The Last (and Final) Impression
July 01, 2008

It doesn't matter that the cumulative cost of fuel and two tolls to your place accounts for 43.2% of my monthly savings. It doesn't matter that I actually live in the 'food capital' of the country, where the number of McDonald's per acreage land is more than the number of sheep in New Zealand. And it certainly doesn't matter that the fried rice at your place tastes like sand paper, marinated in trisodium phosphate.

For every bite of it tastes like little drops from heaven when it's you who's serving. While most would deem anything made by your chef as the ultimate culinary disaster, when it's you who's sliding the plate onto the table, I see an exquisite delicacy from the palace's kitchen, prepared with utmost intricacy. You could be serving a bowl of chicken feet broth and it would still look like coq au vin, whatever that means in French.

We used to drive around your area with our heads jotting out of the car window, me and my friends, to see if you're at work. No amount of permanent scars on our faces, thanks to the branches of that tree in front of your place, could ever deter us from taking a peek. For all you know, it could make a good, laughable story as we share a drink under that tree one day.

('We' as in me and you of course... not me and my friends. Not that I'm discounting the fact that I have a higher probability of sharing a drink under that tree with them instead.)

In the effort to become future 'thinkers' of the modern world, I'd engaged in numerous discussions with my friends; most of which would usually lead to heated arguments. Our debates cover a host of topics, from the impact of the subprime mortgage crisis on the Asian economy, to the impact of placing a compressed soda cans in between the tires of a mountain bike (which are: 1) the generation of a really neat 'motor-sound' to simulate the experience of riding a motorcycle and 2) very angry neighbors).

But nothing -- and I mean not even a disagreement on whether did Tara Reid or did Tara Reid not perform augmentation on her body -- could even come close to the squabble that we get ourselves into upon answering the question 'who you were looking at when you walked pass our table earlier'. A question that could only be settled upon a round of Pro Evolution Soccer on the PlayStation, to avoid bloodbath.

So it was only natural for me to grab the bill before the other losers could even touch it when we were at your place the other day.

I rose as I held the bill up, and heralded to my friends,

"Citizens of this table, you're about to bear witness, the beginning of a love fairytale like no other... with the completion of my payment for our dinner tonight. As I embark upon this journey, may you losers continue to only be able to pleasure yourself with women ending in .AVI and .JPG for the rest of your lives. Behold..."

And I walked straight to the counter where you seemed to be quite busy with the cash register; remotely disturbed by the number of guys throwing glances at you while they pretend to listen to their wives and girlfriends.

"I'd like to pay." I said to you.

"How do you sleep at night, leaving us all sleepless with your smile?" I said to myself.

"And that would be RM 28.00"

"Here you go... lotsa customers this time around eh?"

"Yeah, most of them have been here since a few hours ago."

"I could spend a lifetime here with you around..."

"What's that?"

"Oh nothing, I said I used to work near this town."

"Really, where do you work now?"

"Ah, I work for an oil company now."

"Alright and here's your change... oil company eh? Which pump station?"

"..."

To say your last question squashed my heart into tiny blobs of frozen blood would be an understatement. And I left the counter grasping the change, leaving no space for its molecules to move. I can hear the sound of the guys in the restaurant holding their laughter in; some of them spilling water out of their noses in the process.

From a distance, I can see my friends slowly standing up from their chairs and waving their hands my way putting the biggest of smiles on their faces. And I walked, the walk of shame, leaving you wondering... which, pump, station.

Inspired by: Paul Simms' Four Short Crushes

My other Simms essays: 1) Basic Instinct III 2) Splash Splash



Comments:

Bang, BARU kaa.. LAMA?

wahahahhahahhahahah
 

hahaha. LOL.
awesome piece dude.
 

is this based from your own experience ? lol
 

ko reka siot citer nih
 

I, could be squirting water through my nostrils too, reading this piece. And right now, I am choking on my own saliva. Fiction or no fiction, i gotta love it. I feel you. :D

P/s: i linked this page to mine. i hope you're ok with that.
 

serih, ko mmg genius.

bila aku baca "which pump station" tu, aku cuba sedaya upaya untuk tahan gelak sepertimana kawan2 kau dalam cerita tu.

sebab nnt org kat opis aku ingat aku gile lak.

serih - a genius.
 

weh nih yang ko citer jadik kat ko masa ramai2 kat Jalal hari tuh ke? "Which pump station?" huhuhu.... can't really blame her on that!
 

Dude, no matter what.... Kudos, U did the move man, the rest just looked and laughed.... poor them...

-Alee-
 

Amal: Tak baik ko...

MX: So when will I get to see these pics of you and the Uzbek ladies?

Silent reader: Partly.

Judd: Yeap, macam cerita ko letak sign 'nyanyi kuat sikit' dulu.

Ty: You are most welcomed to, by all means. :-)

Pie: You are too kind.

Sarimah: Masak lomak!

Alee: Dude, you sound a bit too, serious. Why?
 

owhh.. that..
ill snap some pictures for you, buddy
 

Si Alee serious pasal dia care. Dia kasi semangat tu. He's a caring dawg. At the rate we're going, I'm pretty sure we can expect hundreds more encounters like this. Oh well, they say practice makes perfect, innit?

I guess we're destined to be the perfect Good Guys. Hell, at least I know you'll be there with me.

Chill, Manito.
 

hahahahah.. that's why it's good to not pretend being modest by saying "syarikat minyak" or "oil company". Sebut aja PET itteww...

if it's a work of fiction. oh well, you know it, you're a genius.

p/s : try telling Esoh that and see whether she'll ask "which station" or not. Heh.
 

Hussen: Baru lepas lunch with Ticub (and the rest of course). So dia story cakap semua terbaekkk kat sana? Prove him right son, prove him right.

Snoop: This 'good guys' business kalau tengok balik ada resemblance macam movie Goodfellas do. Especially that last scene, yang ada lagu Layla. Pergh.

Azah: I wouldn't mind her asking which station if she goes on saying "I'll drop by..." after that, you know. :-)
 

hahahahahah you guys are unbelievable when it comes to beautiful chicks. you DO realise beauty is skin deep, right? ;p
 

love it!
 

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Photography by Azalia Suhaimi

About
  • Asrif, b. 1983
  • Subang Jaya, Malaysia
  • asrifomar[@]gmail[.]com
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