On Irish Cream, Idiosyncrasies and Insanity

The following is a true story.

The story has been changed but the names are preserved.

***Prologue***

Sweat. Lots and lots of it. On my shirt, in my hair, on my hands and everywhere -- it was almost a choral refrain ringing hollowly through Ed's skull as he trudged wearily out of City Hall Station into the searing, sweaty, sultry Singapore Saturday mid-day heat. Heat that students returning from London had grown completely unaccustomed to. Ed heard the sizzling of a pigeon roasting on the sidewalk nearby and quickened his pace. The green man across the road flashed. Ed shyly averted his eyes and crossed, stopping briefly to make way for a traffic light as it hurried lightly by.
Shade. Suddenly the air temperature dropped 10 degrees and Ed's heat-scorched cerebral hemispheres gradually came back to life. He looked up and beheld a Sign from Above. Seattle... Coffee... Co.
What?? Here in Singapore? Cannot be lah. Everybody knows Seattle belongs in London, not Singapore! Ed paused for a moment to reflect on this enigmatic statement, only to find images of cool, frothy frappuccinos floating invitingly into his thoughts. He put his hand to the door and saw the Object of his Desire stretched seductively before him. She was tall, thin, cool, curvy and leant slightly against the wall... a picture of Seattle's infamous Iced Latte. That sure would hit the spot, he thought.

***Canis Major***

Spot raised his head weakly and whined at the White Mercedes Taxi disappearing into the distance, as the life ebbed from his paws to his tail. The ah-beng Knight-Rider lights in the rear window winked mockingly at him.

***AntiLogue***

A bead of sweat slid slowly down the side of Ed's face and fell gracefully with a dull plop into his Iced Irish Cream Mocha. He drank gratefully -- coffee this good belonged, until now, on the corner of Carnaby Street, London.

***Navigator***

"Oh! We're finally here! I didn't think we were going to make it."
"Sorry lah. I can't believe they moved that horse cart on Leicester square. So inconsiderate -- don't they know that people like me take our bearings from the most mobile objects around in sight? It's called the Localised Object Sighting Technique (LOST) for navigating. Otherwise how to find somewhere as ulu as Seattle Coffee Co, Carnaby Street?"
"Ok ok. Shaddap. Erm, excuse me, one Iced Irish Cream Mocha please."

***Explorer***

It was Time. Ed put down his drink and stared gravely into space. Write an article for the yearbook or else we will come over and mess up your place bad, they had told him. Co-eds ONE and TWO could be merciless when they needed to be. Ed sighed, took out his RI(tm) foolscap paper and began writing feverishly, pausing from time to time to gnaw thoughtfully on his red Pilot V5 pen.

***Skywalker Loo***

Loo Skywalker faced his opponent grimly with his teeth clenched. The air was deathly still; the atmosphere tense. Stock still his opponent stood, tall, dark and menacing -- the formidable Da-Vader, leader of the Imperial College Blade Hockey Gang forces. A sudden sharp hissing broke the silence as two lightsabres blazed simultaneously to life. Neither man moved a muscle as they stood, eyes intently locked, barely breathing, both waiting for the other to make the first move. Nary a sound was there to be heard, save for the eerie hums of their lightsabres. Suddenly, a loud ringing noise emanated from Vader's belt. Vader looked down for a moment, and then, in a blindingly fast motion only a fully-trained Jedi Master is capable of, snatched something from his belt and raised it to his ear.
"Hallo? Siang ka pager..."

***Take Two***

"No, no, NO! This is GARBAGE. Who wants to read some lame story about Princess Lee-ah and the underground SDP rebel movement. And Season's nutritious Death Spas destroying civilisations and taking over the universe..." Co-Ed ONE spluttered to a halt and glared at Ed. ONE crumpled the RI(tm) paper up and hurled it to the floor in disdain. So much for an entire afternoon's work.
"Go and write something our people will want to READ!!! Write a romance or something."

***Ivan Hor***

Sir Ivan Hor of the House of Hor Fun knelt before his lady. "Oh, Ivan" she breathed. He slowly raised his head and gazed intently into her eyes. She was beautiful, with her head slightly bowed and the trace of a smile playing provocatively about the corners of her lips. Her eyes laughed and shone with Life. A stray wisp of hair straggled down the left side of her face, and she reached carelessly up to brush it away. Time stood still for an instant, before reaching backwards to scratch once more. Ivan glared at his trusty dog Time for spoiling the moment, before returning his attention to his Lady. He realised that this was The Woman that he would protect and cherish, that he would give his life for if need be. Indeed, verily he was to do battle with the Black Knight Sir ERP of ALShire a few days later, fighting in the name of his Lady, Hei Bee of KhongGuanBiscuithamlet. He was to Pay with his Life...

***Take Three***

"What is this?!!! It's absolute CRAP! How are our readers going to identify with this Ang-Moh-rised story? Where's the local context!!! Nonono... go back and write another story, and this time GET IT RIGHT!" Co-Ed ONE rolled his eyes resignedly at Co-Ed Two as if to say "He's Hopeless (Lah)".
Ed sighed as he watched ONE destroy yet another piece of authentic RI(tm) paper. IT fell slowly to the floor of the MRT train, coming to rest lifelessly against the three-inch platform-enhanced foot of a typical vertically-challenged Singaporean female. There were no seats on this train, leading Ed to wonder if perhaps the currency crisis was hitting the region even harder than his government had predicted. Either that or the Great Singapore Workout was approaching. He wistfully watched the scenery fly by as he enjoyed his last moments as a free man before returning to the chore that was consuming what was left of his summer holidays... writing a Story for the Readers.

