On Beach Sports

I think jet skis are one of the best inventions known to Man. I drive jet skis with incredible dexterity and skill. To date I've managed to throw off quite a few pillon riders.

I have also discovered that jet skis are an excellent deterrent to obnoxious little girls who just can't shut up. A few years ago I was on a cruise with one such irritating specimen. We stopped for a while, and the kids jumped out to play on the jet skis. Two people were allocated to one jet ski and it was my misfortune that I got to ride with misfortune.

The little snot had an amazing ability to make noise even with her mouth shut, so I was understandably not too please about it. Besides, she was criticising how I steered. "Go faster, faster!" She shrieked in my ear.

All right, I thought, and started to accelerate. I suppose the speed got to my head, because I started to go faster and faster. Nothing goes better with a speeding jet ski than sharp turns, so I decided to have a go. Round and round we went, and I was having the time of my life. She...well...seemed a little green.

Then I saw a wooden ramp somewhere in the distance. Aha, thought I, here we go, and jammed my finger on the accelerator. As we streaked towards the ramp, I vaguely heard her screaming in my ear. At the last possible instant, I turned a ninety degree angle and shot past the ramp. "Let me off! You maniac!" she screamed at me.

"Why thank you," I said.

Well, round and round we went, till the fuel gauge said empty.

She wouldn't talk to me the rest of the trip, and I eventually learned how to steer a jet ski.

On Accupuncture

He breathed in the cloying scent of burning incense, and felt his mind relax. He heard the accupuncturist scuffling at the back of the clinic, washing his hands and sterilising the needles.

A moment later, he felt a soft prick in his back, then a few more to the back of his knees. He felt no pain whatsoever, and enjoyed the sensation. Even with his eyes closed he felt a presence block the light, then became aware of cold points on his face. Didn't feel those needles going in either. The accupuncturist threw something on the fire, and the smell of incense became sharp, biting his eyes and assulating his nose. He almost sneezed, but managed to control himself.

He didn't feel the pain in his lower back anymore. Another cold point under his ribs, he felt the energy change course within him. This stuff was fantastic.

"All done," said the accupuncturist, "you can get up now."

He tried to open his eyes, but couldn't. They were pinned shut.

On Adjuration

"In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, I command thee!" intoned the priest, "leave this place, precious in the eyes of the Lord. The power of Christ, bless His most holy name, compels thee! I banish thee, unclean spirit, back to the depths of the Abyss! Never return, for the Lord our God watches over us, and protects us from thy ilk, and his holy might shall smote thee back to Hades! Now begone!" The priest towered, his cassock unfurling like a flag, as he confronted his adversary.

"Oh all right Father," sighed the entity, "no need to get so worked up. I'll go take my bath now."

"I swear," said the priest, mopping his brow, "that boy becomes more and more like you everyday. No one from my side of the family refuses to take baths..."

"Shut up," said the Devil.

On Hamsters

Reply to Galen

When hamsters gnaw and bite
I blow them up with dynamite
But when they scamper, run and flit
It leaves no doubt; they're full of shit.

On Blood

He pushed the plam fronds, allowing himself a quick sweep of the area. Muted explosions sounded in the distance, he ignored them. The stream beside him ran crimson, he stopped and drank from it. Fingering his camouflaged uniform, he noted the rents in the fabric. He'd have to mend it as soon as he got the chance, lest his drill sergeant notice first and punish him. If his sergeant was still alive, that was.

Hearing the distant rattle of machine gun fire, he roused himself from his reverie. His rifle hung heavily from his shoulder, and the straps of his helmet discomfitted him. He had no idea where he was, lost somewhere in the jungle, surrounded on all sides by enemies.

Failing to see an alternative, he decided to go with his instincts, they had served him well thus far. Raising his nose to the wind, he drew breath, inhaling deeply the intoxicating scents. Filtering out all the ones that did not interest him, he smelled metal. It was iron, sharp and tangy, and he twitched his nose in slight irritation.

Then another scent intruded, milder, less noticeable. Sublime, the smell of calcium ran through his olfactory nerves. Quickly moving so he wouldn't lose the scent, he paced towards the source of the smells. Sniffing again, he felt something raw, primal...carbon. He could almost taste the carbon. Drawing another quick breath, he caught the whiff of oily proteins and the earthy smell of plasma.

Moving slowly and stealthily now, he felt fresh iron assualt his nerves. He knew his nose wouldn't fail him. It never had, for the scent of blood was unmistakeable. Crouching behind the trunk of a large tree, he sniffed once again, just to make sure. There was blood all right, right around the corner. Readying his rifle, he stepped around the tree, and saw the wounded soldier. He had been hit by a shell, and hd been bleeding profusely. The makeshift tourniquet had undoubtedly kept him alive, but it would ironically precipitate his death.

In the heartbeat it took him to register this, he glanced down into the pools of the wounded man's eyes, and saw there the fear reflected in knowing the enemy had arrived.

"Hi," he said brightly, inhaling deeply once more before pulling the trigger, "you smell nice."

