Shut the Doors, Shut the Windows, Turn Off The Light, Stop The Fans, We'll Hear Your Plight.

What was that previous post about?
I don't know.

Must be really shit-housed.
In fact, I think being shit-housed is my default state of being now,
no matter how much I sleep (or try to) I still feel like my soul has
just been sucked out chewed, digested and then spat right back into me.

Ahh.. I can see why Ningx is going
on hiatus. Probably because of the damned 'O' levels.
Damned preliminaries is barely a month away.
Time to get off my ass and start hitting the books,
that or get some serious down time sleeping,
getting myself physically prepared for the ordeal.

Shit, at least I know that I'm not alone.
Almost everyone I know have become virtual zombies
just like me, arriving at school, tired and empty.
Taking naps in class, waking up with neck aches, back aches
and aches in places you thought couldn't ache.

Well, at least school has been eventful today.
For one, I skipped nearly all of Chinese lesson,
working as hired muscle for my 'beloved' English teacher,
Mrs Yeo-Chng Woei Ling.

Job Description:
Generally Looking Like A Pissed-offed Bastard.
Being able to assert authority over a bunch of delinquent sec 2s.
And looking like a pissed-offed bastard.

Let me tell you, I have never seen an even sorrier bunch of
little pisses' then Sec 2N1.
Bunch of little punks, don't even have the guts to point fingers
at the culprit, who broke off the doors of the cupboards.
Idiots, you really think you succeed in life with such camarderie?

Not when two teachers are fuming mad at you,
(one of them having just given birth)
another class waiting for their English lessons to begin,
a bunch of Sec 4's staring at you bunch of pisses looking damned
pissed because you're infuriating our delicate EL teacher.

Nabeh, in our time
when our class didn't hand up homework (the majority)
did you know what our form teacher did?

Enters Classroom,
Mr Wong:"Dick, shut the doors, shut the windows, turn off the light, stop the fans,
I'll hear your plight." (He wasn't so poetic lah, being a CL teacher, but you get my meaning)

But what he really meant was,
"Close all openings, that may invite prying eyes. You bastards are going to get hell,
and I don't want any eye witnesses. Fuck it, you shouldn't have messed with me,
you're my charges and you sure as hell shouldn't do such things to embarass me."

And then, he'd taunt us, questioning us, sitting on his big fat arse,
smiling away, making the entire class sweat. With the windows closed,
the fans and lights turned off, it was like a bloody gulag.
Dark, hot, stuffy you'd be staring into the eyes of your tormentor and
you'd know there was nothing you could do about it, you couldn't run
you couldn't escape. You couldn't come up with any plausible answer to his questions,
even if you could, it wouldn't be satisfactory.

All you could do was to brace yourself.

Mr Wong:"Okay, move all the tables to the side, and get into pumping position,
I want you to pump for every letter and punctuation in the sentence I'm going
to be writing on the board."

He then proceeds to write:
"I will remember to do my homework and hand it up on time everytime the
teacher gives me any."

And the class had to obey, keeping time,
pumping in unison, for every letter and punctuation,
even the period at the end.

We'd restart if our push-ups were slack, or if
we didn't count loud enough, any one of those stupid little reasons.

We learnt real discipline, at the hands of the sick bastard.
For that, I think everyone from my class at that time, 2B,
love Mr Wong more than anyother teacher in the school.

We were men, we were brothers and sisters.
We learnt real discipline, we learnt that the world is full of unreasonable
hard-asses and to excel, you'd have to be an even worse hard-ass.

We grew up, that year, 2003.

Which is why, when I saw 2N1 sitting down there,
all pretty with the lights on, proper ventilation, looking damned
bored, not knowing how much they aggravated Mrs Yeo,
I felt oddly compelled to give each one of the a kick in the groin,
and make them all sweat.

Lock that all up in the class room,
make them sweat.

See how they react then.
I don't think they'd give any attitude nor look bored then, eh?


Ahhh...
Mr Wong, the good old days.

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Why am I feeling so shit-housed?
I stil don't know.

The Blood Brothers- Love Rhymes With Hideous Car Wreck.

I think that song may have some bearing on my mood.
" Those tire tracks
zigzag your torso like a Devil's self portrait.
The car accident, the skin graft treatment, the flower baskets,
the wincing relatives..."

"ane said when she laid on her back
the sun hit her body like an ugly landscape.

But some things never get better
like used cars and bad livers.
So you traded her in for a better looking brand.
One with fake porno tits
a pad lock on her lips
disposable tan
biodegradable hands."

Bloody infectious.