chicken chow mein kampf

I’m in the Raffles Players production, as an artistic tree. That’s what I tell anyone who asks me. I flail my arms and shout stuff to lure the tree-nymphs out to play pixies under me.

Seriously though. I have a strange knack of nailing all the hopelessly minor, yet significantly kinky and controversial roles! Snap.

(I mean, tree-nymph-luring-artistic-tree? Unsafe.)

Also, we have a Chem open-book test tomorrow. I liked Chem last year, but then I didn’t have a teacher who so completely distracts me every single lesson. And last year I didn’t really go around during practicals trying to burn my tongs and heat up mysterious concoctions of the bench chemicals till they boil and squirt stuff all over. Though IT IS REALLY JUST A PASSING WHIM.

Beng didn’t come to school today. He’s probably sick again. I think since the incident he has become slightly better, though in what ways I probably won’t know.

“Hey Mooty, since we all won’t have dates on Valentine’s Day, why don’t all go out to watch a movie?”

“OI! Who says I won’t have a date?! I can choose to go out with, uh, Lucy and Suzie and, uh Mary! Stop insulting me!”

Beng gave a dry chuckle and went back to doing his work.

He actually initiated a conversation with me! Maybe he treats me as a friend (because I’m one of the few people who still talk to him at all), or maybe he just wants to kill me in a urinal and flush me away on Thursday.

I may never know. Mary’s free on that day.


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