10:27 p.m. - 2003-08-13
The whole damm entry if you were too lazy to follow. school.
(A) Graduation Day:
Friday, chosen to end the week for students, was Graduation Day, a special ceremony set by the school whereby awards of different purposes were handed out to the respective students (who might not deserve it or might not even like it) for them to bring home and frame up upon a wall for visiting guests to admire and �It's a great conversational piece!�.
The general idea of Graduation Day is the farewell assembly whereby students, some sad, some glad, some forced to hang around, say either in the face or silently in their small little hearts, the �long lovely goodbyes and poignant tears like petals of withered wild flowers falling�.... �Alas! Goot-bye� to their teachers gathered in the school hall for a soapy three hours of clapping at the award-winners walking awkwardly up the stage, who are supposed to bow, every each one, and then songs proclaiming love for friends and forgotten acquaintances are sung and there are even teachers holding roses and reciting poems.
(B) The morning rises:
Far away in Toa Payoh, Fyodor awakens, rising out of the dust of his floor like a sleepy giant. Fyodor rejected his comfy puffy little bed, ridiculed by his mom for developing a monk�s spartan existence, going on in life, small storms of isolated existence and boiling rebellions against his past obsession with neatness, �sailing to the heart of the lonely storm� . He scratches his head and lumbers like a big rugby player to the bathroom.
Meanwhile, Kafka awakes groggily from his bed and goes to the bathroom to let out that morning pee.
Shawn stayed in his bed for a while; a long while after the alarm clock screamed its shrill cry; contemplating the day of the week and what else will happen when he steps out of bed. He gets up with a final movement and goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth.
Frances throws a pillow across her head and tries to sleep amidst the sounds of the rest of the household waking up and preparing to go to work. With a women�s instinct, she decides not to go to school because a) she was awarded the total number of zero prizes, b) she was tired of clapping, c) attendance would not be taken despite what the teachers said and d) her presence would not be sorely missed anyway.
She continued sleeping.
(C) Happenings in the school hall:
Imagine, just imagine the sound of tired, patronising handclaps.
Each award-winner of prizes such as commendation for performing well in the ECA, award for studies, award for House, award for performing beyond the call of duty, award for courtesy...etc, were glad that they have received their prizes and were now reminiscing about their past two years in the school as they sat on the brown plastic chairs, their paper certificates held limply in sweaty palms.
Meanwhile, the other students were cheering with real gusto, pumping their fists in the air like leaders at a rally and taking photos as the line of award winners filed through the stage and bowed expediously and then there were memorably magical moments of singing songs and general hugging of your idiotic neighbour.
(D) A courage most commendable (though nobody gave a prize) :
Throughout the whole ceremony of giving prizes and during the principal�s speech, Fyodor and Kafka were talking to each other, reaffirming their beliefs in the easy comely way people do whenever they wax nonsense; the general topics of today�s session were
1) the whining individual�s blames on society
2) the fight to defend one�s changing principles
3) the coming army enlistment
4) brainwashing propaganda
5) alien abductions
and the Mysterious Way to �just think nothing and the aliens would not be able to control you� and then there were also arguments and counter-arguments and at one sharp point in history, Fyodor remarked to Kafka, �yeah, you have a counter opinion to everything.� The opposite upside-down thesaurus. And both agreed, �yes...life is a trap�, nodding their big heads away.
Other side topics include hypothetical assumption questions asked to each other �what should you do when you turn against your friends up to the point when you suddenly have different, against the flow, attitudes�and they are no longer your friends?� and confessions of exaggeratedly traumatic secondary school days and their indifferent attitudes grown to masturbation and guffaws.
Both discussed the dangers of Bill Gates� amassment of wealth and whatever should they do if either of them decides to write a novel and publish it and thus reap lots of money and whether this is the moral thing to do and then Kafka sputtered on about �doing and feeling what you do� and the inevitable ostracization from society, remembering the one time he had cried in front of his whole secondary school.
