October 27, 2003


On the way to work today, Emily enviously remarked “Ahh… how nice it is to be a student. So many holidays.” To which I concurred “Yeah… being a student is definitely awesome. Free from so many obligations.”

The conversation reminded me of my carefree days, of being a juvenile, a walking hormone. I remember the time when I first fell in love with the daughter of a dinosaur, how I snuck to the back of the class playing soccer with a blackboard duster, and many more crazy things that I don’t get to do now.

One of the most remarkable ones – was an event when I was 17. I was Form 5 at that time, and SPM (a Malaysian public exam) was our greatest challenge. About 4 weeks before the examination, I took some initiative to go for a night study at the school – which was convenience provided by the school management for those who had problems doing it at home (nagging mom, noisy residential, etc).

I hadn’t been doing any real revision for the whole year, so, I figured I needed the super-fucking last minute download from my revision books (also as a way to mitigate the guilt of frolicking too much). Away from home meant lower risk of spontaneous TV breaks and also a quiet environment for proper revisions. Somewhat of a plan, hell yeah.

So I was at it. I was usually accompanied by a few friends. Can’t remember most of them, except a couple blokes who go by the name Dennis & Alex. We were like, really working on it. From 8pm till 11pm EVERY NIGHT (that was some unbelievable shit for my standard!). It was some serious business and it was for real… until one night, when we were paid a visit by an unexpected company. A white cat (a male cat, because I could see that it has 2 furry balls hanging its hind). We knew this white cat, he was our resident school pet. We all knew him but then he didn’t really have a name. So, I’m gonna call him Skippy here for convenience’ sake.

That night, Skippy came and purred at us in the class, as if he was asking us to play with him. It went on for quite a while, until he got really pissed because none of us hardworking tards were paying any attention to him. Desperate, he jumped up on some of the desks and started skipping around – trying to distract our attention. At one point, he even tried to rip our books off.

Seeing that the cat was so cute and fucking desperate, we finally decided to take a break and one of us gave him a little pat on his head. We were like – hey, the cat wasn’t afraid of us. It was then, Dennis did something funny – he pulled the cat’s tail, and made the cat do some funny poses, gave it a headlock etc. The cat would stay static and oblivious about everything that Dennis did. It was somewhat strange (a normal cat would have fled from this bunch of Neanderthals who had never played with a cat before).

Then Alex (or was it Dennis?, can’t remember) tried something even crazier. He took out a marker pen and drew Skippy a pair of eyebrows. Some hard laughings ensued, which startled the cat a bit. But he stayed on with us nevertheless. Then, things started to go out of control, with each of us taking turn to sign our names on the cat’s tummy and I drew a ‘peace’ sign on his forehead with that marker… but the cat’s fur absorbed the tip dry halfway. So, I changed to a ballpoint pen to complete the peace sign – I had to scrape the ballpoint pen tip slowly on the cat’s fur. And it’s kin of hard because the it was full of fur, and you have to imagine that I had to do it like I’m giving the cat a tattoo.

By the time I completed the peace sign, I was unable to continue any further – because I was overwhelmed with tears and phlegm from laughing too hard. My stomach cramped and had to curl up. The guys continued to flare their artistic prowess and gave the cat some ink. The revision on that night turned into an impromptu art lesson, on a live four legged walking canvas (coincidentally, it was white too).

In the end, Skippy would look like a 70’s hippy-style cat. Complete with peace sign, tattoo eyebrows, graffiti, you name it. A colorful and walking masterpiece. If John Lennon ever wanted a mascot for his career, Skippy would be a promising candidate.

And we ended the night early without any more revision, as we couldn’t continue after so much laughing.

Some of my friends commented that it was a case of cruelty to animals. I have no comment on that – as the cat seemed to have enjoyed every moment of the attention. That darn cat probably had never felt so important in its life. And besides, the ink and signs worn off after about a week or so, and Skippy turned back into a spanking white cat again.

michaelooi  | escapades  | 

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