The cab driver detected an accent, figured I wasn’t from around, and decided to butt fuck me.

I met Su Hung at an open air beach-style coffee house at the entrance of Emporium, an “Oh I think I’m So Cool With These Blue Sunglasses” hive. He introduced me to his friends…

Beng
And you guys thought I had a hair problem. This guy is 22 and the hair on his head is thinner than the air on Everest. Oh, and another characteristic defining this man was his total and absolute sedateness. I swear, this guy was hooked up to a Prozac drip or something.

Tee Ch’ng
She works for a left wing underground propagandist newsletter. Their main goal is to injure the status quo and in doing so topple the government. Tee Ch’ng sports a tattoo of a black widow on her frontal hip, a symbol of party affiliation. Often appearing and disappearing from surface society like tropical rain on porous soil she chooses her men to suit her chameleonic lifestyle, foreign naval men who come as they please and who please as they come.

Tee Lee a.k.a Fer-Tee-Lee-Tee
The not so evil twin sister of Tee Ch’ng. An architect by profession, Tee Lee specializes in designing erotic torture chambers for mid-40 year old Japanese business men.

Mom, Dad, Bernie and I set off for the hills slightly before eleven and arrived at about noon. I guess the purpose of the trip was for me to see our Amber Court apartment for the first time. I wasn’t too impressed by the moss chewed exterior but the apartment itself was really cozy. I think it would be a real riot to have a dozen or so people up there at one time. I was famished by lunch time so we moseyed over to the mushroom farm for a delightful meal with home-cooked written all over it.

Gentings was particularly cold and foggy that day and it would have been awesome to have a cuddle partner. Kinda sucks when the only females with you are your sister and your mum.

I don’t think there was a time I didn’t have to wait at the dentist. This ritual of making patients wait made certain that one had enough time to savor the good things to come.

“Mr. Chin,” a female voice called out semi-chirpyly. I looked up and towards the nurse’s window.

“Mr. Chin,” her voice called out again, this time a little lower and a wee bit more stern.

Our eyes met in the middle of the room, acknowledgment on my part that I was the owner of the name just flaunted across the waiting room. I reluctantly placed both hands on my knees, strained myself vertical and walked towards the man behind the door, the man I was going to pay a great deal of money to inflict pain on me. I made it through the wooden frame and the door closed behind me.