded with opening boxes filled with Sponge Bob soft toys….
What The??? What A Waste Of My All-Geared-Up-And-Ready–For-Action Emotions…..
Don’t judge a book by its cover.
Such a waste of my adventure-seeking time.
She drove, I happily sat next to her (oh the joy of being driven!), and as I’m such a penglipurlara, started to entertain her with weekend stories, and Bang! She hit the front car.
It was a horror of a car… and a monster of a driver. A white automobile, not exactly a car, but not quite a van. It had no H logo for Honda, or three stuck triangles for Mitsubishi… no logo, no name, no signature, so, do not expect me to know what make it was. I just know how to drive one… Schumacher style.
The vehicle was scratched and dented in more areas than one, left tail-light was broken, the back signal light was perpetually flashing, tyres were wobbling in a rather dangerous way, and it was terribly, awfully, filthy. And that was before the accident. After the accident - the vehicle remained the same. No extra dents or additional touch ups on existing scratches.
But the vehicle screeched to a stop and swung to the side - ala Police Story, the driver flung his door open with such force it could blow off a wig. He jumped off the seat and forced his way to the back of the car, with expressions so stormy – we would have frozen to death if we had dared to look in his eyes. But we didn’t dare. So we casted our eyes down, and stole little glances.
He was Huge. Monster truck huge. Big bulging muscles with tattoos on the right arm. I widened my eyes, just a teeny bit, to decipher the tattoos – a dragon could mean he belongs to the Ghee Hin / Hai San kongsi gelap tribe; little numbers and horizontal coordinates could mean he’s an international child adopter, like Angelina Jolie; a rose or heart could mean he’s a peace lover – (this one, easy… sap, sap, soi… we can cari makan…) But I can’t read this guy. Tattoos were symbols of Chinese characters – unintelligible. He was wearing a white T-shirt, sleeves rolled up, enhancing his die-hard muscles, baggy blue jeans and flip-flops. Hair was tightly cropped, with one earring in his right earlobe.
I glanced at my colleague. She was literally shaking. Her fingers were clenched so tight around the steering wheel, her knuckles turned white. She couldn’t say a word. Not a squeak even. I waited to see whether she wanted to say something, do something, scream, cry, whatever – No Response. The Tomb Raider warrior in me started to take over.
So I shook my head at my colleague asking her to stay in the car, and I stepped out. I went around our car to see the extent of the damage, but all I could see were tiny white scratches, which could even have been there before.
I took a deep breath and walked up to the driver. “I’m ready when you are, Mister… so let’s get on with it”. Of course I said that only in my heart.
He glared at me and swung open his boot in one forceful act. Why is everything about this guy forceful and fierce, so full of drama… So I said, “Macamana Towkay…?”
He looked up at me, stoic faced. Not a single smile.
“Hi yaa… Sikit punya cilita. Tila pa laa… Lu baik-baik jalan….” … And he proceeded with opening boxes filled with Sponge Bob soft toys….
What The??? What A Waste Of My All-Geared-Up-And-Ready–For-Action Emotions…..
Don’t judge a book by its cover.
Such a waste of my adventure-seeking time.
7 comments:
oo...nak tunjuk taiko le tu. ello babe, your blabbering antics wud not work in that situation ler...lucky u!!!!
Zaniem,
What I conveniently left out, was the part where I gave him one gigantic dazzling smile. So it could have been my charm tactics... not the blabbering, dearie... Hahaha!
ahaaa eh....tak sempat pon....dah cair.
I met a glamorous "Zombie" last nite. Tigress, I think it's YOU-KNOW-WHO or SHe Who Shall Not Be Named. HAHAHAHAHA.......
Neway, write it up in your blog sure semua "meletup"..!
Zaniem,
LOL... sebab kalau tak cair, I would have run lintang-pukang dah... with or without my friend..
Ginny,
I would write it up in my blog, provided I... err... know who this Zombie is. She does sound rather scary though. Perfect! A meeting under Pokok Ketapang on a full moon night maybe?
tunjuk la taiko..kene belasah nanti sapa yang susah... Abg JOEEEEEEEEE jugak...huh..
Abg Joe,
Tau tak pe... Dah CV tu besor2 dah tulis "To Be Used and Abused By Whole Family Tujuh Keturunan". Sindiri mau ingat... Ucin kena start training sekarang jugak.
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