related entries :
bitter memories : the underwear incident
bitter memories : the calculator incident
bitter memories : the great escape (part I)
bitter memories : the great escape (part II)
*****
*this is a continuation from the previous entry… *
“What’s wrong, PukeMachine?” (like I said, we 9 year olds used to speak all so weird like that)
Tears began to pour out of his beady eyes, and he began to sound like some retard with speech impediment. I could hardly understand him, but from the way he looked, I reckoned that it must be something very serious. It took me about 5 over minutes to register what was happening there - he had just discovered that his school uniform shirt was missing. He was actually asking me this:
*sob sob* “Hav yu zeen my sgool univorm???? uwaaa waaaaa!”
To which I answered, “Yes”, and enjoyed that few microseconds seeing him light up like an LED display on some hippy’s cellphone from that false ray of light … His tears and mucus temporary ceased and he was looking at me like I’m supposed to lead him the rightful path to his salvation… or something like that.
“I saw it on you. You were wearing it this morning”
His wailing resumed. Hey, I was just being honest. Sure enough, it wasn’t on him at that time. All the while walking home from the creek, he had been wearing his undershirt, which was a white perforated cotton singlet he wears under his school uniform everyday. And he didn’t even know his shirt was missing until when I was about to call it a day. What the fuck indeed.
Speaking of undershirts, I really don’t understand why most kids would wear them during my school days. I mean, it’s so fucking hot around where I lived, and wearing something underneath was… is… a bad idea. When I was 9, I’m all naked underneath that layer of uniform. No underwear, nothing. Just uniform. It’s the smart people’s way of living. Had he been as pragmatic as I was, none of this could have happened - as he would have realized it’s missing, since he’s gonna be naked from the waist up, and it’ll be that much easier to realize that.
Anyway, back to PukeMachine’s woe. His school uniform was nowhere to be found. Not inside his school bag, not tucked under his pants, not stuffed inside my schoolbag either (that’s a bit ridiculous but, I searched my schoolbag nevertheless, just for the peace of his mind). If he had crowbar, he would have used it to pry open his puckering sphincter to search inside him too, but then, it’s still nowhere to be found.
So where could it be?
“PukeMachine, back at the creek, you did dip yourself in the water, right? Did you do it with your shirt on?”
He didn’t answer me. He doesn’t have to. I already knew I hit a bullseye. His reaction to that question betrayed what’s going on in his mind. The very thought of his shirt lying wasted at the base of the murky creek agitated his emotion so fucking intensely, that he had to release it by opening his mouth and let out a louder wail. He’s now looking like a kid who had just lost both his legs, his parents and several pet dogs, all at once. For the first time in my life, I felt sorry for him…
Well, the whole episode of that dramatic event actually took place at a very busy spot, where there were a lot of passer-bys. And because PukeMachine was bawling like he’s not gonna see tomorrow, it kinda grabbed a lot of unwanted attention (it was embarassing yeah). Just as I was getting real uneasy about the mounting attention, a middle aged shapeshifter materializes out of nowhere to offer PukeMachine some sympathy.
She then asked him in that goosebump inducing buttery tone, her hand draping across PukeMachine’s shoulder… “What’s the matter, little boy? Why are you crying? Tell aunty why…”
I was about to reveal that we’ve been skipping school, swam at a creek, and how PukeMachine’s shirt is now lying at the bottom of the creek as a sanctuary for stray catfish to have sex… playing an important part in some marine ecosystem… But eventually, I decided not to. Instead, I had an idea that it might be good to let them catch up their good old times together without me.
So I chose to bail. I bade a quick insincere farewell, and made a beeline to where I was suppose to go minutes earlier, leaving that stranger with my still crying best friend (evarrrr). I did not feel very good about it at first, but then, I managed to convince myself to see things at an optimistic angle. Who knows? that nosy hag might buy PukeMachine a brand new school uniform? And send him home? (in exchange for sex?) It’ll be better for him, because there’s basically nothing I can do to help him. So, fuck it.
The next morning, I was all nervous about school again. I was worried about all the things that had occurred the way it weren’t supposed to. Questions kept popping up in my troubled thoughts - did PukeMachine survive his trip home from that imaginary pedophile? Did his mom find out about our school skipping operation? And the most important of all, what to expect from my class teacher after skipping a day off and failing to summon our parents?
I found out soon enough. Miraculously, PukeMachine was all smiling on that day. He told me he lied to his mom about misplacing his school shirt somewhere after feeling too hot. Probably cried somemore to add credibility to his story
“Then what about your trip home? How long did it take for you to complete the journey?”
He bragged that it only took him another half an hour or so, and his mom did not suspect anything. I think he lied. But what do I care, really, at least he wasn’t kidnapped by that weird shapeshifter or gotten ass raped by rabid stray dogs (come to think of it, how I wished he was kidnapped, or at least ass raped by something).
But the most surprising thing that happened that day, was that the class teacher seemed to have forgotten all about the calculator incident, and didn’t ask us or anyone about it. She was all smily too, just like PukeMachine’s cold, lifeless and spastic smirk. It was as if… nothing had happened.