He had a haircut, at secondary two, a flat-top haircut resembling Bart Simpson�s and of which his brother was the pioneer, and then the morning he came to school, he was taken to a corner by the portly vice principal Mr. Png.
�Boy, is that a punk style?�
Kafka, at that time who was unexposed to rock music and its evil satanic influences, knew not a �shit� (as they would say) about punk rock, and as he stood trembling and scared, knowing that something terrible would happen to him and �what punk?�, he didn't have a clue. The time was too short for an answer to be thought out carefully and he might as well say �yes�, because he's a boy who can't say no, to everything, except in the most tactful manner.
�Yes.�
With that, the vice-principal shielded the sun with his huge body and loomed over our timid Kafka, taking out a notepad and marking down his name and class.
�Okay so you agree it's a punk haircut, huh?
�How long do you think we have to wait before your hair grows out?
�You want to shave your head?
�Later, i want you to go up and tell them.�
Kafka sniffled a yes.
When the school song was finished, everyone sat down and waited.
A show's coming up. The V-P hauled Kafka up onto the podium in front of the whole school and used
him as an example of decadent western influences and as the whole school stoically gasped, Kafka cried. He cried because he was scared and he had always obeyed the rules and he didn�t want to shave his head bald and go around wearing a stupid cap and be laughed at by everyone. He could feel the sympathy from his classmates as they sat there looking up at him crying pathetically. He felt
ashamed.
Back to the clapping on Graduation day. Well, everyone is supposed to clap, in fact, it's an unannounced law in our society. Then as the mass sing-along session came, Kafka and Fyodor (the reactionaries) don't want to stand which the whole school was doing, singing a song about friendship; but at the last minute as the emcee scrutinised the whole student population to see if they are ready, Kafka the Coward stood up and the whole school began singing that "friendship song". Kafka amused at the sight of Fyodor sitting down in the front row stubbornly, not standing up like the rest were doing, held his stomach and laughed his unfunny laugh and then as they lapsed into the chorus, he wondered why he even stood up when he was not singing and feeling cowardly and almost angry that Fyodor could be brave enough to be sitting down; he thought that he had forsaken his friend. He sat down abruptly with a �well�what the fuck.� and said to Fyodor, �Hey, did you feel forsaken?� (Like Jesus).
Fyodor the Courageous said, �Uh no."
Then as the whole song finished and everyone sat down again, a teacher who has obviously witnessed the two weird geeks in the front rows, strode up towards the stage. At this moment, Fyodor said, �Uh i think she's going to say something about us....�
�Yeah.... but (Kafka chuckles his unfunny chuckle) i got an excuse and that uses you. i�ll say 'oh! The song is about friendship and my friend is sitting down by himself, i can�t abandon him. And that's why i wasn't standing up.�
Fyodor said, �i'll just say i feel unnatural if i stood up.�
And then as the teacher didn't do anything, Fyodor said, �i was just thinking what i should say if they ever put me up on stage and question me why i didn�t stand up just now.�
Kafka said, �Okay, i'll enact the situation. Assuming you are up on the stage now and everyone's staring at you and i ask: why didn't you clap during the awards ceremony? even if you are not told to clap, you can still clap right?�
�You want a honest answer?�
�Yes.�
�Because if i clap, that will mean that i feel happy for them, which i do not. i don't feel jealous or angry or sad or anything.�
Then he continued, �i realised something...�
�What�
�It�s maybe quite sad or what, but at this stage, i realised i do not share their happiness...�
�Your childlike spontaneous lose.�
�Yes...but it's still okay...�
And then they talked about Hitler, martyrs and self-martyrship, the spittoons for society.
