October 18, 2010

the midget’s son

You know, people often say certain songs remind you of your certain past. Very true for me, eg. :
– whenever I hear Enigma’s ‘Beyond The Invisible’, I will think of the night I first hold my wife’s (girlfriend then) hand on a beach…
– whenever I hear The New Radicals’ ‘You Get What You Give’, I will think of the day I got my first car…
– whenever I hear The Beatles’ ‘The Sun King’ in their Abbey Road’s medley, I will think of the day I became jobless…

But the other day, a song called ‘Lambada’ came on air on the radio, and it immediately reminded me of my neighbor’s son (about my age) back in my ghetto-ish neighborhood when I was a kid. I didn’t know him very well, but I remember us hanging out a few times with some other kids before. I don’t even know his name till this day, just called him ‘the midget’s son’. Why ‘the midget’s son’? Well, his parents were midgets and the family ran a convenient store nearby (and my mom knew his midget mom very well so…), and the name just stuck – the midget’s son.

Then my family moved away from the slum neighborhood around 1989, so I totally lost my contact with all my childhood ‘friends’. It wasn’t until 1994 when I stumbled into the midget’s son riding a Honda cub 70cc motorcycle, near where I was living. His bike was an eyesore. It was cosmetically heavily modified – you know, chromed balancers, sawed off chain box, souped up absorbers, chromed everything, horsepower increasing stickers, noisy exhaust pipe, just a lot of noise without substance. But the most fucked up thing of all was when he braked that piece of junk, the whole bike would light up like it was trying to communicate with some extra terrestrial civilization from the outer fucking space, and at the very same time, the ‘Lambada’ song would blare out from its giant electronic buzzer – and that was how the song kinda latched on to my memory, partly linking him with it.

Then he was unseen again until about a couple years later, when I saw him speeding in a red Yamaha Sports 100cc – which was a more powerful bike, also the same bike I had – and I thought to myself, he finally got some sense and taste into him. But about a few days later, my mom broke a rather shocking news to me, “Hey, you remember that midget’s son? He got into an accident and he’s in a coma now.” And then I went “Wtf I just saw him a couple days ago!” (like it wouldn’t have happened if I have seen him, duh). And what’s even more bizarre, he actually hit an old lady who lived behind our house (at the new residence). So the situation was like, my ex neighbor hit my new neighbor, and both of them went into coma. Then came the shocker – the old lady died, and midget’s son followed a week later, without ever regaining consciousness. According to my mom, the midget’s son had a row with his midget parents just a couple months earlier, for not buying him this ‘more powerful bike’. He wanted the bike so bad that he threw his tantrum by kicking things around the house (like a spoilt brat). Not wanting to see their son being so stucked up in the ass, the midget couple eventually relented and bought him the bike. Big mistake. He’s dead now.

During his wake, I quietly rode my Yamaha Sports 100cc to the funeral parlor at night to pay him the last respect, and I saw his brother folding some joss paper for him, probably for bribing some hell officers to let him ride a ghost bike in the underworld. Then I said to myself, “Man I can’t fucking believe the midget’s son is dead…”. It’s always like that when someone my age dies.

His blood still taints the yellow box paint at the accident site intersection till this day. Kinda seeped into it. So, whenever ‘Lambada’ plays, instead of thinking of sweaty seductive Latino chicks grinding my drunken cock in a dance bar somewhere, I’ll think of the midget’s son, his stupid bike, his tragic accident, and this creepy ass blood stain.

michaelooi  | flashbacks  | 

13 Comments to “the midget’s son”

  1. littleComma says:

    oh dear … I’ll think of your story if I ever hear the lambada song. Creepy…. But sad. Especially it’s someone u know, used to play together and bumped into recently.

  2. cLiu says:

    i dunno wat to leave as comment after read ur post. life…

  3. ShaolinTiger says:

    Lambada or La Bamba 0_o

    Sad story tho, always sucks when someone you know croaks.

  4. PakChengPoh says:

    yes, the midget’s son…
    It was creepy the way he went a week after the old lady passed away..
    most of us staying in the “slums” knew that story..
    Thanks for bringing back the memories.

  5. michaelooi says:

    PakChengPoh – Hey man, glad to see a fellow neighbor from the good old slum here

  6. PakChengPoh says:

    Anytime bro!

  7. Eric says:

    Pak Cheng Poh – That’s the Rifle Range Flats. The Eh Kiah shop on ground floor of one of the blocks (same side at the ang thau ping camp). It can be called a ‘ghetto’, sure had unsavoury reputation in 80’s & early 90’s, particularly about phai kiahs – don’t know about know. But the place & surrounding residential suburbs has got a few pretty decent makan places, if you know how to find them.

    Sorry Mike, your topic today got me all nostalgic – especially the Lambada song.

  8. michaelooi says:

    Wow, so many ‘pak cheng poh’ neighbors here!

  9. Dangerous Variable says:

    Sometimes I don’t know how I survived on my C70 and then V100 riding around Penang’s suicidal drivers and the yellow buses. Lost a few friends on Green Lane during my school years though…

  10. xes says:

    RIP..midget’s son…and old lady that lived behind your house.

  11. EinsamSoldat says:

    lambada or lambaba… it kinda sounds kinda like lam pah puah LOL

  12. michaelooi says:

    I’m surprised many of you have not heard of ‘Lambada’.

  13. Dangerous Variable says:

    gyrating latin asses…

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