***Kucinta***

Bengnedict Goh looked earnestly across the table at the woman sitting opposite him. This was his chance, his day. The fortune teller (ok lah just his mother) had told him that magic was in the air today, and to take all the chances he could. Naturally he had done what was only sensible and bought 4D immediately... but now he as here and here was now. He wanted to tell this fine figure of a female (or rather, this female with a fine figure) how much she meant to him. He wanted to overwhelm her with his deepest emotions and bring her back to the warmth of his home. Unfortunately, unlike his not-too-distant relatives, he couldn't just bop her over the head with a club and drag her back to his cave, for several reasons, the foremost being that concealed weapons are illegal in Singapore. And caves have been replaced by HDB flats due to their unsanitary and unaesthetic appearance.
"Elian har, I lup you deep deep. Really really I donch know how to say, but here -- I write you pome. You read."

Your beautiful face no fight, 
Silky hair everybody like,
Your hose figure no horse run,
Big big eyes, small small mouth, cannot tahan,
One word, marry wife, follow wife,
marry cat follow cat,
You go there, I go there.
If you are the moon, I'm the star beside you.
If you are a flower, I'm the leaf of your flower,
When you exercise, I'm your sweat at the armpit,
If you are shit, I'm the fly,
When you are bathing, I'm the soap,
To sky mountain sea corner,
You are my woman this lifetime.

"Wah Bengnedict, I never know you so talentful!"
Bengnedict gathered his courage and asked the unthinkable.
"Elian... will you... will you... come lancing with me at Jouk tonite?"
Elian was touched by this display of tenderness. Her emotions welled up from within her ample bosom and burst forth from her rosebud lips, giving her the eloquence of ten WP members (on steroids).
"Oh... Bengnedict."
Kucinta, the Singapore Love Cat who had been sitting under the Newton Hawker Centre table the whole time gnawing on a fish bone got up and stalked off in disgust. Humans!

***Take Forever***

"WAH LAU EH. So mushy. Our readers will be grossed out." Co-Ed TWO waggled her finger disapprovingly at Ed. 
"No. You can do better than this."
The RI(tm) paper-ball hit the floor of the bus-stop hard and rolled a couple of inches before being obliterated under the tired of SBS bus service 170.

***Slamming Doors / Forever Faster***

"NOooooooooo!" Gwenneth Paltry moaned as she raced for the closing MRT doors, arm outstretched in an expression of utter dismay and agony.
"Toot toot toot" the train laughed at her, doors hissing.
"AWwwwrrrrroooogaaaaaaahhhh" she yelled as the doors slammed shut on her arm. Some people within the carriage looked up from their newspapers disinterestedly for a moment, before going back to the New Face on page XX of their New Papers.
SBS 170 driver retiree, Load Langster Chiong, now train Security Officer noticed Gwenneth's predicament. He grimaced for a moment, then signalled for the driver to get a move on; they were going to be late and then he wouldn't get to join the other tSOs for coffee-break
"Haaaaalp!" Gwenneth screamed as she was dragged along by the accelerating train. Faster and faster it raced, picking up speed until the advertisements on the wall became streaks of light. Gwenneth hollered as she saw the end of the station Wall come rushing up to meet her obscenely quickly...

***SPLAT!***

Bang! The door to Ed's room fell in with a crash, and dozens of blue-uniformed men led by police Inspector Elian Tay swarmed all over Ed in slow-motion, doing fancy kung-fu moves as they came even though he just sat there gaping. Inspector Tay drew her pistol and opened fire, shooting wide by 200m and killing Kucinta (who had been hiding under a garbage can in the apartment block opposite), the only one of his kind, instantly. She holstered her pistol and assumed her most wayang pseudo-karate/taekwondo/jujitsu/mitsubishi stance, kicking air prettily a few times with ballet-choreographed gracefulness and almost losing her balance in the process due to her shiny new surgically-enhanced assets.

***News on Five***

"And today on the news, police have apprehended serial litterbug Ed Bo-Liao after an extensive nation-wide search. Aside from being charged with dirtying our clean-and-green environment, Bo-Liao has also been found guilty of creating sub-standard, sensibility-offending subversive short-stories. Although the penalty in our country for these charges is Death, followed by 255 strokes of the rotan to the buttocks, the High Court has ruled that Ed is obviously insane having read samples of his work. He is currently being remanded in the Woodbridge Hospital pending re-trial."

***The End***

Ed's eyes gradually came back into focus as the sedative wore off. Two blurry white-coated figures stood at the end of his bed, merging slowly into a single entity. The title on her badge declared her to be Miss C, a medical student. She was tall, charming and had Magic in her eyes. There was something about her that he couldn't put words to... she had a certain Grace about her. She tilted her head sideways and winked.
"Mr Liao! We've been expecting you... welcome to our parlour, said the spider to the fly..."
Great. Another wise-cracker. Just what I need, Ed thought. Somehow he knew by the sparkle in her eyes that she was laughing silently at him in her head. She was simply beautiful. Ed fell in love with her instantly. He wanted desperately to tell her the Truth, for her to believe him and understand that he had been driven to everything he'd done by forces beyond his control; he wanted to tell her all about ONE and TWO. He struggled desperately up to a sitting position.
"I'm not mad, Miss C. Really, I was set up".
Miss C. smiled.
"Yeahyeahyeah, that's what they all say. Now just lie still and shut up, this injection isn't going to hurt you a bit..."

***The end***
***(no, really)***
***(stop reading lah)***
***(boliao)***
***(ok, this is IT)***
***(Finis)***

-- Taken from the UCL Singaporean Society Yearbook, Summer 1998