(E) Drunken fruit punches:
After the whole ceremony in school, Kafka and Shawn had nothing else they thought better to do and they decided to go drinking again, as some kind of fun. The sky was grey and it began to drizzle and both of them walked out of school, with fear and anticipation of drinking on empty stomachs, with the knowledge that they would drink till they are unconsciously drunk, to see how far it goes. The funny thing about drinking though its not funny is that it always provides a good excuse for playing an exhibitionistic fool in front of the whole world to see and right now, as they walk chattily towards the supermarket, Kafka and Shawn, their hair wet and liberated by the rain, the sky unusually grey, laughed hysterically and spoke about class activities, about girls, about where to go and get high upon drinking.
�Hey, we're drinking on empty stomachs, the effect would be greater!� Shawn said.
�Yeah, i haven't eaten since morning, how about you?�
�Yeah, me too.�
They got to the supermarket and checking the bottles and cans in the teenage tradition of picking the one with the highest alcohol level and which their money could afford, they bought a strawberry (8% alcohol) wine and two cans of beer and as they went down the escalator, they decided to go to the playground in the park where it is deserted and they could play on the swings and get high. Kafka was most eager to get a can and drink it right there and then but Shawn advised against it almost like a parent and so they walked the long way towards the park. When they got there, the rain had stopped but there were puddles of water in the hollows of the sand everywhere and they clumb like kids up into the shelter of the playpen and squatted down, the bag of drinks between them.
�Okay, let�s see who can drink faster.� Kafka said, picking a can out of the plastic bag.
�Okay lah! i always drink faster than you.�
�Fuck you, let�s see� okay. One, two...three.�
And they downed the cans of beer into their throats voraciously, enduring the lukewarm bitter taste, going down the throat like a guzzling ball. Then they stopped and paused for breath, tongues fingering the after taste, their stomachs churning sideways.
�Urghhh...i feel like puking.� Kafka said and stood up and rubbed his stomach with his left hand, his right hand holding the can of beer swishing the unfinished sludge about.
�Yeah, it tastes bad, i think that's because they're not cold at all.� Shawn gestured with the can in his left hand.
They looked at each other for a moment and remembering the competition, they brought their cans to their mouths and drank half-heartedly, trying hard to ignore the nauseous feeling of vomit. On their third mouthful, they finished the cans of beer, almost at the same time, although Kafka played cheat and emptied a few drops into the sand.
�Ar-fuck, taste like crap.� Kafka said and held his stomach.
�Yeah.� Shawn gulped.
Then they walked around a bit testily and Kafka burped a few times.
�How come you never burp?� he asked Shawn and Shawn replied, �I never burp.�
�Ar� let's go and play on the swings.� Kafka suggested and as Shawn opened the bottle of strawberry flavoured wine and drank, he took it from him and they walked towards the swing. They drank more of the sweet gassy liquid; the bottle pessimistically half emptied and they sat on the swings and swung higher and higher, up and down and up. Shawn swung like crazy, flying higher and higher almost a roundabout. Infected with laughter, the grey sky roared madly a few times.
After a while, they finished the bottle of strawberry wine and stood around wondering what to do next, and then threw a few bits of wet clumpy sand at each other. Kafka threw the empty bottle into a puddle of water with a splash and then squatted down by a puddle and washed his hands.
There was a sudden sound of smashing glass.
�Fuck! What are you doing?� Kafka startled and stared at Shawn and the splintered glass bottle in his hand.
�i don't know...Kafka, i don't know! How come i got so violent?� Shawn asked dramatically and stared at the broken bottle in his hand like a surprise.
�Ar-fuck, pick up the pieces...� Kafka mumbled.
They picked up the shards and pebblets of glass and put them into a plastic bag along with the empty cans and then scooped up some sand with glass bits too small and threw them in too.
