yesterday, i spent my early evening with some of my schoolmates, supposedly to celebrate rinaldo's birthday. we did nothing constructive, yet i enjoyed myself. after separating, rinaldo and i met sukardi for supper at the prata shop near our house. my day ended when i closed my eyes and relaxed at 2am sharp.

at 10 in the morning, something hard knocked me on my shoulder. i thought negatively, since we watched the house of wax just last night. it was something worser; something that made me boil inside; something that made me want to hit the snare so loud, it will read 100.0 on the richter scale. i had to follow my maid to the clinic - the clinic that will change how i feel about compassion.

my eldest brother drove my maid and i to the clinic, had our lunch before he left for school. so, i was left alone with my maid, whom i can safely describe as a illiterate bugger that will do no good to our family. she waited on one of the ugly-looking budget-cheap plastic chairs that will give way even if the lightest of assholes like carvey sits on it. afraid of the copious amount of bacteria, mixed together with a huge heap of dust, and another whole lot of crazy toddlers running around their parents as if the clinic has been replaced with an IR, i moved away and out of the space.

our queue number was due 23 turns later.

hoping to keep myself busy, i went to the nearest convenice store and bought the magazine i read faithfully every week, along with today's newspaper. when i've finished both reads, i was at a lost. i wanted to make my way home, but my brother purposefully gave me specific instructions. i resorted to looking two old ugly bespectacled men play checkers at one of the tables at the coffeeshop. the lenses of their spectacles were at least thrice the size of your watches' face. with each strategic step they made, comes a verbal abuse to the opposition. at one point of time, i thought one of them'd flip the table, because they made their steps almost immediately after the opposition made his.

after amusing myself, i went back to the clinic and to my dismay, the number count only lessened by a miserable 12 turns. that means, i had to continue to wait for another 11 turns.! bought 8 days, and finished reading every word of it; bought the papers, and finished reading the sports section plus a few of the stories in it - that means, about approximately, after every long article i finished reading, a sick old asshole makes his way into the doctor's room.?

and it's not my illness - it's my maid, and i have to wait for her to finish seeing the doctor before i can go home.!

our turn neared gradually and slowly, in which my anger grew quickly. i couldn't sit still anymore. then finally, 2 more patients before it will be my maid's turn. our queue number count 42, which we waited for a staggering 3 hours and 30 minutes.

in this 3 hours, i could have finished at least 4 math exercies in my tys, swam at least 30 or more laps, played at least 20 8 ball games, or better still, SLEPT FOR THAT 3 HOURS.!

i want to knock my head, now that i realise i actually agreed to accompany my maid to visit the doctors'.

i'm still not done yet - the 'best' is yet to come.

this man aged at least 50, wearing an ugly nondescript checkered shirt, with even uglier khaki long pants, and even even uglier black coloured leather shoes, came up to me and asked jovially, "what's your queue number.? can i change it with you.?" luckily for him, the surroundings were free from any sharp objects, or else i'd have given him the same ending paris hilton suffered in the house of wax. my feelings boiled even harder - i felt infuriated now, genuinely and reasonably. judging from my nonchalant expression, he pursued and explained, "i have to send my son to school. even if i take your queue number, i think if i send him to school, left only 15 minutes. please help. i will really appreciate it." this, i have very much to say:
(1) your son has school during the march holidays.? right, it's possible, but that, i comfortably say, applies to only older students.! at least old-enough students who'll treasure the services SMRT provides. it is only a 45c or 55c bus trip - don't tell me you cannot afford a bus ticket when you have enough money to come to family clinics like this one to harass already-very-irritated people like me.!?
(2) isn't it all too coincidental that your son requires transportation on the same day you have to visit a doctor.? that means to say, this is rountinary for you, that you have to leave work to fetch your son everyday like this.? fine, it may be the holidays, but who the fuck, which teacher, will put their remedial lessons/cca activities at the unearthly hour of 1pm at noon.? eh, why not put at 3am lah. lagi best. can have sex orgy party.
(3) last but not least, is it really justifiable to take the time of others (in which the time of 2 in this case) for your own purpose, for your own son's purpose.? if this is possible, really, i will go to a jamming studio, play the instruments for 10 hours when i've paid for 2, and tell the rest who are waiting to use the studio to fuck off. my excuse.? it will be that i have to practice with my band to join the next 'THE BIGGEST ROCKGOD IN THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE' competition. reasonable.? okay what.
(4) are comfort taxis so smelly from the after-breath of drivers who smoke, that your son cannot bear and help you out this once.? or are the taxi fares too expensive.? if so, show some parental love, be a REAL parent, quit shitting around here, begging people for their queue number, and visit the doctors' at a later time.! unless, of course, you have a genital problem and both of them are already bleeding or burning. AH, only then, will i give up my queue number, thankyousirpleasefuckoffnow.
(5) WHAT THE FUCK CAN ONE DO IN A SCHOOL FOR 15 MINUTES.?!

he asked me this once, i denied, explaining politely that i had also waited a great deal of time for my turn. i peeked at his queue number, which he instantaneously bent it upwards so as to hide the number from my sight. so, he thinks by doing that, it will up the chances of me exchanging my queue number with his.? but i won't take that into consideration, since i wasn't prepared to exchange the queue number. since my maid, as described earlier, is as good as being illiterate, i took the rap and speak up for her. nobody likes waiting. he gave up, nodding his head and thanking me at the same time.

just when i thought i was free, just when i started to think of what to say when i see the doctor later, just when i wanted to reach out for one of the magazines stacked untidily in the shelf within reach, the guy came over and asked me once again.

