Ring, ring.

I swear to god this happened the other day.

I was at home.

All alone.

Minding my own business.

Then…

…the phone rings. *cue creepy theme song from Psycho*


Me: *picks up phone* Hel…

Some Malay lady: Eh. Siapa ini huh?

Sorry? I don’t…

Siapa ini? Siapa ini?? Siapa ini???

Oei. You panggil rumah saya you tanya buat apa?

Eh!! You ni jangan sentuh suami orang lain tau! Dia tu dah ada bini dan anak dua!

?

Tergamak nak usik anak dara orang lain!

……

Berdosa! Berdosa! Insya Allah…*dunno what else in she said in Swahili or Kazakhstani or something*

!

Pengkhianat! Tak malu! Jahil! *something something* TUHAN! *something something* NERAKA! *something something* ALLAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!


At that point, I lost it. Totally and completely lost it. Maybe cause I was high from the six bananas I consumed earlier that day because there was nothing else to eat and because they are an excellent source of potassium. Anyway.


Hahahahaharotflmaohahahaha!!

Eh, ketawa apa ni? This is no laughing matter!

Hahahahaha*snort*ha

Bedebah! Jangan ketawa!

Hahahahbodoh!hahaha

Bismillah *something something*!

HA

TUHAN!

HAHA

NERAKA!!

HA

ALLLLLAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!

HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!



This goes on for quite some time. As if it was on loop in ITunes. After a while, I stop, wipe the tears from my eyes and hang up on the psycho (who by the way, was still going strong and was dishing out the religious rebuke like Father Merrin at the end of The Exorcist).

For what its worth, it was the most interesting thing that happened that day.

In the course of the next week, I got a few calls every other afternoon where I would pick up but there would be dead silence from the other end. Occasionally though, it would be replaced by a familiar “Siapa ni?”

Ooookay…


Pretty wild, huh? I went from being an innocent, banana-eating college dropout to the third party of an illicit sexual love-triangle with a married man and his overly devout spouse just like that.

I called Zhi after that, and she said it would’ve been cool if I had played along and had some fun with her. Like, put on some chinky-slut voice and offer her to join in as a threesome for a nominal fee. Or pretend to be a dude and explain that their marriage was just a cover-up and that her husband is, by nature, a poofter.

Damn. If that wasn’t a wasted opportunity to have some dirty, twisted fun, I don’t know what is.

The following week though, the calls gradually stopped coming. And I actually kind of missed them for a bit. I mean, psycho was dumb as a brick, but at least she was funny. I felt like we had something there, a rapport of some kind. She even had a pet name-Pompuan Gila.


Oh, pompuan gila! Wherever you are, I wish you all the best. May you give your husband another chance and give yourselves another shot at happiness. May you resist your urge to cut off his privates with a kitchen knife. May you stop misusing your religion as fuel to that rage problem you so clearly have! May you check yourself in to a looney bin, and may that looney bin be a maximum security mental institution run by trained professionals and amply stocked with happy pills and straightjackets!



XOXO,
Kimmie