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Red Mist

Took bus 852 to West Mall to watch the Turtles (TMNT) last Wednesday. It had been a bad week for me – heartburn: couldn’t breathe easily; nagging chest pains; bloated stomach; endless burping. Too much supper every night did that to me. So there I was; on the bus – slouched in my seat and wishing my heartburn away.

Three schoolboys got on. A messy group of ordinary schoolboy rebels; pimply and arrayed with quill-like hair. They plonked themselves on the seat before me; quibbling loudly in Hokkien and blared some popish yodel from their handphones.

I nearly fought with one of them.

We were almost to the terminal. I took photos indiscriminately; snapping all around. Nothing came out right – they were all elongated blurs of flesh, clothes and plastic. Bored, I stared blindly to the front; directly at one of the schoolboys seated opposite me. He’s a malnourished thing.

Schoolboy showed me his middle finger. His stare was hard. My eyes narrowed to steely silts. I sat up; jaws clenched. He wanted to start something? Fine. I’ll end him.

“What the fuck was that for asshole?”

“You take pictures of me?” Schoolboy’s got a Hokkien accent. None of his business what pictures I take. I’ll knock his teeth out. It should improve his English. 

“I took them because you are representations of normality.”

Schoolboy’s stunned. He tried another track.

“You. You like it if I take pictures of you?”

“It’s ok.”

Schoolboy couldn’t handle this. He goggled at me. Then he turned teacher to lecture wayward me.

“Maybe you don’t mind but others mind. You should… blah blah.”

The bus pulled into the terminal. It shuddered to a stop. We stood up. Schoolboy’s tiny – he barely reached my shoulder. I can pound him into the ground with one arm tied behind my back. He was still lecturing me on the injustice of it all as we got down the bus.

I turned on him, “So what are you going to do about it?”

I would break his scrawny neck. Bend him legless and armless. Pound out his teeth on concrete walls. Oh, how he will hurt. He will live. I am not a murderer. He will live with tubes that funnel in air and liquid food in exchange for pee and shit. His friends might take me out. But it’ll be far too late for Schoolboy. Oh, what will it be like to tear a human apart into red mist.

No dice.

“Oi. Forget him. Kia la!”

That’s right. Forget him. Go away for your own safety.

We about turn and walk away in opposite directions. Damn shame that red mist didn’t happen.

Categories: Observations
  1. Waynne
    September 24, 2007 at 10:21 pm

    Ur lil\’ angel cuzzie has a friend almost this rude. I would have torn her up if I were in front of her.


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