langkau fiction

What ever happened to death because of old age?

Or illness? Or heck, a snake bite? Of course, I don’t wish this to happen to anyone nor do I think it’s a ‘better death’, whatever that means. I just get really pissed off when people I know die.

It seems people nowadays tend to die due to other reasons. Gunshots. Some are suspiciously freaky, for that matter. Some got lost while tending to their animal traps. And they die. Oh, and sometimes they get thrown out of the window.

What the fuck lah, kan? Yes, tiu…

Today celebrates this birth, who was actually born six years before this version came out.

It was in August 2006, I think. I presented a paper at a conference in KL. It’s like a please-kill-me kind of paper because it was too ambitious for my tiny brain. There I was talking in front of an audience who had that kind of expression on their faces which simply read ‘You are dead, boy’. Imagine a bunch of wild, drooling hyenas just waiting to ambush a fragile newborn mousedeer. That’s how I felt then, like the drooling hyenas fragile mousedeer.

Anyways, after they had shredded my ideas into nothingness, I left the hall and quickly went down the staircase. The buffet lunch was ready and I was the first one there. The aim was to get my food and immediately disappear before the rest of the crowd congregate at the lunch hall. I didn’t fancy the idea of being questioned on my presentation during lunch time, only to be minced into useless noodles of meat.

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That thing has just finished and the strange bunch of crowds hanging out at Ruai bar for the past weeks has fizzled out. It’s now gradually morphing into its usual self with the elder regulars reclaiming their stools at the bar. I was there on Tuesday evening with the usual plan of ‘one or two beers’ but ended wrapping up the evening at around 2am.

I can still remember when my demented kanid called me one early evening “Eh, kanid, come over to Peter’s place across the road!” I was peacefully sipping my bir at Havana at the time when he interrupted me. Being the one who was constantly bullied as a kid, I obeyed my kanid‘s summon. Paid my tabs at Havana and I walked across the road to meet up with my demented kanid and Peter, the owner of Ruai.

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Two days ago, while I was busy writing a love letter to the lady with three thumbs I met in the pub, my colleague knocked on my door, opened it and came in before I could even say “Yes? Come in…” She asked me “Hey, wanna go out for lunch?” I told her I’m busy writing a goatdamn masterpiece and I don’t have time for lunch. We orang seni don’t see food as important. Then, she grabbed the chair next to my table, sat on it and asked me “Y’know what the boss told me about you the other day?” I told her no and I don’t really want to know. Okay, shoo shoo go away. You’re disrupting my train of thought.

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