Déjà vu! A bottle of ketchup kept appearing on my mind every time I tuck in for food. I have a high attachment and fondness for tomato sauce, also known as catsup to some. Ah yes, pathetic isn’t it? I’ve outgrown hobbies, clothes, movies, silly habits but not ketchup.
My addiction started at the tender age of three or maybe four. My earliest memory of my association with ketchup was in a scene where I was rummaging the refrigerator for a packet of ketchup (courtesy of ol’ McD’s). How should I describe the euphoria I experienced once I’ve found the packet? Oh, the triumph! It was the top of the world for me. Never had I felt so happy. Gosh, if given the chance I could probably come out with a doodle that can easily outrival the works of greats, say Monet or Da Vinci at that point.
Gleefully, I’d sneak out to a secluded corner where my precious commodity and I could be left undisturbed.
Slowly, I’d attempt to open the packet with the gargantuan strength of a toddler. As a last resort, once my hands gave in, I would tear it up with my teeth. A simple but effective method I have used often, utilizing only the simplest of tools, my set of milk teeth. As expected, the battle between Homo sapiens against packaging is always won by the former.
A thought occurred to me while dodging bicycles, oxen carts, and other modes of transportation as I attempted to cross the road a few days ago. What hit me was wondrous beyond words. It seemed for a moment I was enveloped in this shield of entirety. The traffic was eons away at that moment. I was lifted; my soul enlightened. A beam of ray had shone through the heavens and held me with such warmth that I breathe of inspiration.
It seemed eternity before my feet touched ground.
The truth of my thought hit me. Could it be any more accurate? I knew then I was destined for great, great things. Phenomenal greatness, perhaps.
There was no time nor excuses for doubts. Surely not, since I possess a gift that could catapult me to excellence. My gift is a blessing indeed, for with it, I simply could push further and dig deeper. Are you curious now? What gift would I possess that you have not?
Put frankly, I have the unique gift of sleep. Allow me to elaborate on this as it may cause confusion amongst the not-so-sleepy folks. With my gift, I have the ability to either have forty winks or deep slumber at any time, any place. Come level with me and let your imagination fly.
When surrounded with aluminum, steel and plastic, I’m filled with a sense of security. When not behind the wheel, I’m filled with a sense of comfort. Ahhh….seated on the plush hind seat with air conditioning cooling the whole micro environment of the car I slowly drift off to slumber. The forward motion of wheels assures me that we’re headed to the destination as perfectly planned. A few hours later (or shorter) I wake up to find myself reaching the destination. I’d still have a few minutes to get wide awake, freshen up and get ready. Fresh, my mind sets off automatically to killer mode. As the wheels scrunched onto the pathway, I’m perfectly ready to head off any challenge. Totally prepared. That’s Godspeed I’m telling you.
Yes, laugh as you will but the above habit is perfectly applicable to a host of situations. Just think about it. I might be in the car heading off to an important deal that might involve a king’s ransom. Hell, I could be heading off to meet the Prime Minister. Even better, paste the above ritual into a plane, I might be off negotiating issues so important that the life and death of a nation balance dangerously on it.
You see, good habits die hard. In fact, gifts would not even die. Be jealous. Very, very jealous.
Note: I will not be held liable for any nauseous spells suffered after reading this. Humor me, at least let me humor myself.
As Providence would have it, I once again, found myself headed over to the local wet market. (Noticed how I've put the word "wet" in BOLD? It's a thing I do to prove my point.) Well, anyways..
The local wet market near my hometown is the helliest place ever near my house. Nothing else can come close to that. Not even the graveyard, what with its unorganized graves scattered here and there; new graves cramped into the edges of old graves and every where in between. Nope, sirree. A trip to the local wet market is as close to a Fear Factor challenge as it can get.
