I’m sitting right here, in the middle of my awakening hours, in the dark, listening to some of my neighbours’ stupid dogs barking like they’ve just saw their doggie team won a World Cup or something. Fuck, I hate dogs. I mean, I like dogs generally… but sometimes, I fucking hate them. Just like what I’m feeling right now. I so fucking want to pepper spray a dog at this very moment now. Maybe grate its head with a sandpaper and duct tape a few tablespoons of salt on that wound. Or fuck, I’d just duct tape the whole damn animal on my neighbour’s car exhaust manifold and let it die a slow painful death. Motherfucking dogs. [going to sleep now]

A new menace has hit the Malaysian society. Mat Rempit. For those of you who are unfamiliar with this term, it is a local Malay slang name to describe illegal motorcycle racers. They’ve actually been around for many years, known to roam around in the wee hours of the morning - usually in big groups, organizing illegal races on common streets and perform death defying stunts for kicks.

But this has changed as of recent. Their ‘kicks’ are no longer confined to just illegal racings and stunts. They’ve became bolder and more dangerous, thanks to the lack of local law enforcement. They’re now ‘franchising’ a wider coverage for all of us to worry about - larceny, robbery, assault and even RAPE - all in one package. (Not long ago, there were even reports that some of them rained a storm of stones into a police station for detaining a few of their members.) They’re like swarms of nocturnal parasites, one that is able wear guises like a normal human to blend into the society during daytime and turn into feral creatures after dark, spreading havoc across the nation like a layer of spoilt peanut butter. (read more about them here - antimatrempit.blogspot.com

So, has there been any effort from the authorities to rectify this Mat Rempit problem? Apparently, yeah. Somekind of effort. Many months ago, one of the local political party - UMNO youth or something - proposed to organize more recreational activities for those Mat Rempits in hope to recycle them into something useful. I thought the authorities are going to coax them into a mass suicide event, then use their bodies to reclaim some lands for development (which would be good…). But no. They’re actually talking about gatherings, roadtrips and seminars for these criminals. Like those guys are going to repent by just listening. (I thought that has already been covered at schools and mosques? Whatever.) There were even suggestions to build more racing circuits for these illegal racers to ‘let off their steam’… with our tax money, I suppose. What the fuck, man.

I wonder what’s the real reason behind all these ’soft’ approach to tackle the Mat Rempits. Was the leniency a politically or racially motivated one? If those Mat Rempits were to be comprised of… say… Chinese Ah Bengs, or Bhais… or perhaps foreign workers… would the authorities have acted differently? Nobody knows. The excuse that we often hear from them - They’re our future leaders maa… it’s unfair to look at them in a negative light… we shouldn’t neglect them as a society… bla bla bla. Yeah, why don’t we give these Mat Rempits some money to buy a car, so that we don’t need to worry about them riding anymore? Or perhaps even give them a good meal while we’re at that… offer them our homes as well… What a brilliant way to counter social decadence. (That’s what happens when you have illiterate politicians bersandiwara. I have one word for these people - Phordahhhh!).

The fact is, somebody ought to come up with something more aggressive than just recreational activities, seminars and monetary fine. Something more credible. The logic says, when a group of people begin to challenge the authorities and endanger the public, they are basically asking for troubles. They are not ‘lost’ or anything like that. They are the scums that went rogue despite all the education and teachings that has been given to them. They’re criminals. You don’t organize seminars for criminals and let them get away with it. You make them pay for their crimes. I’m talking about longer jail term, more cane strokes or hell, even ISA for all I care - just whatever to make them understand - that crime does not pay. You flout the law, you’re gonna have to face the penalty and lose your future. Like their popular idiom - siapa makan cili, dialah yang kongkek pedas. It’s that simple. Why can’t the authorities start taking actions already (get military or FRU support if necessary. We don’t feed them soldiers with our tax money to just wreck helicopters and herd stadium crowds).

Until the menace is gone, you people will just have to be extra careful out there. Refrain from going out late at night, and keep all your emergency phone numbers in handy. May the force be with you.

What do you usually do at home on weekends, if not going out? I bet it’s more or less something to do with relaxation. Watch some DVDs, read some books, play with your kid… you know, just a time of your own to get out of that hectic life at work. A time for you to balance out your psyche, so that you don’t turn into a fucking psycho or something.

