Knives and Forks
As dictated by Faranza Syns
Ah screw it. It's not as if Tim's gonna be around my blog. Pffft. A strike that didn't quite make it.
Yesterday
And so, there I was, rushing, knowing that with the time I'll take to change my shirt, dad would already be in his beloved Nabira, honking away.
Seriously, it scares me sometimes how quick everyone else dresses.
Or maybe it's just how slow I dress. Let's not delve too deep in case we stumble across something unsavoury, eh?
Notice that the reason for my shock is because he's there again. The fact that he goes to his girlfriend's house no longer stumps me.
And so, while we were eating at one of the roadside stalls, comfortably seated close together, joking over our evening meal,
Haha. The atmosphere was nearly scary.
Dad was rather quiet a while. Then, he said on a quiet tone, "Kalau berani, bawak la."
And he made knife sharpening sounds using his fork and spoon.
He was joking of course. His telltale grin said it all.
Then, he started talking about his friends, the percentage of them who were married to their highschool sweethearts (approximately 0.9%, I think), and the chances of them actually surviving that marriage. (0%, by the way)
Believe me, dad. I've done that a lot. And I see it many times when I take a look at my older stories; stories that I've convinced myself, once upon a time, were as mature as I could get.
Heck, no. I've still a lot to learn.
And heck, what boyfriend? Haha.
No worries, Ma. That's one sin of omission I'll never have to worry about.
;)
A tightening of the chest--
This is so not love.
Yesterday
Dad: We're going out for dinner.
And so, there I was, rushing, knowing that with the time I'll take to change my shirt, dad would already be in his beloved Nabira, honking away.
Seriously, it scares me sometimes how quick everyone else dresses.
Or maybe it's just how slow I dress. Let's not delve too deep in case we stumble across something unsavoury, eh?
Me: Where's bro?
Ma: He's at his girlfriend's house.
Me: *GAAN!?* Again?
Notice that the reason for my shock is because he's there again. The fact that he goes to his girlfriend's house no longer stumps me.
And so, while we were eating at one of the roadside stalls, comfortably seated close together, joking over our evening meal,
Me: What would you guys do if I bought my boyfriend home?
Ma: *speechless for a moment.*
Me: *blinks artlessly*
Dad: ... Do you have one?
Haha. The atmosphere was nearly scary.
Me: I said "if", ayah.
Ma: Well... it depends on the time, really.
Dad was rather quiet a while. Then, he said on a quiet tone, "Kalau berani, bawak la."
And he made knife sharpening sounds using his fork and spoon.
He was joking of course. His telltale grin said it all.
Then, he started talking about his friends, the percentage of them who were married to their highschool sweethearts (approximately 0.9%, I think), and the chances of them actually surviving that marriage. (0%, by the way)
Dad: You might think, for now, that you've matured. *Smiles* But one day, you'll look back, and say "Matured? Hah."
Believe me, dad. I've done that a lot. And I see it many times when I take a look at my older stories; stories that I've convinced myself, once upon a time, were as mature as I could get.
Heck, no. I've still a lot to learn.
And heck, what boyfriend? Haha.
Ma: BUT, if you have a boyfriend, you must bring him to see us. Don't keep it a secret.
No worries, Ma. That's one sin of omission I'll never have to worry about.
;)
A tightening of the chest--
This is so not love.
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