The first thing you notice when you reach there is the crowd. There are probably thousands of aunties, grandmothers, ah sohs, ah pohs, makciks, neneks all crowded in a span of stinky, muddy ground. Not to mention the hawkers/vendors as well as the uncles and grandfathers and foreign workers. Everyone is game for an outing to the local wet market! Oh yea, totally gung-ho. Then, you’ll go into the cautious mode. Why? Because you tip-toe, hop, and wade over tiny tiny zones of spit. They are like landmines, planted everywhere; and when you don’t notice..Wham! You’re a hit target. “Squelch…”
So now, do you have a mental picture? In tribute to this nightmare, I will proceed to highlight 3 most used tactics/ploys waged by the aunties, ah sohs, grandmas, and ah pohs that you will be thrown at before you reach the targeted location. But before you protest, please allow me explain to you why I did not mention the male gender in this. This is because they rarely do it. Probably they are not programmed to. Beats me. Here we go:
‘HEY-MAMA’S-HERE’ TECHNIQUE
This ploy is only applicable to womenfolk with ample bosoms. Yes, it can be a harrowing experience for unknowing souls with heart pure as gold like me. You will be trudging along the uneven cement pathway, trying to overtake the old man in front of you whose steps are timed at 2-minute intervals while dodging the oncoming human traffic from the opposite direction. By the way, did I mention that the pathways are around 3 feet wide that also accommodates two way traffic? You’re getting impatient and SUDDENLY you’ve been nudged off-course by a lady with gigantic buxom. A single maneuver from her set of twins is capable of sending you flying across the street and smack on the wet floor of fishy water and mud. There is no competition. She’d win hands down and she wouldn’t even have felt a thing. Each strike of hers is planned within a fraction of a second, executed with flawless accuracy and boasts of 99.99% hits. One should know ones place. If you’re an A/B cupper, be prepared to lie yourselves down and be walked over. Or else there will be no mercy spared.
‘RATTANY-WHAM-BANG’ TECHNIQUE
Oh man, this is totally sly. A weapon is used in this technique of attacks whereby it is in the form of a basket. The basket in this case is usually weaved from sturdy but flexible rattan or in conforming to technology, plastic. It comes mostly in two shapes, round and oblong. Usually, vegetables, fruits, poultry, meat and fishes are added in to optimize the effect of these babies. To use it, the aunties will carry them baskets in front of them. It will act as a shield for them but a weapon to us. The frontal side of the basket is then nudged and jerked about as the aunties/grandmas weave their way through the crowd. Be very careful when in crowded areas. The possibility of running into ladies wielding the basket has a rate of 10 out of 10. The basket will hit you across your back or your head for that matter given that you are a very small sized individual. For an added effect, you might be slapped with a dangling fishtail or droplets of water from vegetables. And for an instant you’ll be seized with an unpleasant feeling that wrecks your state of mind’s well being. Immediately after deploy you’ll better be running along before she redeploys. A second shot will result in a stronger and more urgent blow.
THE MEE SOUP TECHNIQUE
This is credited to be the slyest of 3 techniques. Swift and deadly. Fortunately, it is not used often. Only the cruelest and most obnoxious of individuals uses this technique. It’ll come at you when you least notice it yet brutal enough to etched the hurt inflicted in your memory. This technique also uses a weapon. It comes in the form of hot soup contained in a flimsy plastic bag. Holding the plastic bag full of hot soup, the sadist would head off. When caught in a crowd the sadist is able to scald unsuspecting individuals with their hot soup bag. The victims would naturally step aside and let the sadist pass through. It’s a knee-jerk effect. And the sadist will be well gone before you can shake your fist at them. Possibility of running into them depends wholly on your luck. But the percentage of successful hits will definitely be 100%.
Well, the above is only the most common used ways used. Happy marketing. And thank god for hyper marts.
Jefferson's Rage...these darn words have been swirling in my mind since last month!! What the hell is that???
This is so confusing that i've popped a trillion brain cells. You could even hear 'em suckers poppin'. Believe me when i said that.
I've been giving them some thought. Hell, I've even tried googling them. Sadly, there's no single result that made any sense whatsoever.
Could anyone enlighten me?