Joe stepped into his room and peeled off his shirt. It had be a very long week for him. The first two days were spent with his girlfriend who was returning to Europe for 30 months at least. The second two were spent recovering emotionally and fighting fires at work. Today was Friday and finally Joe could take a breath without wondering what else he ought to be doing. A long shower and an hour later, Joe decided to hit his favourite watering hole. If he wasn’t going to get a medal for surviving the week the least he deserved was a long, stiff drink.
Stepping into the all too familiar den of drink, drink and more drink, Joe distinctly realised that he did not feel as energised as he normally was stepping into this place. He was missing Jane. It had been only three days but it had seemed a lot longer than that in his mind. He definitely needed a drink. He walked to the bar but not before everyone working there recognised him and greeted him or shook his hand. Joe was a regular there. Joe was quite the charmer but most importantly, Joe knew how to make service staff feel appreciated. Joe eventually reached the bar and gestured at the bartender. It was a gesture the bartender understood.
An hour into his very large glass, Joe was interrupted by his cell phone. He looked at it and saw that his friends had decided to drop by, confident that Joe would be there. Joe smiled. He felt he could use the company although he was not really sure if he wanted it. Regardless, his friends arrived shortly after and the acceptable social lubricant was applied liberally.
In no time at all, his friends had cheered Joe up and were laughing and taking photographs. Photographs that almost instantly made their way to Facebook. Not that there were anything scandalous about the photographs. It merely showed Joe having a drink with his friends.
7000 miles away, Jane turned on her computer. And she was alerted to new pictures of Joe. She saw him drinking. She saw him with his friends. She saw him betraying her. She picked up her cell phone and called him. Of course Joe didn’t hear the call. It was too noisy. It was just too noisy where he was. Jane called again and again, frantic with the thought that she hadn’t left a week and Joe was having a drink. How could Joe! In a moment of clarity, she realised she could call John. The same John she had known when visiting Joe and the same John that was in the photograph with him. Fortunately for Jane and unfortunately for Joe, John was outside smoking. Which meant that when Jane called, John could actually hear his cell phone. And answer it.
John went in and looked for Joe. John was puzzled that Jane would call him. Joe was also puzzled that Jane would call him. Until Joe looked at his cell phone to see the 13 missed calls from Jane. Abruptly sobered, Joe stepped outside to return Jane’s call. Joe did not know if he should be upset at having missed Jane’s calls or embarrassed that Jane had behaved like a mother and called his friend. The cell phone rang. The call connected. And the show was on.
Jane berated Joe for his insensitivity. For how selfish it was of Joe to be out for drinks so soon after her departure. For how he didn’t seem to care about the relationship. For how none of his friends could take her seriously if Joe wasn’t taking her seriously. For Joe’s missing her calls. Joe was confused. He was sure he had done nothing wrong. It was unfortunate that he missed Jane’s calls but that could have happened even if Jane were in the same country. Jane made it sound like Joe had cheated on her. Joe tried to explain but Jane was in no mood to be reasoned with. She did what she did best – cry – and hung up on Joe. At this stage, Joe was more confused than he was drunk. The mood for the evening had been brutally murdered. Joe walked to the main street and hailed a taxi for home.
Jane threw her cell phone on her bed. She was livid. Joe’s nerve! The entire episode had consumed the better part of two hours. Two hours!
She glanced at the clock in her room and shook her head.
She was late for a party.
13 reaction(s):
I like. Uhhhhhhh yeah :)
Hahah what she said!! Lolz
sounds like someone i know lol
Since she was already late for the party, Jane instead decided to book a ticket online. On the way to the airport, she bought a shotgun and a box of silver bullets (what can I say, Joe was a real animal at times).
Her plane landed the next day, while Joe was still in bed recovering from a massive hangover due to copious amounts of whisky. Jane managed to get the gun through Customs as she had convinced the authorities she would clean up Joe once and for all, and boy did the authorities want him dead. Joe had caused massive damage already, the latest being a bad digestion system leading to haze engulfing the country.
Jane stormed into Joe's flat, kicking the door down as if it was made of Styrofoam (it actually was, what can I say, Joe was cheap with the house decor at times). Joe woke up startled, seeing Jane pointing the shotgun at him. As she pulled the trigger, all Joe heard was not the sound of the gun firing, but instead the familiar tune of tt song: "Bang Bang, she shot me down..."
sunit,you fucking fag
Mr. Singh,
I wanted to read something funny today and suddenly remembered your blog... I opened imnaught in my explorer but to my surprise I saw that you haven't written since September 2010!!! Are u ok??!!
Hope to read u soon.
cheers,
Your friendly kissing machine =*
I doubt you still check the comments on this but compulsion leads me to say that the writing's good, the phrasing's are bordering on ingenius. Yet, at times I feel like you're writing w/o saying anything at all andthe chauvanism gets in the way of the narrative. Description is heavy-handed at times but still extremely enojyable.
friendly kissing machine:
i just have had no inspiration for writing. and since i dont plan what to write, it is important that inspiration strikes me. thanks for noticing and i'll try to write soon.
Anonymous:
i do check the comments; they come straight to my email.
writing isnt to merely say something because not saying something is a message in itself. as for the chauvanism comment, i think you confuse author with persona. thanks for telling me you enjoy my writing, though! :)
To die alive is to take risks. To pay your price.
Hi Mr Singh. Your blog is such a distraction!
A student from long time ago.
hi Charmaine! i think i remember you! how are you doing? :)
sunit
I'm doing okay! Studying in ACJC now. 2nd year with the A levels in November.
So glad you (might) remember me! You definitely make up one of the best memories I had while in sec 1. Always the white shirt and black pants. :)
I miss your writing. 'told you then I've been reading them, to pass the time or simply entertain myself finding the way you use 'em words really interesting. Hope to read a new one soon. Take care.
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