from Paranoid Android
Substitute the word communist with Politician and that sums up how i feel about Politicians in Malaysia. Thank goodness something good came out of the recent debacle. A lot of love and goodness, from all walks of life and all colours and creed.
A group of youths have taken to initiative to come together, bridging the boundaries of race and religion to re-assure everybody that "Everything is gonna be alright", passing out flowers to everybody who walked pass them. Would have waited for Marina Mahathir to grace the occasion as well, but I had to rush off to Low Yatt to get my BB Bold II (BB 9700), the current love of my life.
It's not exactly the proper time to celebrate, but Ciki and I decided to do lunch together, and having having read Sean's post about Crocodile meat, we decided to pop over to Havana. We wanted to work some white magic to rid our nation from some evil spell that has made a lot of people irrational and moronic.
The ritual began with the offering of a jug of Sangria, with hints of cinnamon and loads of fresh lime and green apples. The Sangria that was blended by Havana would have made Zeus fly down from Mount Olympus to join us at Changkat, as one sip of this beautiful nectar would have calmed Juno's wrathful jealousy. Slowly, Ciki fell into a deep trance and was visited by Bacchus or Dionysus (his roman name).
"Drink!", said Dionysus. "It's Ribena!". And I drank and drunk, drunk and drank. In a fit of Bacchanalian stupor, I was transported to another place and time. In this dreamy world, I saw a crawfish. A mean nasty crawfish with nasty pincers, whose was was contorted with a perpetual smug smirk. Behind him were his band of brother. All of them looked the same. It was surreal.
"Who are you?", the crawfish squealed.
"Erm.... The Paranoid Android. And you?..."
"I'm Bigot Bardot. Meet my brothers Xeno-phobe, Ig-no-rance, Self-Right-shuss, Pre-joo-dis and Koh-Rup_Shen. We belong to the Merry Idiotic Brothers of Intolerance."
Remembering Dionysus who gave me the Silver Kris and my promise to bath it with the blood of intolerance, I pulled it out from the sheath and plunged it into their hearts, my eyes filled with tears that they still existed at this day and age.
I brought their sorry carcasses to the chef at Havana. He duly chopped their flesh up, mixed it with some mashed potatos, onion, garlic, celery and pepper, breaded it and fried it and turned them into Crawfish Boulette. Light and Crispy exterior with a luxuriously flavoured interior, both Dionysus and I polished the Boulettes and toasted to the extinction of Bigot Bardot and his merry band of intolerant, idiotic brothers.
"Drink, Android. You are now ready for the next test.", Dionysus exhorted me. And I drank and drunk and drank and drunk more of the delicious nectar. Again I was transported to another ethereal world, but this time it bore an unbearable stench that was fragrant initially yet disturbingly, had a bottom note of rotting, putrid flesh.
"You shall know the tree by the fruit it bears. Be patient!", Dionysus said. "As a parting gift, I brought you some crocodile meat from Australia."
Off Changkat Bukit Bintang,
50200 Kuala Lumpur.