But yesterday, I was forcefully mugged off that ‘time of my own’, when a new tenant who had just moved into the unit below my apartment (yes, another new tenant) started to drill his walls and woke my infant daughter up from her afternoon nap (I myself was interrupted from watching a movie). I wasn’t particularly too happy about that, since it has been regulated by the apartment management that renovation works are only allowed during weekdays between 9am - 5pm. That was why I played hero and went down to confront the new tenant, and hoped that the perturbance can be mitigated through some negotiation.

The tenant turned out to be a Malay family and the main villain was a middle aged balding guy with facial hair. It was as if somebody had casted a spell on him to reverse the hair growth on his head or something. Anyway, the guy was apologetic and spoke fluent English. He was like, issuing a dozen “sorry” in a single sentence, which kinda made me felt a bit like a jerk for a moment there. But I pressed on with my original mission anyway - I bitched to him, politely,

a) that I didn’t plan to spend the whole Saturday afternoon listening to his contractor frolicking with power tools.
b) It’s the regulation of the apartment block that no renovation works should take place during the weekends.

And a whole bunch of shits about how uncool it is to be an inconsiderate neighbour like him etc - in a diplomatic way.

He apologized again (apologies came out of him like an unstoppable diarrhea that it sounded so damn trite to me) and assured it would be over with just a couple more holes to drill. Sorry, sorry and sorry again. Yeah fuck, like I have a choice. I told him that there’s nothing I can do but to tolerate for ‘a couple more holes’ and went back to my pad and mope. The time was 1pm.

The drillings went on as expected and lasted for about half an hour, until I heard someone knocked at my door, it was Mr Sorry.

Mr.Sorry : “Errr I’m really sorry that I have to inconvenient you again… I need to drill this ONE final big hole and I thought of asking if you would mind that… bla bla bla sorry bla bla sorry bla bla”

Me: “Uh ok. Whatever. Just get it all done at one shot, so that it’ll all get over soon”

Like, what’s a hole or two to me, since he had already fucking drilled and spoilt half of my afternoon? I was just being reasonable… and I tolerated more. By 3pm, the drilling finally stopped and I got my peace. I managed to finish my movie and Regine got to have her nice afternoon nap. Everything went back to how it was supposed to be.

And it went well until about 5.30pm, I was playing with Regine, when suddenly, the loud sound of the drill blared through our apartment unit **PRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAK** - jolted the bejesus out of Regine and made her bawl like there’s no tomorrow. My heart shrunk immediately and I had to hold her tight to pacify her. Man, words cannot describe how hurt I felt seeing her screaming and trembling like that. It took me 10 minutes to get her shits together again and put her in her mommy’s arms. I then stomped down to Mr.Sorry’s den to settle the score.

Me: “WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT??? HAVE YOU GOT ANY IDEA WHAT IT DID TO MY INFANT DAUGHTER???”

He was with 3 of his kids when I shouted at him. Again, he was full of apologies.

Mr. Sorry: “Oh I’m really sorry, the contractor bla bla bla… sorry bla bla bla…”

I wanted to continue shouting right there and then, but I was uncomfortable doing it in front of his kids. I did not want to make that man lose his dignity in front of them, so I asked him to haul his ass out for a face-off,

Me: “I’m not going to do this in front of your kids. You come out here and we talk.”

He came out, but I didn’t talk. I shouted.

Me: “WHAT THE FUCK WAS WRONG WITH YOU!?!?!?”

Mr. Sorry: “I’m really sorry… bla bla bla sorry…”

This time, I didn’t hold back the formality of being a nice neighbour. I yelled at the motherfucker at the top of my lungs and I fired unkind words with no holds barred. I was flipped out. Seriously, I wasn’t expecting anything from him right at that time. I just wanted to yell and let him know that I’m very pissed. One of the contractors came out a moment later (who happened to be a faghag), and I turned to yell at her, in vulgar Hokkien language. It completely freaked everyone out. I looked like an animal who had gone loose on the head. Whatever. But for anyone who is understanding enough, he would have figured that this is actually the natural daddy instinct at play. Just like a nasty bear. You hurt his cub, he’s gonna fucking swat your brains out.

I eventually cooled down and went back to my apartment, had a quiet moment to myself (yeah, it was effective, the drilling work never resumed) to reflect back, if this could have been solved in a more amicable way. It couldn’t have. I tried my best to be nice, but that asshole made things complicated himself. Had he been a wee bit considerate enough to adhere to the apartment block regulations, he would have avoided the conflict altogether. (not to mention how he abused the word ’sorry’ just to pave a pathetic excuse to drill more holes on his fucking walls).

