He regarded the woman at the door as he entered his living room as she spoke from the door.
"Oh your mother isn't at home? Well don't need to wake her then."
Thick voice, fake british accent, snobby Singaporean his mind instantly thought. He didn't like her.
"Who's that?" He asked his brother.
"Uh, just the neighbour downstairs, our neighbour opposite has been splashing water and she wanted to get their number.
Immediately they heard a knocking and the unpleasant sound of that formerly smiling woman's voice.
"Open the door, I know you're in there. If not I'll have to call the security guard."
He really didn't like her.
He was rather fond of his neighbours and he knew them to be a typical Singaporean family. Well as typical as they could be if they had strange amounts of people going in and out of the house at random times. But anyway, they were cool. Though it was a Sunday, this usually meant that either only the old man of the family was at home, usually watching an intolerably loud chinese soap opera, or it was just the maid.
Judging by the closed door and the lack of loud chinese soap opera music, the old man wasn't at home either. The woman started up again, still in that snivelling snobbish pained perfect english, interrupting his train of thought.
"Hello? Yes? Yes dear, the motherfucking cowards are refusing to open the door. Can you look out your window and shout up at them. They are still in there the bitches."
Oh the irony, he thought.
"Yes dear, call up the security guards, lets see how long these dogshitting shitheads can stand in there."
More knocking.
"Open the door. Open the bloody door, I know you're in there."
It was really starting to grate on his nerves. Just his luck that he was trying to eat his lunch at that current moment.
"You shitheads, better open the door now or I'll call the police."
He had had enough.
"Excuse me ma'am, while we'd understand your current state of mind and most certainly do appreciate your impassioned remonstrations on behalf of the neighbourhood lest we too suffer from a similar act of water-splashing, we hope you do remember that I am only sixteen and I can repeat every single expletive that you have uttered in the last five minutes and I'm quite sure all the five year olds in the block can as well. I thank you for your willingness and courage to uphold the peace and enforce civic-mindedness in this community.
He really didn't like her voice.
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Because Cute, Smart, and Funny don't mean a thing
The above was supposed to be the real title, but trust me the blogskin screwed up on meLiving life to the fullest And I won't say anything at all. To all the lovely bitches like you Get your boots on |
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We Can't Talk About It - Sunday, October 16, 2011 @ 7:38 PM
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We Can't Talk About It - Sunday, October 16, 2011 @ 7:38 PM
He regarded the woman at the door as he entered his living room as she spoke from the door.
"Oh your mother isn't at home? Well don't need to wake her then." Thick voice, fake british accent, snobby Singaporean his mind instantly thought. He didn't like her. "Who's that?" He asked his brother. "Uh, just the neighbour downstairs, our neighbour opposite has been splashing water and she wanted to get their number. Immediately they heard a knocking and the unpleasant sound of that formerly smiling woman's voice. "Open the door, I know you're in there. If not I'll have to call the security guard." He really didn't like her. He was rather fond of his neighbours and he knew them to be a typical Singaporean family. Well as typical as they could be if they had strange amounts of people going in and out of the house at random times. But anyway, they were cool. Though it was a Sunday, this usually meant that either only the old man of the family was at home, usually watching an intolerably loud chinese soap opera, or it was just the maid. Judging by the closed door and the lack of loud chinese soap opera music, the old man wasn't at home either. The woman started up again, still in that snivelling snobbish pained perfect english, interrupting his train of thought. "Hello? Yes? Yes dear, the motherfucking cowards are refusing to open the door. Can you look out your window and shout up at them. They are still in there the bitches." Oh the irony, he thought. "Yes dear, call up the security guards, lets see how long these dogshitting shitheads can stand in there." More knocking. "Open the door. Open the bloody door, I know you're in there." It was really starting to grate on his nerves. Just his luck that he was trying to eat his lunch at that current moment. "You shitheads, better open the door now or I'll call the police." He had had enough. "Excuse me ma'am, while we'd understand your current state of mind and most certainly do appreciate your impassioned remonstrations on behalf of the neighbourhood lest we too suffer from a similar act of water-splashing, we hope you do remember that I am only sixteen and I can repeat every single expletive that you have uttered in the last five minutes and I'm quite sure all the five year olds in the block can as well. I thank you for your willingness and courage to uphold the peace and enforce civic-mindedness in this community. He really didn't like her voice. |
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 Just another starstruck (see above for evidence*) wanderer trying to find his way in this horribly confusing and sometimes messed up world. This space as you might have realised is for my own venting. It's where I talk, to myself. To the universe. It's where I don't lie. Much. Chances are you won't get more truth out of me than these few billion pages of angst. My life isn't that bad. Sometimes. The good parts just usually end up being the blank dates in between the posts you see. So yes, just to practice my math and to cheer myself up a little, the number of posts is inversely proportional to my mental wellbeing. Yes that counts as math with me. And despite the wry smile on my face and the grin I can imagine on yours, I'm still rather sombre. I promise you I'm sunny somedays. Stick around. You never know what you may learn. *hint may or may not be in big black font at the top of the page.
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Credits:
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Previous Posts: Lay down, rest your pretty head now ; Standing in the front row ; I'll Still Miss You Tomorrow ; Honestly.... ; Mish Stash ; When showering, do you start the water and then ge... ; Unfinished Business ; Starts in my toes ; It's Getting Sick Of Us ; this town is colder now ; Previous Months: November 1995 ; December 2009 ; January 2010 ; February 2010 ; March 2010 ; April 2010 ; May 2010 ; June 2010 ; July 2010 ; August 2010 ; September 2010 ; October 2010 ; November 2010 ; December 2010 ; January 2011 ; February 2011 ; March 2011 ; April 2011 ; May 2011 ; June 2011 ; July 2011 ; August 2011 ; September 2011 ; October 2011 ; November 2011 ; December 2011 ; January 2012 ; February 2012 ; March 2012 ; April 2012 ; May 2012 ; June 2012 ; July 2012 ; August 2012 ;
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