July 28, 2006

bitter memories : the ralph in him

PukeMachine, like I’ve said before, I’ve seen him hurt himself many times when we were kids. Far too many times to be just average. Far too many times to be just stupid. PukeMachine, the epitome of stupidity…

Here are a few more of his preposterous acts :

playing with explosives
Firecrackers were pretty much legal back then. One fine weekend during the school holidays, PukeMachine decided to make a bomb for himself. What he did was – he unrolled those little red firecrackers to salvage its volatile powder, and burned a bunch of it at close range. Now, any normal kid with an average wit wouldn’t have deemed this as a good idea… no matter how fun it’s gonna be. All except for PukeMachine. He thought that it was a fun thing to do… and hurt himself pretty bad from the explosion.

His face was almost completely healed when he returned to school after the holidays, but was still bad enough for most of us to notice that both his eyebrows were cleanly burnt off, and the epidermal layer of his face carbon black, with some random peelings on his temple. When asked about it, he would simply claim that he was accidentally scalded by boiling water, but later, confessed to me (his best friend evarrrr) that his injury was inflicted by a homemade bomb. Everyone found out about it after that. (thanks to me)

the finger trick
PukeMachine came to me one morning, and told me that he discovered something awesome. I was like “yeah? what is it?” and he showed me one of his fingers. It was blistering at the region right above the fingernail. I asked “what happened to your finger?”. He then told me, “Mike, if you repeatedly rub your skin like this, the skin would come off! How awesome is that! Try it man… it’s fun”. He was chafing his own skin off and thought that it was fun.

I didn’t ask why would he do that for, nor did I question the sanity of that act. I just pretended that I was very impressed with his ‘discovery’ and told him I’m gonna chafe all the skin on my finger that night, and I would show him tomorrow. But of course I didn’t. He showed up the next morning with blisters on all his fingers, some even had dried blood still caked on it. I just bluffed him that I couldn’t get my skin off and he dissed me off like I was the dumbest fart on the planet for not partaking that skin chafing fun. Now that I think of it, he kinda reminded me of Ralph Wiggum.

cursed bicycle
PukeMachine was our class goalkeeper. Not that he’s good or anything, but because he was big enough to block a large portion of the goal box. He had a nickname to go with his goal keeping, “slippery fish catcher” – attributed to his clumsiness in catching even a slow rolling ball. But that was not relevant to what I intend to share here (but important to justify why he was chosen for the goalkeeping role).

Anyway, one day, he failed to show up for the class soccer tournament. Cellphones weren’t invented yet back then, and we were made to wait for the goalkeeper that never came. We then had to proceed the game with the reserve goalkeeper. Apparently, PukeMachine met an accident on the way to the game and broke his arm in two. There weren’t any details spared to give us an idea how the hell he managed to break his arm from a bicycle accident. He just said ‘he fell off’.

But I didn’t believe him. You don’t break your arm when you fall off a goddamn bicycle. Unless your bicycle is 3 storeys high or capable of speeding like a fucking motorcycle. He probably rode off a cliff or something, but I’m just speculating. He could have broken his arms from jumping off his apartment unit. For the fun of it.

cursed bicycle 2
I once asked to join in a bicycle trip with PukeMachine and my other classmate, Johnny, into gallivanting around a rural housing area which was known for its intricate network of dirt tracks. Because I wasn’t really familiar with that area, PukeMachine and Johnny would have to guide me around, lest I might get myself lost or something.

And that’s what PukeMachine did, or at least attempted to do – to take advantage of that situation to abandon me and then to live out to tell the tale about my misfortune. So, he rode faster, in hope that I won’t be able to catch up the lead and got myself lost in that maze of dirt tracks. But little did he realize that his bicycle didn’t have much traction on those dirt tracks, and he got himself gliding down at the first corner (just like how that T1000 cyborg glided on that overturned liquid nitrogen truck in Terminator 2), and landed flat right in front of a family relaxing on a bench, all who stared down at him like they’ve just witnessed a UFO landing right in front of their yard.

No he didn’t break his arm this time, just his pride, as Johnny and I laughed squarely at his face and spread the news like wildfire the next day.


Just thought of sharing all these so that you kids will not make the same mistakes like PukeMachine uncle did…

michaelooi  | escapades  | 

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