It was fine young afternoon (I don’t know why I wrote young, it just sounded cool); the day was going great, too great to be honest — and it’s on days like these that I think to myself, “I can’t wait for someone to fuck it up”.
Here I was at my favourite café, a local Thai joint, enjoying a fresh serving of Pad-Thai with a side of fried crab cakes; they were quite delicious.
It was at this moment that my friends sent me a text, “Wanna drop by a house party?”; the afternoon was evolving into the mesmerising night and quite frankly I’d just had a great dinner, I thought — why not? Maybe I’ll finally meet my soul-mate.
Not getting my hopes up, I jumped into an Uber and instantly regretted it as one of my mates texted,
“Hey dude, driving past yours. You ready?”.
“I just caught an Uber :(…”
This is how I knew…the signs were starting to emerge, the free water was nice — the driver asked me how my day went; turned out he too enjoys Thai food, and hopes to one day become a rapper.
I wished him well and gave him Five-Stars; whilst he sent me a link to his Soundcloud page and told me check it out (I never did).
Maybe it was karma, for having lied whilst looking dead in the eyes of my trusted driver; for I should’ve been grateful for the free water and actually bothered giving him a few “hearts” on his track “Imma Kill’a”.
Glad I didn’t check it out whilst we were in the car together, as it would’ve been quite disconcerting.
I arrived at the party, fashionably dressed — though nobody really cared to notice as they all seemed to dressed in casual clothing, one gentlemen even had his shirt off.
He was ripped.
Gushing at his chiselled body, my friends felt it would be a great idea to introduce me around the party — “Hey this is our friend we invited over to your party without asking you!”.
I tried my best to conceal my embarrassment, though after a few drinks they couldn’t really remember where we’d met before — “At your door, like thirty minutes ago?”.
The party went on and the vibes were at an all time high, hashtags were trending, selfies were snapped, one young lady even displayed her ability to gargle sparkling wine (also known as Champagne); I was quite impressed, I can barely gargle Listerine (not my sponsors).
It was at this moment that the chiselled fella emerged, slowly slurring his words as he hugged me in a warm embrace, “Bro, I love you man!”; turned out he had just swallowed a few “pingers” (ecstasy / MDMA / 3,4-Methylenedioxymethamphetamine).
My new ripped best friend asked me what music I like, we had a long conversation about his past — he basically told me everything from his work etiquette to his stable relationship, and frankly I kinda liked the guy.
It was all going too well…and my spidey senses alarmed me that something quite unsavoury was soon impending.
A rather more ripped fella, with his t-shirt on (I must note), approached me and asked what was wrong with my ears;
“What’s with the monkey ears, bud?”
“WHAT?!” (The music was too loud, his ears were fine)
“Is that a genetic thing?”
“No…it happens when you eat too much cauliflower!”
It was in the midst of this conversation that the fella asked if he could touch them, it was an odd request, but I didn’t want to be a party pooper.
Soon he too swallowed some pingers and would go around telling everybody how hey’d just me the dude with the most fascinating ears, and how he felt sorry for my “genetic thing”.
I would soon be the elephant man in the room (HA HA! See what I did there?)
People just couldn’t get enough, they’d never seen such a specimen before.
“So what happened?!”, asked the young lady who had gargled sparkling wine earlier.
“I ate too much cauliflower…”
“Huh?!”, said the ripped fella; the one that noticed my ears, not the other one.
“Yeah…umm. Well I used to be really skinny and used to get beat up a lot. And uhh…my mum and dad said I should start learning Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu” (BJJ, not to be confused with Blow Job Juice).
“And that happened?”
And with that “fuck”, I’d just fucked up the whole vibe of the party; apparently when people are on pingers, they take things too emotionally and due to lack of experience in mind-fuckery; I’d completely jeopardised the wellbeing of these fine people with my sob story.
Quite frankly, I hadn’t even noticed them until they asked…anyways.
The party went on and I realised I’d been a buzz kill.
I went home…cooked up some Mi-Goreng and passed out whilst watching “Cringe Compilations”.
A sudden urge to research my condition emerged, and I thought…fuck it.
So I googled it…
Found myself on YouTube (Where all hope goes to die)…
And watched this,
and frankly it gave me some hope…
Adam Sandler somehow found his way into my recommendations, and I thought — “hey this looks cool, I’ll check it out.”
Little did I know…all hope would soon be drained from me, much like the blood that should’ve been drained from my ears ages ago.
And in my deepest of desires, I did think of leaving a mean comment; but then I realised Adam Sandler probably won’t read it and I’ll get roasted by other minions on the channel.
So I just googled “Adam Sandler Net Worth” instead.
And that didn’t…help…much…either.
So yeah…beanies, they’re great! Wear ‘em.
Also please wear head gear when practising BJJ.
Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu…not the other one, but probably wear protection either way.
And if you’re feeling distraught about a certain body part that kinda makes you insecure, do not worry — know that somewhere along this world, a fella by the name Nabeel exists; and he too shares your pain.