"really really. i hope you can help. i really have to send my son to school. he is very late already. i will appreciate your help. i really hope you can help. you see, i keep on going in and out of the clinic because i have to take my son's call. please help, really."

i turned hostile. i kept quiet, looking away. he continued asking. seeing that i wasn't prepared to give in, he gave up. your son call so.? you go in and out so.? thumbs up lor, you got stamina. i call winston yap for you, see if gombak need players.

he moved to my maid, and asked if she could give in. and this, I TAKE IT AS THE BIGGEST INSULT IN THE ENTIRE WORLD. my maid, hello, MY maid, is not the one who went through the pain to shit me out into this world. she is not the one i have feelings for, neither is she the one i will show my academic results to. she DID NOT buy the keyboard, computer screen, and the cpu i'm using now to tell my readers the stuck up things you did to me today, and she DID NOT pay for the jack purcells i am wearing. if i choose not to give in, my maid will NOT give in. and if that is not a good enough reason for you to leave my maid who doesn't understand the foreign broken english you're speaking alone, gentleman, I AM PAYING FOR HER CLINICAL FEES.!

if you really need a whacking, i've got suggestions. really good ones. come to our school, sit down in any class, and light a cigarette when ms christine tan is in the midst of her lecture. that is 2 strokes of the cane, and may be another 2 addition for blatancy. another would be to go to the front of cineleisure off orchard road, stare at somebody male who is very ugly looking, has very colourful dyed hair, has a bad sense of fashion, and walks with his hands swinging behind his back as if his backside needs fanning. try to look for those in a big group - pick one and do the above. after staring for 2 minutes, make sure he returns your stare. then, you wait for him to walk towards you. but of course, if you need an even thicker punishment, you go up to him and say right in his face, "eh why you stare at me, shithead.?" an alternative, and probably the best, is that you come right up to my house (it is signature park block 56 lobby b), knock on my door, identify yourself as 'the one who loves giving lame excuses to jump queue at toh yi family clinic', and wait for a few seconds before hard blows fly into your ugly face. can.?

back to the story which is far from ended, he continued to ask my maid. without my knowledge, my maid passed him the queue number stub. wah, i tell you, angry times 4 million, really. at the corner of my eye, i sighted the attendant at the counter, winking and advising me not to exchange queue numbers. but it was too late.

before going into the doctor's room, he thanked, this time, my maid only. my middle finger could have been put to its best use at that point of time - either to point it at him, or to stuck it into his puny asshole.

10 minutes later, he came out, and started thanking my maid only again. i didn't blame him - he is but a pretentious creature. when he needs help from me, he smiles and speaks politely. when he finds out that my maid is more easygoing than i am, he moves in on her, and cared less about me. he needs serious treatment, really.

he left hastily, after thanking the last time.

and this is how i manage to formulate a list of possibilities as to why he needed to rush off so quickly. it could be because:
(1) he needed to borrow the doctor's stethoscope to listen to the heartbeat of the car's battery because it went dead.
(2) he thought the syringe use for vaccinations could salvage his flat tyre problem.
(3) he wanted to go back to his home soon during his lunch break because he needed to have sex with his maid, thus the initial shyness towards my maid.
(4) his car broke down, and thought he could consult a doctor for help.
(5) he needed professional prescription for his jumping-queue-numbers-in-hawkers-and-anywhye-else-in-the-world illness.

anyhow, he has to comprehend this - even if:
(1) his daughter is in the process of being raped by 10 horny guys under the void deck,
(2) his son is late for his registry of marriage,
(3) his wife needs erotic pleasures only he could provide and is waiting at home,
(4) his boss needs to see a MC before he can allow him to see his dying parents,
(5) his maid is getting away with his newly-bought porsche boxster,

I DON'T GIVE A FUCK AT ALL.!

my point is simple yet clear: if you don't have a reasonable excuse to jump queue and take up the precious time of others, get lost and come a day earlier and wait outside the clinic, like how fans do because they want first-row seats at the concerts of their favourite singers.!

understand the meaning of 'on a first-come-first-serve basis'.!

i am not cold-blooded - if a dying old man with so many wrinkles his face is all creased into the middle to the extend that you can only see his nose comes up to me and say he is suffering from an illness which involves the heart dangling out of his chest, i will gladly give up my queue number for him. same goes if a worried parent is carrying their own baby in his/her arms, crying and explaining at the same time that their child is having a very high fever, i will give up my queue number without any qualms.

but a stupid and lame excuse of, "oh, i've got to send my son to school,".? this one, you can leave it for the garbage collectors - "can you treat my son as garbage and throw him into the bin.? then if possible, drop him at dover road.? if cannot nmind, just burn and let-die." really. ageing man, you have to be a good example to your children - educate them that jumping queue is very wrong, and at least teach them how to tell a lie. a good one. make sure they draft their script out twice, before telling a lie to strangers. this will help. make sure they don't chafe the nerves of others in the process too.! AND MAKE SURE THEY DO IT DISCREETLY AND NOT OPENLY.! don't let others hear it, because they may look at you differently. and you have to tell your son my suggestions when he needs a whacking.

that will make him a very famous and good man, a presitigous figure, somebody who will give benefits to the society in whole, and of course, become a learned and respectable man.!

oh but wait. cannot leh, he miss school for one day leh, only listen to the teacher for 15 minutes for one remedial lesson leh, FUTURE SUREEEEE GONE ONE, SURELY ONE, don't have to live already, academically, he is GONE.!

die, i think i killed your son today.