The King Is No More
So the king of pop is dead. And it should be a big deal. That's right. It should. Cos' he was the king of what is pop and all that.
I was a big fan back in the days. Even wore them white socks, yo. Did all that moon walk thing and even had the red jacket the king wore in that 'Beat It' vid. Not exactly it but definitely something close. Made in China or some shit like that.
He was a good person and for his sake, I hope he's in a better place. With lots of errr...nice young people.
But enough of the king.
Yesternight, I was at Alex's house for the ritual of burning of the pig face. It was also Alex's girl friend and soon to be fiance's birthday do. I arrived an hour late but in style as usual, preferring to miss all the compulsory prayers and Christian rituals of which Alex's parents are notoriously known for. On my appearance at the door, I was literally dragged to the table of purveyors of cheap malt and beer.
The pig face was nice, still piping hot and washed down with Label 5, some Tigers and Judy's - Alex girl friend for now and soon to be fiance - red and white offerings. She is a cultured woman, I observed. She only drink wine in the correct wine glasses, she says. She and her sister played the role of the good host-es, making sure our glasses were not empty.
The conversation at our table ranged from comely bastards to ugly bitches, strategies to tragedies and the possibility of Norman standing for the state election. Norman who is now in his late 30's sat three times for his SRP and had never passed.
And then the gods seemed to make a point and the storm was torrential. It was around this time that I forgot to engage brain before opening my mouth. I said, and very loudlytoo that back in the days, Alex and I could hold our beer to at least 27 cans before passing out. I may have also injected this story about a few of our young friends of the female persuasion to whom we became freindly. This was when Judy turned to me and gave me the glare.
The rest is now blurry.
But serves me right. And when this fine beauty of an Iban fix her glare at you, you may need the UTK boys for assistance. Her attention was now on me and I remember vaguely being served by the hospitable and very beautiful Judy and her sister malicious amount of malt and wine so when the first sign of everything about me began to spin, I drifted into slumber.
And obviously stopped talking. I think Judy was happy last night.
I was a big fan back in the days. Even wore them white socks, yo. Did all that moon walk thing and even had the red jacket the king wore in that 'Beat It' vid. Not exactly it but definitely something close. Made in China or some shit like that.
He was a good person and for his sake, I hope he's in a better place. With lots of errr...nice young people.
But enough of the king.
Yesternight, I was at Alex's house for the ritual of burning of the pig face. It was also Alex's girl friend and soon to be fiance's birthday do. I arrived an hour late but in style as usual, preferring to miss all the compulsory prayers and Christian rituals of which Alex's parents are notoriously known for. On my appearance at the door, I was literally dragged to the table of purveyors of cheap malt and beer.
The pig face was nice, still piping hot and washed down with Label 5, some Tigers and Judy's - Alex girl friend for now and soon to be fiance - red and white offerings. She is a cultured woman, I observed. She only drink wine in the correct wine glasses, she says. She and her sister played the role of the good host-es, making sure our glasses were not empty.
The conversation at our table ranged from comely bastards to ugly bitches, strategies to tragedies and the possibility of Norman standing for the state election. Norman who is now in his late 30's sat three times for his SRP and had never passed.
And then the gods seemed to make a point and the storm was torrential. It was around this time that I forgot to engage brain before opening my mouth. I said, and very loudlytoo that back in the days, Alex and I could hold our beer to at least 27 cans before passing out. I may have also injected this story about a few of our young friends of the female persuasion to whom we became freindly. This was when Judy turned to me and gave me the glare.
The rest is now blurry.
But serves me right. And when this fine beauty of an Iban fix her glare at you, you may need the UTK boys for assistance. Her attention was now on me and I remember vaguely being served by the hospitable and very beautiful Judy and her sister malicious amount of malt and wine so when the first sign of everything about me began to spin, I drifted into slumber.
And obviously stopped talking. I think Judy was happy last night.
posted by Demented | Friday, June 26, 2009
|
3 comments
