langkau fiction

When I’m busy doing nothing, I do not like to be disturbed. However, some of my co-workers don’t seem to understand that.

For example, this morning one of them barged into my room as I was just about to start meditating on the erotics of two-toed sloth. Before I could say anything beyond “Hey, what the…”, my fellow labourer unleashed his grievances on me. Knowing him I knew it was going to be like listening to a badly scripted drama.

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I start this year with hope.

Today is Tuesday and I hope the lottery outlets will have a special draw. With that hope, I also hope that the numbers I write on that small piece of empty square paper will yield me good fortune. Hopefully, that good fortune will turn out in no less than five digits. I’m not selfish, you know. I could have asked for a prize of six digits or more but I settle for five.

For now.

Now, is that too much to hope for?

Okay, so it’s Friday. But I’d rather talk about Wednesday. In my world, shit happens on Wednesdays.

I start my morning with my daily 5mg dose. But this Wednesday it decides to pull a prank on me. My strip of 5mg have run out. I quickly take my shower and feed the five beasts.

At 8:30am I’m off to the pharmacy where I usually get my month supply of 5mg. Pharmacy closed. Shit.

Okay, no worries. So, I go to another pharmacy not far away from my usual drug joint pharmacy. It’s open. “At least someone works at this time,” I think to myself. I ask the young lady behind the counter for my 5mg. She says “Oh, did you write down your name in the book?”

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The subject line sounds like the title of a heavy metal song. The opening line starts with a power chord in A-minor that sounds like this “GGGGrrrrrrrrooooooowwwwwwwllllllllll / Warrrrrrgggghhh DEEEAAAAADDDDDDDD’en / bbbboooorrrrrrrnnn” and the chorus comes out something like this “Dddddddddeeeeaaaactttattttoorrrrrs offfffff deAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTHHHHHH”

…er, anyways…

An impoverished sparrow delivered an urgent message directly to my ears today to say that The Dear Leader is dead.

I stopped picking my nose.

I paused.

I looked at the sparrow and it bobbed its head in confirmation.

That is definitely something I did not expect to hear today. I mean, I expected Toto or Magnum 4D to announce my lottery numbers had won the million-Ringgit jackpot! Or the boss grant me paid leave for as long as I wish.

But no, life decides to be mundane. The Dear Leader is dead. I’m not sure if his unsangkarable death would attract much media attention as Elizabeth Taylor’s death early this year though. Let’s see what happens. The Dear Leader, after all, was also a celebrity right?

Apparently his son Kim Jong-Un who is already known as the ‘great successor’ will inherit the country’s leadership, much like how his father Kim Jong-Il (or also nicknamed Lodestar) inherited the throne of lunacy from his father’s father Kim Il-Sung (can’t remember his code name). The world is now anxious to know how deranged can Kim Jong-Un be?

Well, 2011 have killed two high profile celebrities (bin Laden and Gaddafi) and it ends the year with the death of The Dear Leader.

Or would there be some more deaths of dictators before the year ends?

Oooh…this is interesting…

By 1pm yesterday my brain just refused to work. I stared at my computer screen for what seemed to be many minutes, trying to make sense of what I had written. But I could not. There were just words and nothing appeared to be sensible. The only object that appeared in my brain was a can of dancing Tiger beer.

By 4pm yesterday I decided to end this insanity. I tucked my useless laptop into my bag and left the mental asylum. You would not know what freedom means until your office disappears from your view. That’s how I felt. Liberation. By that time my entire being was focused on one thing: beers.

I arrived Hijau half an hour later. I was the first customer and quickly ordered three Tigers from the Indonesian waitress who spoke fluent Iban. Less than an hour later, a colleague joined me at the sacred table and we ordered more beers. 10 minutes after that my demented kanid decided to show up to share our beers. It was good. I was satisfied. Fuck the world and all that, y’know.

We left Hijau at around 9pm and went our separate ways. On the way home a 1.5ltr bottle of Fanta orange slipped from under my car seat. The content was clear and at first, I thought it was water. But I don’t remember filling water into a Fanta bottle. I opened the cap, lo and behold! it was the sweet scent of langkau!

As soon as I got home, I ran upstairs and made a joyful announcement to my housemates that I have a bottle of langkau in my possession, beget by my car’s passenger seat! Once the announcement was made, I could hear the angels sang hymns of drunkenness in the heavens. We sat at our conference table outside and did whatever was necessary to the bottle. Not only was it langkau but it’s Bai Gana’s langkau, reputedly to be the best moonshine that ever touched my lips (…and sometimes burn my throat)!

We drank and told stories most of which I don’t remember anymore. To cut this story short, because I’m too lazy to describe the forgotten details, I woke up at 3am and found myself sleeping on the floor of my car porch. I was surrounded by my five dogs, one of them snoring away. Next to me was a small drain. In that drain I saw remnants of my dinner.

Such was my day yesterday. Thursday is the new Friday.