I told Emily that I was going out to have only a couple of drinks with the guys last night and will be back before midnight. But we turned out to have 20 over jugs of beer and hung out until almost 3 in the morning. Henry, my driver buddy for the evening, got especially wasted, thanks to his uncanny urge to drink like a psychotic camel.
So, being the more sober one between us two, I was automatically delegated with the task to drive the car home. The plan was to go back to my place first and he’d drive himself home from my place thence, which was just a couple clicks away.
The journey however, did not go as smooth as I had hoped for. On the way home, while I was waiting for a red light at an intersection, Henry suddenly beckoned for a code red attention,
“Dude, you need to pull over somewhere and let me out. I think I’m gonna puke”
Having experienced grave situations like this before, I knew that I do not have the luxury of time to look for suitable place for him to hurl. The vehicle had to be stopped pronto. But because we were still stopping for the red, I couldn’t just let him alight and hurl on the middle of the road. It will be dangerous because the traffic’s full of drunken bastards at that wee hour in the morning. So we kinda wasted a few precious seconds there until the light went green, with the deadly concoction of beer and yong tou foo (which we had earlier inside the pub) brewing inside his throat, ready to explode anytime soon.
Once the light went green, I floored past the intersection and pulled over the shortest distance possible at the curb… and coincidentally ended up stopping in front of a bus stop shelter. Henry wasted no time. He quickly swung the door open and leaped out from the car like he was about to pull a highway robbery stunt. I did the same because I was suppose to look out for my buddy at his most vulnerable state, lest he got attacked by stray dogs or something. And when I was scampering round the car to my friend’s aid, I took notice of a middle aged vagrant madman schlepping towards the bus stop shelter. I think he is a ‘vagrant madman’ because
a) he has a long hairstyle that looks like Reshmonu. Only that his wasn’t dread locked, but waxed with accumulated filth and gunk.
b) his dresscode is best described as ‘zombie fad’. You know, torn rags and stuff?
c) he was talking to himself when I saw him.
d) there was no bus service at that hour. Only drunkards like us and zombies like him. Or perhaps Mat Rempits. Having mentioned that, he could be a Mat Rempit gang leader in disguise.
I reckon that the madman must be heading towards the bus stop shelter for a night’s rest.
Anyway, I ignored him and continued to focus on the situation.
Back to Henry. Once out of the vehicle, my friend made a beeline to the nearby drain… but didn’t make it. Halfway through the distance, his puke gave way. It shot out of his mouth like a pressurized water cannon and he ended up hurling everything right under that bus stop shelter. Bits and pieces of frothy yong tou foo ricocheted all over the place. The whole hurling episode was just so impressive, that I actually remarked out of reflex – “Mannnnnnn! This is one hell of a puke!” and snapped a picture of the mess with my phone camera.
The Reshmonu hair guy on the other hand, stopped dead cold in his tracks and saw the whole thing unfolding before his eyes. I looked back at him while my friend Henry continued to regurgitate the remnants of his undigested food, and a feeling of fear suddenly loomed over my thoughts like an impending storm… “Oh shit, we’ve ruined his shelter for the night!”. I was afraid that the vagrant madman would charge and bite us or something for ruining his pad. We’d be in deep shit if he did that because I definitely do not want to mess around with people like him. Especially him with his stinking killer locks. It’s gonna take weeks to wash off the smell, that’s why it’s always better to avoid him if possible.
So he was like watching Henry’s performance with a shocked expression – the same kind of expression, I guess, if you were to catch someone puking all over your sofa with little regards of your feelings. I was expecting him to leap at us anytime soon and was ready to drag Henry out of the predicament if that were to happen. But it didn’t happen of course. Else I would now be lying inside a hospital somewhere all bandaged, instead of writing all these craps. He just looked on wearing that same expression, probably did a little thinking with that wacky mind – that we commoners must be no less crazier than him. To pay so much money just to get that short burst of happiness and suffer later like sick fucks. (If he’s thinking that, then I couldn’t agree more with him.)
Once Henry was done, we quickly went back into the car and bailed. The last I checked from the rearview mirror, he was walking back towards the direction he originally came from, fading into the night – off to look for another bus stop shelter perhaps. But as I’m quite familiar with the area, I don’t think there is another bus stop with shelter for another couple of clicks or so. He must had a long walk that night. Rough night for the guy, I feel so fucking sorry for him.
Homeless dude, if you’re reading this, please accept my apology for ruining your pad. I promise to give you a couple bottles of anti-dandruff shampoo and a Happy Meal if we ever cross path at a sheltered bus stop again.
