I did run this morning (a weird run in which I ran for fifteen minutes around the neighborhood before realising that I was lost in some random AMK street. I walked my way to the library and spent 40 minutes there in the aircon, before running home), but that is NOT the point. I spent Good Friday at home, on the computer reading manga and playing Flash games. It’s not called GOOD Friday for nothing.
Which brings me back to my current ambition. I was mapping out my life in the shower. I think I’ve got all bases covered, and I’m right on course.
For the next two weeks, I shall be busy getting hooked on the computer, to some strange Mac computer game. The rest of the year will be spent on the game, and I shall fail my EOYs. I shall be expelled in November, and find odd-jobs to fund my (by then) rapidly growing smoking and boozing habit, but shall be fired within two weeks for each. By June next year my new friend, the community gangster, shall introduce me to some weird variation of expensive drug (actually just a mash of tomatoes and chopped-up cigarettes wrapped up in banana leaf, though I shan’t know that), and I’ll be hooked on that and begin robbing the family to fund my drugs, cigarettes and booze.
I’ll rob an old lady by twenty, and be jailed for two years. I’ll come up unrepentant, and almost immediately start getting addicted to drugs again. For the next five years I’ll be living off my exasperated parents, spending the day on my sofa with chips, drugs, booze and cigarettes. And groundnuts.
At 27, I’ll meet a social worker (hot) who’ll introduce me to a counselling centre (Christian). I’ll have a midlife crisis, and rediscover religion and morals and wean myself off drugs, booze and cigarettes for the next year. I’ll find a decent office job typing 9-5 and start supporting myself. I’ll marry the (hot) social worker and have a son and a daughter – Hitmon and Totto respectively. I’ll start authoring self-help bestsellers and serving actively in the community. I’ll be a millionaire by 35.
I’ll get into politics in 37, and be put forward as a presidential candidate, facing off against a certain Mrs S R Nathan. I’ll be elected President with a couple of cliches and by playing a few Josh Groban songs during my speeches (and getting the vote of the ex-cons).
I’ll live off the fat of the land till death. The end.