On Baths

She gazed at his ruffled hair lovingly, watching as he played with his rubber ducky, pretending it was a monster eating his toy soldiers. Bathtimes were always a period of quiet sentimentality.

She grasped a bottle of shampoo, squeezing a long thread of shampoo out onto his hair. Using her hands she scrubbed it into his scalp, working up a good lather. Taking hold of a bar of soap, she began to clean his arms and back of any unsightly dirt. He squirmed slightly and continued playing with his ducky, making spastic little noises as he gurgled happily.

"Don't forget to wash behind your ears, honey," she said, dunking his head under the water, and holding her husband there.

On Extraterrestials

Today I saw some aliens.

They were red, with polka-dotted skin. Their eyes glowed when they talked, and the antenna on their heads kept changing colours. It appeared as if they did not have any legs; their lower torsos ending in a great mass of tendrils and gunk. Each of them had three arms, and seemed to sprout more as they became more agitated.

Trying to communicate, all I heard were muted warbles, so I politely shook my head. Two of them sprouted another arm. The warbling was getting slightly louder, but I still didn't understand them, so I tried smiling at each of them in turn. They started jumping up and down waving their ten arms frenetically.

Half an hour later, the one in front threw up his three hundred arms before saying, "Take us to your leader." I smiled, nodded, then stepped on them.

The last I heard they were served as pancakes to God, who drizzled maple syrup over them. He felt quite gassy after that, so he farted and made Earth.

On Roadkill

Somtheing truly awful happened today.

I was whizzing about in the car, and happened to glance out the window at all the pretty vehicles going by. I saw a little dog, just an average, normal, doggy-in-the-window type dog, who looked like some family had lost him.

He took a tentative step out onto the road, then went off like a rocket...straight into the path of an oncoming car. There was a screech of vulcanised rubber, an almighty crunch, a bumpity-bump as both sets of wheels rolled over the little bow-wow.

We slowed down, so I managed to get a good look at it. It was barely recognisable, there were ribs protruding like bloody stalagmites from its deflated body. There were tread marks over its stomach, and a rapidly growing pool of blood was snaking its way towards the storm drain. The weight of the car had caused the thing-formerly-known-as-dog's belly to split apart, and its innards had splattered themselves in an interesting mosaic over the road. The force of the impact had caused one of its eyes to pop out of its socket, hanging by a retina from the cracked skull, through which a purple tongue protruded.

As we rolled past, I saw from the impossible angle of the body that the cadaver's spine must have been broken in at least two places, and as we went on I glimpsed what appeared to be parts of its brain on the road, evidently the car must have drove off with the other bits.

What then, was the truly awful thing, you might ask.

Why, I didn't have a camera...

On Birthdays

Birthdays are like drugs, they make you feel really good, but too many of them and you're dead.

I've always liked birthdays. They're the perfect excuse for social gatherings and the like. A lot of people don't like birthdays, either because it reminds them they're a year older and more senile, or because it means they have to think of what to buy as a present. I used to celebrate my birthdays with real parties when I was younger, they were riotous cause celebres characterised by soapy water in the pool, curry being squirted from syringes and other messy stuff.

As I recall, once I almost drowned during one of those parties. That would have been a laugh, the birthday boy floating lifelessly in the pool.

I used to wonder why my birthdays weren't more like the birthdays you read about in Enid Blyton and the like, you know, fancy dress parties and such. One of thse days though.

My Aunt Jezebel used to say that she'd die on her birthday...I was off by a month.

On Classmates

Kudos to Wai Kit, I would do this after graduation, but I might, in all probability, forget. So I'll do it now.

1) Jonathan: Hmm...not much to say is there? A little brainless for his own good, he reminds me of those refugees who get deported from their new countries. I'll miss you...okay so maybe I won't.

2) Benjamin: Lovely sense of humour, sort of a giant funny bone with a mouth; say anything and it'll start laughing and laughing. Got to know you a lot better than I did in primary school. Of course it was hard to know anyone in primary school with Miss Ho breathing down our necks hmm?

3) Aaron: Watch that mouth, lest you step in it.

4) Zonghao: Four years a classmate and I still don't know you well. Reminds me of a rock...just there, but totally nondescript. When you're stoned, you get a little boulder. All right, you don't, I was just being polite.

5) Dalglish: Well there were good and bad times, chaotic neutral (euphemism for spineless), you've got quite a few redeeming qualities yourself, I can safely say it's been an interesting and enriching two years

6) Kiang Hu: One of those tall, quiet and handsome types, I can just imagine you playing some trench-coated assassin in a hongkong action flick.

7) Jia Jun: Computer Games Central, you seem to get your hands on everything.

8) Wei Jin: Prince of Posers, you can be entertaining in your own way sometimes. Either that or it's just the fumes addling my brains.

9) Terence: Hirsuite, rather like a yak. They should call you the Drunken Master...of Geography.

10) Xiaozheng: Prime case of debater's logic, refreshing perspectives, Mrs Sow's twin, love the laugh.