Later in the evening, I stumbled into Mr.Sorry again when I was buying dinner for Emily, and we shook hands. This time, we did some formal introductions. He asked about my occupation (which I find a bit odd) and he in turn, told me that he was working at a university nearby. Maybe a professor of somekind (which makes it even harder to justify for the fuck-up he did). However, when he was about to leave the elevator to his floor, he issued the final apology - which I find was the most sincere (what the heck, he finished the drilling, DUH) and that was when I actually accepted his apology… (but I did that because it suddenly came to my senses that my car’s newer and more expensive than his… if you get my drift).

What do you get when you cross a bunch of ignoramuses with another bunch of shitfucks in an overdue celebration of Deepavali? You get a fat mess of public nuisance and annoyances that stink. That’s what you get. And it happened right here inside my apartment compound. Fire in the hole.

Last night, I had to yell from my balcony at a bunch of Indian kids playing with loud firecrackers at an ungodly hour. Those obnoxious Indian kids of my neighbours’, from that belated late night open house party. They’ve been bombing up the neighbourhood for days. Those kids won’t light them firecrackers during daytime, and they won’t do it when the nights were young. But they’d only do it when my infant daughter had gone to bed and everyone’s getting a good rest for work on the next day. Bunch of motherfucking degenerates.

I really don’t understand what was wrong with these people. I thought Deepavali is suppose to be ‘the festival of light’? But last night, it was more like ‘the festival of light, explosions and toxic smoke’ (you should see the amount of smoke wafting into my apartment, it’s un-fucking-believable). The most intriguing of all, would be the question on WHY did they do it inside the apartment compound… Why didn’t they just go somewhere else to do their detestable undertakings? Like a rubber plantation or something?

That’s why I had to yell at them. Call me a party pooper or a spoilsport, but I’m not the type who believes that having your own celebration warrants you the right to be irrational and insensitive to others. You can drink till your liver ruptures or you can organize an orgy with your relatives, nobody cares. But you don’t just light up some explosive shits right in front of your neighbours’ windows and expect them to fucking share your joyous Deepavalic moment. You’d be a retard if you think that anyone would be feeling jovial about that. (hell, it’s not even LEGAL to light up a firecracker!)

Man, this is really getting into me. These inter-neighbours relation thing, just isn’t my kind of game. To me, they’re more like reasons for me to become a misanthrope. The whole thing’s a negative experience for me. I don’t like it at all.

Maybe I was destined to live in a bungalow. Isolated in my own piece of land, without having to contend with fucked up people. I’d rear a few mean ass dogs to keep visitors away and I’m going to be all peaceful at my own home. If only I could afford that kind of luxury…

Either that, or I’m gonna have to consider dwelling in some jungles with wild animals. But there’ll be no guarantee if the animals are going to behave better than my neighbours… (but at least I know they won’t fucking light up any firecrackers…)

You know what could be more annoying than someone trying to fake an English (or American) accent? Adding an ‘errrrrrr’ in the middle of his speech. You know, with emphasis on the long R at the end of the expression by fluttering the tip of the tongue against the palate. Elliot the idiot does that all the time.

It was as if inserting that ‘errrrrr’ expression would make one believe that he’s supposed to have some Western accent or something… FUCKKKK!!!!

He was recently hired to replace Rod’s place (I know… of all people… it had to be him…), and that was why he moved to the desk behind mine. And every goddamned awakening minute, I had to contend with his ‘errrr’ expression like it was part of his speech impediment (that’s because he’s always on the fucking phone for some weird reasons).

I so fucking feel liek grabbing the nearest pot of cactus (which I can spot one on Jude’s desk next to mine right now…) and shove it down Elliot the idiot’s throat and repeatedly pummel the hump down his neck to maximize the side effects… while yelling “Errr somemore… errr somemore! You motherfucking cheebye piece of worthless clinical waste!”. After that, I’m gonna gouge his eyeballs out, and crush them by repeatedly stomping them under my feet. Once he’s down and immobile, I’ll stab him dead with my coffee spoon, and spit at his corpse. Then I’ll drag him by the hook into the toilet and drain his blood dry… before mutilating him into a thousand pieces and feed it to mob of stray iguanas at the contaminated creek behind Company X.

I feel better now…