�Let's go.�
They got up and started to walk away from the playground. Kafka took the plastic bag and almost with a smile, smashed it glassily against the metal poles again and again till the glass bottleneck jutted out of the bag and then the both of them tumbled out the playground. Shawn said his head was starting to spin and Kafka was angry-like because he had not felt anything yet. They walked towards the steps of the park, the plastic bag still in Kafka's hands. They looked around for something and decided to climb up the tiled steps to the top of the small hill in the park. Kafka threw the bag into a dustbin. When they reached halfway up, Shawn�s knees gave way and he fell, sitting down onto the steps and they laughed deliriously.
�Ar... I still have no feeling yet.� Kafka scowled.
�Really? My head's a bit dizzy already.�
�i don't know. There's no feeling...�
�Let's go back and get some more.�
They started walking down the steps, in the direction of the supermarket.
Shawn said, �i'm still conscious, damn, i don't think there's such a thing as completely drunk, no conscious, its all a lie, a lie to get people to drink.�
�Yeah-yeah��
They continued walking, bits of sand stuck to their uniforms. They crossed the overhead bridge and walked through buildings and Kafka took out the poem they were given during the graduation ceremony and read it loudly and Shawn took it from him and looked at it; the pink slip of paper had
gone wet and limp but the words were still visible. It was a poem called �If� by Rudyard Kipling, about believing in yourself and so on, etc.
When they got near the supermarket, they took out their money and counted it.
�Fuck, ten cents short.�
They went to other supermarkets in search of cheaper wine. Then they saw some of their schoolmates at the MacDonald�s restaurant and Shawn urged Kafka to go and borrow ten cents from them.
�i don't want, i don't want,� Kafka cried, �very embarassing, they see me like this.�
�Ar! i've got a card!� Shawn exclaimed suddenly and they tumbled happily in search of an ATM machine.
When they found one, Shawn slotted in his card and pressed a few buttons but suddenly there were only a few dollars left in his savings and he cried, �Ar! There's supposed to be money! My mum just put in five hundred, where is it?�
Kafka stifled a bitter laugh or cry, �Where is the money! Fucking bank.� He punched the screen murderously.
�Stop, stop, i'll check again.� Shawn said and pressed a few buttons again, but to no avail, the money was not there.
They went to the bowling alley in search of friends they could ask ten cents from and seeing none, they slumbered into the plastic chairs near the back. Shawn rested his spinning head upon the table and slept while Kafka looked around like a madman .he saw a girl in secondary school uniform behind him and he tapped her shoulder and asked for ten cents in the most olivier-porridge way. She gave him ten cents and delighted, he showed it to Shawn and they went to the supermarket. Kafka sat on a motorcycle in the video arcade and waited while Shawn ran in and got the wine. He came out and sat on another motorcycle alongside Kafka and they passed the bottle between themselves and finished it in no time. Then they walked out of the arcade gigglish and happy as larks; Kafka screamed bansheely a few times because he suddenly felt like it, and ran up a pile of sand and fell down and Shawn laughed and they walked through the car park, the sky grey with clouds and Kafka knocked on the glass windows of the KFC restaurant and they swaggered into the toilet and giggled because they were the only insanely intoxicated ones around and then after peeing, Kafka slumped down against the wall and tied his shoe-laces, ignoring the looks of fellow peers relieving themselves in the urinals and amidst it all, Shawn stood in front of the mirror and combed his wet hair.
A sudden rush and they're out of the restaurant and walking madly swinging their arms hard and Kafka with a dash, ran along the slippery tiled pavement and skated like he was on ice, he turned back and seeing the looks of passer-bys, laughed like an elf, and ran and skidded across the puddles and slipped and fell. Shawn laughed and ran forward to pick him up but Kafka pushed him away and hair tumbling wet over his eyes, walked on and then seeing a huge enticing puddle in front of him, he ran and skidded through it and spun madly �ar-ar-ar� like a helicopter his hands extended till he tumbled onto the muddy grass and laid there, muddied, staring at the leafy branches above and waited for Shawn to collect him.
(F) A kindness most commendable (though no one gave a hoot):
Shawn walked over, stunned, and picked him up.