11) Wai Kit: Vertically enhanced, King of Kings; basketball, gambling, and you know what else. We had some good tuition sessions. Remember the shadow/spirit?

12) Kevin: Original Porcupine, pixie-ish ears

13) David: Fellow non-believer, great trivia-ist, exceptional conversationality

14) Me: I could fill a whole bloody page

15) Ri Hao: Truly alien in all senses of the word, Running ve-ri hao, one of the weirdest people I know (that's a compliment)

16) Wei An: Singapore's promising artist, cute (can't believe I'm using that word) in a behavioural kind of way, uber-yo-yoist, knee-deep in Japanese porn (if all accounts are to be believed)

17) Farand: CIP, had an interesting disease in the ear, vertically adjusted, could pass off as a toddler if he really tried

18) Yuda: Looks like Yuji, can be quite irritating sometimes

19) Yuji: Looks like Yuda, Mr. Ang's sister

20) Yuankai: Appalling corniness, doted upon by Lingky (rhymes with slinky), suffers from chronic pains in the nether regions (could be due to excessive lifting by a simian)

21) Wei Ren: Afore-mentioned simian, seems to be quite proficient in judo

22) Jun Bin: Another corny one, nice person inside...somewhere, great classmate of four years, can be relied upon for quite a few things, ulcer prone

23) Pak: Let's see, ambivalent, conflicted, I could quite honestly go on for quite a while, and since I doubt I'll be forgetting for quite some time, I won't write much here

24) Jeffrey: The differentiate, integrate, flemmingnising, chinese, anachronistic, certified A1 Setiawan. I've known you for quite a while, and I still have a lot of memories about your parents and you. Oh yeah, the A Math bible, one of its kind

25) Solomon: Singapore's next Olympic hope, well-defined musculature, quite nice when gotten to know

26) Alvin: Four years and increasingly irritating, love ballads, leadership arguments, NPCC

27) Hsiang Yang: Really strong for a small guy, fun to make fun of

28) Keith: Contrition is in order, but aside from that, it's been wonderful these past four years, amazing self-taught artist, great sense of humour, loves cartoons, eats weird bread, t'was a fun bonny England trip, had some hilarious times in sec. two through to this year

29) Darren: Guaranteed hilarity, doing the wrong things at the wrong time (handphone), does impressive stand-ups of Smurfs and Malays and lots of other things

30) Raymond: Evil genius that lurks under the placid exterior, sort of What Lies Beneath meets Lake Placid

31) Jonah: Looks like The Joker, extensive knowledge of rock bands

32) Daniel: Absolute epitome of goodness, would've done well in ACS, responsible, entirely respectable

33) Gabriel: We go way back, you and I, losing contact for a bit when I absconded. You're a nice sort, sometimes overly so, incredibly athletic, like that Duracell bunny that keeps going and going

34) Yongfeng: Used to be insanely annoying (then he stopped talking so much), practises judo throws on people and empty air, ex-debater

35) Justin: Good debating material, hardworking, beset with afflictions, very likeable and obliging person, quite enjoyed these past two years with you, responsible too

This is of course, an incredibly superficial once-over, there is so much more left unsaid. I might not see some of you for quite awhile, but I hope we don't lose contact; it's been fun, and immediately after the O's we could do something exciting. Righto, air of sentimentality dispelled, remember to use Ambi-Pur perfume.

On Strength

I have had firm conviction in the theory that, under great duress, people are capable of performing great feats of strength that would otherwise be impossible. I have also firmly believed that my parents never looked after me stringently enough. These two beliefs are related, by the way.

It was a fine day, my mother, grandmother, sister and I were in a Malaysian hotel room, one of those affairs with a door in the middle; an adjoining set. The three of them were watching some crummy soap on the telly, and being the inquisitive and altogether lovable six-year-old that I was, I wandered into the adjoining room. Somehow I managed to slam the door shut, and since there are no handles on the other side, I had effectively locked myself into a room.

Of course, like any respectable kid in trouble, I began bawling my head off (this was a long time ago). My mother frantically ran to the front door of my room and unlocked it....only to discover it had been latched from the inside. She called the concierge, but they were rather incompetent. Turned out the only thing they could do was knock out the door, and that would cost a few hundred dollars.

So dear mum, ever resourceful, tried to talk to me from behind a latched door, between great big wheezing sobs and sniffles. "Wey Ren, can you hear Mummy?"she asked anxiously.

My reply was a rather undignified wail.

So, she coaxed and cozened me, encouraging me to push the little foot stool from the dresser to the door, stand on it and unlatch the door. Unfortunately six-year-olds in distress tend to get slightly muddled.

After that intelligent suggestion, there was a long silence in the room, so my mother tentatively asked if I had heard her. She got a muffled sob in reply. Eventually she heard the sound of the latch being drawn back, and she turned the knob to open the door...

...Only to have it blocked by the enormous arm-chair I had somehow managed to heave from across the room.

It was an enjoyable holiday.