Tuesday, October 19, 2010

I AM VERY, VERY, VERY ANGRY. -Run Away Now, You Fools.

I am infuriated! No, what's worse than being infuriated? I am BEYOND INFURIATED! BUT WHAT'S BEYOND INFURIATED? I don't particularly care how I express my feelings and interpret them into words right now, I am just very angry. Most of the time, I would remember Allah and try exceptionally hard to be patient, until, that is, I conveniently wet myself.
Other times I would take it all in, run upstairs to my room, lie on my bed and scream until tears wet my pillow. BUT NOT THIS TIME. NOT TODAY. I AM VERY, VERY, VERY ANGRY AT THIS ONE PARTICULAR WOMAN.
Let us all find out why, and at the same time I will try and contain my anger.
What the- Ey man! what the hell do you want, you selfish, self-absorbed, two-faced bitch? -oh, right. Containing.

I was at my campus's computer lab, happily typing away and at the same time, brain-storming of new ideas on 'how to escape a blind date faster than you can say 'Supercalifragilisticexpiyalado-whatever'.'' Then it dawned on me that I'd to buy some very important stuff upstairs, where all the stores are, oh and the Immigration Centre is located here too.

So after buying my 'wanted' items, I hurried my way towards my campus (where my underground campus is hiding. No, it doesn't sound 'oh so cool!' at all. yeah I know, telllll me about it).

Out of no where, a small, helpless little baby boy of 2 came running out of a Bun Shop, crying his little baby heart out, raising his right hand with a bun tightly grasped. I instantly thought, eh, a situation that would always occur at busy places like Immigration Centres; mother subconsciously abandons her kid. Don't worry child, your momma's not far, just right behind you.
The child was still in his white-barney-the-purple-dinosaur printed pyjamas, his plum-red face, sticky with streaming tears, looking up at strangers around him, trying very hard to identify which is his mother.

Then he fell fast on the floor, as if, something unnatural tried to suck him into the center of the Earth.

Lying flat on the ground, he cried and wailed, kicking his stubby little legs aimlessly into thin air. Everybody was staring at the helpless, innocent little child, his baby heart only yearning for the warmth of his mother's comforting, cradling arms to subside all panic and worries.

But instead, I saw a bitter, middle-aged woman coming up to him with rage in her eyes. She pinched the child's little butt and beat his back and head repeatedly. The child's wails grew increasingly disturbing.
She pinched him again and again, this time, his right ear and right arm. She picked up the chocolate bun on the floor, that's already been contaminated with germs and other disgusting substances, and mercilessly pulled the little boy up to his feet. Straightened him up, and slapped him. Twice. She shouted in his face,

'Diamlah! Diaaam aku kata!!!! Kurang ajar punya budak! Dasar tak dengar kata!!!'

At that precise moment, I marched right up to that wicked witch, gripped the little boy's shoulder and pulled him to my side where he'll be safe. I screamed the hell out of my lungs, saliva spurted out of my mouth, and she blinked. I didn't care that everyone else pointed and gawked at me, I was just absolutely furious with her. 'You bitch, how dare you treat an innocent child this way?! How would YOU like to get slapped around, you retard! Are you even a legal citizen of this country, where the hell is your passport, flash it here, NOW! I am going to the police station, bitch you coming with me!!!'

In my mind. Damn was I good, I really gave her a goood lecture about Mothering 101, one she would never ever forget. In my mind. I was that little boy's savior. In my mind.
However, the event of that horrible mother slapping her kid around was absolutely, undeniably, true. Ask Uncle Teo from the bakery shop. Ask Huda and Zainal from their stationery shop, which is next to Uncle Teo's place. I have a truck load of witnesses to prove that I am right and speaking nothing but the truth.

Potential reasons that drove her to mama-psycho
1)Both parents of wicked witch were immigrants.
2)Got pregnant with little jack-jack (I came up with that name for the child. I'm not freaking lying) at the tender age of 17.
3)Momma and Dad lacked genuine family spirit, disowned her and threw her out.
4)Two weeks of wandering around landed her three jobs. How she managed? With no food, shelter, security? I will not dignify that question with an answer, you do not want to know.
5)No, please, no need to ask about the whereabouts of the baby daddy. A pathetic excuse of a drug-addict, he is. Pity.
6)Had to raise little jack-jack alone, juggle three jobs and cope with EVERYTHING that revolves around the word 'single mother'.

I don't see the need for you to deliver a punch to my nose, just cause you refuse to agree with my reasons. Single mothers are super women; they are amazing at what they do best : raising their kids. They would bust their asses at work, rush home, cook dinner, clean up kitchen and still have smiles plastered on their faces.
Trust me, I know a few, and they blow me away with their stories.
But you gotta check out her background too. Some single mothers are truly beyond amazing, while others are simply unfortunate. And, miraculously enough, I pity this wicked witch of the South, I truly, do.

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