Echoes of a Deranged world

     Aaaahhhh….it pains me to inform you that my bowels are now empty, as there is no more excuse for I, Orangey Snicket to tell you about one of the many disasters plaguing the lives of Gary and his friends. And we shall be off….(imagine me pouring some pixie dust out of your computer and now you are flying like the children in Peter Pan…HEY, i said pixie dust, not some ecstacy pill!!! so stop acting ‘high’ and ’stoned’)

     It was a night just like any other night. The moon was smiling its usual yellowish grin, Eh moon, haven’t you heard of toothpaste before?, and it single handedly hogged the limelight of the stars in the night. The illegal racers were bustling in the city, honking away, signalling to the other drivers, "DEI MACHA, MOVE-LAH!!!! MY GRANDMA DRIVES FASTER THAN YOU!" .

    But alas, dear reader…that has nothing at all to do with our sad, pathetic and humiliating story for today. No dear reader, our story today happened on a cool morning, where the fresh smell of nasi lemak lingers on in the background.

    Our young Gary, a standard 6 pupil, bright and bubbly (not to mention FAT!!! flubbertatious, tub of lard and other fat-insinuating descriptions ) was chatting and playing with his friends on the school bus, enjoying themselves with a little game of "Hey, why don’t we slap the fat kid?", when all of a sudden the bus came to a stop, signalling to Gary that he had reached his destination… anxious but ready to receive his UPSR results on that day. As one of his bus friends gave him a slap on the butt just for good measure, Gary attempted to step off the platform of the bus’ entrance while waving goodbye to his bus friends…not knowing what was awaiting him…

    As the very moment which Gary stepped off that platform, a lorry carrying live chickens with the name of ‘SUZUKI’ emblazoned on its front rammed into Gary, causing him to hurl in the sky like some fat gymnast attmpting to break the world Olympic record and crashing to the ground about 30-50 meters away.How did he survive????

    Simple answer.Because he was FAT( did i mention that earlier? And this is true, because the doctors later told him so in the hospital, but that’s in part 2, so patience…) His bag was in tatters, with books lying all over the road. His clothes were that of the Hulk’s after a mega Gamma transformation. His mind….well, lets just dig into his memory banks and see what went on in there shall we?

" HMmm, chocolate pancakes and a quarter-pound steak for breakfast…mom, i want 4 cubes of sugar in my Milo, thanks"

    Nono, that was earlier in the morning, i apologize, what went on during the accident was …..

" God, i’m coming home, forgive me of my sins as i forgive those who have trespassed against me"

   …..followed by a few sommersaults on the road and  "So this is what the Power Rangers feel like everytime they fly in the air…oooo"

      Dear reader, it pains me to go on any further with this tale of torment and despair. Thus, i shall leave you to purge out my agony and burden as the storyteller of this tale. When i cease to feel the pangs of guilt on my conscience, i shall continue the story….

(which evidently is very soon…SO STAY TUNED, SAME TIME, SAME PLACE ON YOUR FEEL GOOD CHANNEL…people from NTV 7, if you’re reading this, i’m expecting payment for the publicity!!!)

     Good evening( or morning, depending on when you’re reading this…), my name is Orangey Snicket, (you should know my brother…Lemmony, if you don’t, that means you havent been reading enough, so START doing so!!!), and I have taken over Gary’s column on the further study of Craptology and his deranged world.

     Before i reveal to you a tale of an event so misfortunate that it will actually cause you to start finishing your vegetables, start cleaning your room and *GASP*, actually flush the toilet after you’ve finished…as yelow-skinned chinese people would say…SHEE- SHEE…you might want to press the cancel button on this blog and start reading something more comfortable and less gloomy, such as your Sejarah form 4 textbook .

     OH well, it seems that you have ignored the warning given and are brave enough to take upon the insurmountable task of reading the following tales of misfortunate events. Mind you, it is with deep grief fro me to relive the dreadful and dreary experiences of the young boy named Gary and his equally unfortunate sidekick Matthew…it is still not too late for you to turn back….go on….

    Well, ok, suit yourself…

     It all started on a rainy afternoon…*rumble*…. when *rumble* Gary and Matt were….oh my, dear reader, i beg your pardon, but the rumbling that you heard( or read) isnt an added effect of that rainy day but my stomach rumbling trying to force digested food out of my ‘glutinus maximus’…*rumble*…so it is with great despair that i postpone telling you the story by apologizing profusely. On the other hand, its with great relief that i have a brief respite from sharing to you this tale of misfortunate porpotions…so count it as a blessing, dear reader…

OH NO, ITS COMING OUT!!!! NOOOOO!!!!!!!!

(erm, the continuation to the tale that is….what did you think was coming out? hmm mm…)

The Prank Call

        You know, its sometimes, nah! its VERY annoying to be woken up in the middle of the night by the ringing tone of your handphone. Your mind is suddenly yanked away from that dream( we guys all have…yeap, you guessed it, doing stand up comedy in front of a bunch of midgets! ) in the Bahamas with a hot chick and suddenly you realize you are on your bed, drudgingly but dutifully summoned to pick up your handphone and actually having to answer the person from the other line.

