The Silent Room

Ahh..monday.

I usually dont give a shit about mondays. But today will be the Monday of my life. It’s the monday when I flew.

The day started fine. Well, not so fine, since I have a class with Azman Awang Teh [yes, lucky, lucky me] for 2 whole fucking hours. Oh well, I didn’t mind it that much. Not that I was even paying attention to whatever fuck he was crapping abt anyway.

Once that’s done, I joined Yun Chuan at Mdm Fazidah‘s room, one floor up. Since she was abt to go to her class, we thought we’d escort her down the way. And then, we stumbled upon Alfred, Danny and Yoon. After a short chitchat and solving matters between Exam Unit [YC's deal] and Admission Unit [Alfred's deal], we grabbed breakfast at Plaza Siswa. It was then when Alfred revealed that his car got fucked up.

It appears that his rear brakes are dislocated and it sometimes locks rudely. After breakfast, YC and I decided to go home when Alfred called. This time, his brakes locked and it wont budge. So YC picked Alfred up to get a mechanic while Yoon, Danny and I wait by the [fucking old] car.

About 15 mins later, YC came back with the mechanic. They called for a tow-truck, so thinking that everything was gona be ok, we left the scene and for those who know me well, I tapau-ed some kebabs – wait, they have a role to play in this tale – [yes, Plaza Siswa sells kebab now, and they taste good] for lunch and I had them in my backpack.

The moment we reached home, Alfred called again. The dumbass mechanic hopped on the tow-truck and left his bike for Alfred [who has never rode a motorbike on his own] to send back to the workshop. Good thing I have experience riding a bike. But the last time I drove [somehow I think, 'driving' isnt right when talking about bikes] was about a good 5 years ago. But YC somehow believed in me enough that he dragged me along.

The plan was, YC will ride on his bike, I’ll ride on the mechanic’s bike. We both go to the workshop and we’ll go home on YC’s bike. Apparently, Alfred wants to tag along. Maybe because he wants to see how one would ‘drive’ a bike. I asked Alfred to get on YCs bike, because I wasn’t so confident. So he did. Unfortunately, the other bike had a clutch, and I’m not used to it. So, YC said, ‘Fine, Fazri, you take Alfred on my bike, I’ll ride that,’.

So, I was on YC’s bike, with Alfred on my back. Too bad for me, I find it a bit hard to brake. Thing is, it’s a bicycle habit. Whenever I wanted to brake, I’d grip the handle and I’ll accelerate. Yeesh. I can sense Alfred’s fear everytime I shifted gears and tried to brake. In fact, he yelled ‘YUN CHUAN, I’M SCARED!!!~~~’. Bitchass. Everything was pretty ok, until one sandy junction.

I waited until it was clear, and made a turn. Too bad lah, I didn’t turn enough before I started going fast. I wanted to brake, so by bicycle instinct, I gripped the handle. Tight. Yeap. I zoomed straight, seriously at 90° high speed, onto a curb and – according to YC – we flew.

Ho yeah. There was no family image flashing through my mind, no thoughts about God, no thoughts abt my body , no thoughts abt my regrets, and most importantly, no thoughts about Alfred. The only thing on my mind for that 3 seconds of ‘airtime’ was “OMFG, YC’s gona kill me.”. We landed upright, miraculously. But with lost balance, we toppled and well, we shutted the fuck up.

Just a few seconds later, YC came up, looking worried [about us, or his bike, I don't know] and he went “Hey are yo- ” and guess what? He jammed his foot brake and the mechaninc’s bike spinned on the ground, ending up in front of him, while he was still standing in front of us. Not giving a fuck about the mechanic’s bike, he finished his sentence. “We’re fine,” was the boring reply. I only grazed my left ankle, and hurt my left asscheek. Too bad I can’t ask anyone to see if it’s bruised. that would be like, “Hey, look at my ass, is it blue?” :p

A kind couple even stopped by to ask if we were all right. Simply waving them off with a smile, YC pushed the other bike to the roadside. Alfred, shaken from the impact, got off YC’s bike never to get on it with me again. In the end, Alfred pushed the mechanic’s bike to the workshop and YC and I left for home.

I reach home, dettol-ed my graze [can't do much abt my butt, though] and remembered my lunch. Feeling cheeky, I showed the YC the kebabs that I brought home, and he went “Last time, it was roti john. This time, kebab!?”

Aahh, life is good.