SUCH IS THE SCANDAL
It's 8.30pm and I hear the blaring of an ambulance on the busy road outside the office. I still can't get over the fact that I'm living and working in a big city in which crime is an accepted norm, and life is a rat race.
My life has been having some bumps these past few days. First, I drove more than 300km north just to attend a course that did not exist.
I had the date wrong. The course is next Monday. Seeesh.
OK, so I came back to JB and put myself back to work.
But then a crazy thing happened when my folks accidentally met my beloved, Number Three at my beloved's workplace, the pharmacy.
It did not help that I hadn't returned home the night before as I was sleeping over at Number Three's house.
And my dad, being the silent and fierce-looking former headmaster he is, went on to ask Number Three: "So, my son often stays over at your place, is it?"
My mother was equally inquisitive. While asking for some Vitamin E pills, she asked Number Three about how I had been away most of the time and how I may want to move out.
Jesus, Mariam and Jusoh!
Of course, Number Three was a nervous wreck.
Takpe lah, I accept whatever had happened.
I am sure that one of these days I will move out and find a rented place of my own, regardless if it was by myself or with a housemate, or maybe with a Playboy playmate.
But the fact that my parents can sense that their son wants to move out, and they sense that because I seldom sleep over at home nowadays, is reason for me to worry.
Well, worry about what the hell my parents may be talking amongst themselves about me.
Such is the scandal.
But frankly my dear, I rather not give a damn.
I'd rather focus on polishing my rapping skills.
It's 8.30pm and I hear the blaring of an ambulance on the busy road outside the office. I still can't get over the fact that I'm living and working in a big city in which crime is an accepted norm, and life is a rat race.
My life has been having some bumps these past few days. First, I drove more than 300km north just to attend a course that did not exist.
I had the date wrong. The course is next Monday. Seeesh.
OK, so I came back to JB and put myself back to work.
But then a crazy thing happened when my folks accidentally met my beloved, Number Three at my beloved's workplace, the pharmacy.
It did not help that I hadn't returned home the night before as I was sleeping over at Number Three's house.
And my dad, being the silent and fierce-looking former headmaster he is, went on to ask Number Three: "So, my son often stays over at your place, is it?"
My mother was equally inquisitive. While asking for some Vitamin E pills, she asked Number Three about how I had been away most of the time and how I may want to move out.
Jesus, Mariam and Jusoh!
Of course, Number Three was a nervous wreck.
Takpe lah, I accept whatever had happened.
I am sure that one of these days I will move out and find a rented place of my own, regardless if it was by myself or with a housemate, or maybe with a Playboy playmate.
But the fact that my parents can sense that their son wants to move out, and they sense that because I seldom sleep over at home nowadays, is reason for me to worry.
Well, worry about what the hell my parents may be talking amongst themselves about me.
Such is the scandal.
But frankly my dear, I rather not give a damn.
I'd rather focus on polishing my rapping skills.
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