        If it was an emergency per say, then adrenaline would kick in and this feeling of annoyance would just surpass. If it was a matter of life and death, then we would be thankful that the person across the line bothered calling us. Unfortunately, if it was a prank call…then let me give you a formulative answer.

Groggy old

Gary

+ now scraped dream with Avril Lavigne+ Annoying polyphonic ringtone = THE HULK (a sarong curyypuff-eating version I guess, minus the muscular bulk)

This is an account of the conversation which transpired that fateful night…(which was about 5 minutes ago from the time of this entry but hey! Doesn’t it sound more dramatic?)

Prank Caller= PCK ( was tempted to insert, Private Limited, best in

Singapore

, JB, and some say

Ipoh

wei)

Gary

=

Gary

(Duh!)

RING RING RING RING(I cant as well type out the ringtone can i>?)

Gary

: Hello??? (groggily with grouchiness)

PCK  : Hello, I’m calling from TC modeling agency and you have been spotted as a potential model…would you be interested? (complete with a faux American accent…which by the way, was pretty good)

Gary

: If this is a prank call, it ain’t funny…

PCK : NONO, I spotted you in Jusco a couple of days ago and you were HOT!!! You are Gary Chong right? I think you are HOT ( Notice how I purposefully capitalize the word HOT?)

Gary

: Oh yeah…when did you see me in Jusco? ( trying to end the conversation as fast as possible…)

PC: Erm, yesterday…nono, the day before yesterday.

Gary

: What agency did you say you were from again?

PC: TC Modelling agency. We are dealing with models like Lina Teoh and so forth. Would you be interested?

Gary

: No

She then went on rambling some things trying to put together a convincing storyline which elude my memory banks right now…finally I decided to let PCK down easy…

Gary

: Erm, sorry but I have exams and stuff. But thanks anyway.

She then either replied “You are adorable” or “You are a dog” and then hung up.

        Alrighty then, now lets do the post mortem on the pathetic attempt at a prank. I’ll put in point form where you went wrong (yeap, this is directed at PCK):

1: Nobody from a modeling agency calls at 11.30 and uses a private handphone number (I was tempted to call PCK back in person and tell her all these mistakes which she made during the prank but… hey, wouldn’t that be embarrassing)

2: I didn’t go to Jusco for the past week and how in the world would you have known my name if you ‘spotted’ me?

3: You were to enthusiastic. In playing a prank, always play it cool.

4: YOU ACTUALLY SAID I WAS HOT!!! (either someone paid you to say this or pointed a gun to your head)

5: Watch more MTV Punk’d and listen up to the Hitz.Fm morning crew’s GOTCHA calls for further lessons in the art of pranking.

        But if indeed you thought I was HOT, for real, you know my number…LOL. In any case, I would have given that prank a 4 out of 10. A recommendable first effort if that was your first. AND PLEASE, no calls after

10.00 p.m.

        HULK HATES PUNY PHONE CALLS AFTER

10 P.M.

HULK BASHES PUNY PERSON WHO CALLS AT THIS TIME. ( Although let it be known that this version of the Hulk has an anti-violence policy and would rather play with butterflies and run along the beach, eating hot currypuffs.)

The Draft

        Did you people not read the previous disclaimer properly? Because I’ve been thrown with fresh fruit ever since my last entry and indeed that has deterred me from writing in my blog, you know, due to the neurological traumatic implications ( Bruises in the head the size of miniature golf balls , bloated lips… NO, I don’t  look anything like Angelina Jolie!!!) , although some might argue that I’ve had all these ‘neurological implications’ for quite some time now….

        Due in partial response to that (and the fact that your comments have dropped from as that of Santa’s wish list to a trickle which would make any person whimper to a dark secluded corner and start talking to a volleyball called ‘Wilson’), the Perceptions of Romance will be put on an indefinite hiatus and a new series will be starting…simply titled ‘Adventures of a Banana’.

        *Characters portrayed in this series do actually exist but have given me the thumbs up to use them ( USE THEM…MUAHAHAHA, insert evil, malicious laughter) for the purpose of your literary escapades.

        Unfortunately, because of my lack of friends overall ( Hey, I am the vice president of the Social Outcast club you know… its tough, but somebody has gotta do it) and also because I lack the psychic abilities of probing your minds to find out if you are willing to give me the thumbs up in inserting YOU, dear reader as a character in the following series, I’ve drafted up a contractual agreement…and if you would so sign, by posting a comment with your full name and agreement keyword which goes something like… FROM TODAY, I’LL BE KNOW AS PRIVATE BANANA (insert your name)…

        Dear Gary,

I hereby agree to be used as a character in your upcoming series, “Adventures of a Banana” and I hereby give you the privilege of greatly exaggerating my character in a humorous, parodius manner. I also agree that in no way whatsoever will I beat the living daylights out of you if you make fun of me or treat my character with as much dignity as that of (insert your own negative comparison). I also agree to not come after you and ask for any money, cash, moolah , or anything worth more than 10 sen.

Sincerely,

………….

(Insert your name)

       Thank you for your co-operation and so begins the adventure….(darn, I forgot that I don’t have any characters yet)