�Let�s go to school, shall we? You�re drunk. Let�s go back and shower.�
�Uh... huh?� Kafka muttered and slumped against him.
�You�re crazy drunk, let's go back to school and shower and then go home.�
�i can't! Fuck, look, i'm soo dirty and mud muddy muddy muddy...� he chanted, enjoying the sound of the word.
�Listen to me, Kafka, you're drunk. you used to be very calm, right? Come on, let�s go back to school.� Shawn picked him up, but he himself was dizzy and together they leaned against each other and walked back to school.
�Oh no....we'll get expelled... ar-haha....�
Then they walked past a bus stop and Kafka seeing a few girls from their school, composed himself and they walked on and then when Shawn said something, Kafka suddenly, in a foolish exhibitionistic way, pushed him into a hedge.
�Ar....i'm scratched...look, Kafka, why did you push me?�
�i don't know....don't know, don't know...� Kafka said and laughed.
�Ar....for them to see.... those girls.... like an exhibition, haha...
�i'm sorry....sorry...sorry..�
They got to a traffic junction and there they waited for the lights to turn green and as the cars pulled to a stop by the road, Kafka waved to them and to a man sitting in the back of a lorry staring at him, he stared back defiantly and Shawn standing sheepishly beside him tried to calm him down but he hysterically laughed loudly, "see.... they're staring... hahaha... stare for what, kaypoh!"
As they crossed the road and walked back to school, they came into more and more of their schoolmates and Kafka, in his muddied uniform grinned madly at them and Shawn walked worriedly behind him. They sneaked into school and in the showers, Kafka laid himself down naked, crouched fetally and vomited and slept as the waters from the showers rained down coldly. Shawn was in the other cubicle and he kept muttering across, �Kafka, don't come out huh, don't come out, stay in there�� Then he laughed and sang some songs while Kafka slumped and twisted on the damp floor, closed his eyes and vomited.
After what seemed like an hour, there was silence.
�Hey Kafka! Are you alive? Hey! Hey!� Shawn, dressed and calm, shouted over the door.
�Yes.�
�Get up then, come out! Let's go home.�
�i can't, my clothes are wet and dirty, my mum will kill me.� Kafka complained from his miserable condition on the floor.
Shawn laughed and clumb onto the door; his head peeking over at Kafka, a naked body lying twisted on the cold tiles.
After a few minutes, mustering himself tiredly, Kafka came out of the cubicle, his hair wet and dripping; he looked like a nightmare, his skinny limbs and intoxicated pallor.
�Let�s go,� Shawn said.
They walked out of the toilet to the canteen and as Shawn ran upstairs to look for a friend, Kafka slumped over the canteen table and convulsed shakingly, his wet clothes accelerating the shivering cold. A few other students stared at him. Then Shawn came down and seeing the shivering Kafka, asked worriedly, �Are you alright? Why are you so cold?� Then he hurriedly went to the council room to borrow a shirt but there were no P.E. shirts or boy's uniforms and so he just took a girl's shirt.
Kafka changed into it and Shawn seeing that he was still shaking, brought him to the aircon vents which blew out hot air but they weren't working and they both slumped nauseously onto a table nearby. After a few minutes, Shawn seeing Kafka pale-faced and dying, wanted to send him home and together they walked out of the school and suddenly Kafka ran and squatted over a wastepaper basket and retched acidly. When he finished, they continued walking but then the vice-principal appeared and Kafka hurried past her but Shawn was waylaid and she reprimanded him.
Kafka waited for Shawn by the school pond and when he came out, he said, "she says she's going to give me a testimonial of only two lines."
Kafka said nothing and nodded. Together they walked out of school and Shawn kindly brought Kafka to the bus stop and saw him off on a bus before going home himself.
�Are you sure you're alright? Is the bus a direct one? You don't have to walk a far way, do you?�
�A little.�
And the bus roared away.
The End. (3880 words).
