So I was whistling the "Loving You" song by Minnie Riperton because I was thinking about Generation Kill in the shower when I saw my mom's shadow against the toilet door. I could tell she was bringing the clothes in.
Me: MOMMY! WHAT YOU DOING!!!!?
(I love shouting very loud all of a sudden to scare my mom, or like knocking very hard < BAM BAM BAM! > on her toilet door when she's bathing and thus giving her a scare, even though this has happened so many times I think she shouldn't be scared anymore, but she still does get scared.)
Mommy: Tou Kan Ni! (Tom-peeping you!)
Me
(Shampoo foam getting into eyes): Nice a not!?
Mommy: Neneh dua dua liap! HAHAHA! (Neneh very big!)
Me: You then!!!
She continued to do her stuff so I started whistling again. I suddenly realised how peaceful things are, no Indian music!
Okay, maybe I should provide you with some background about my Indian neighbours. Or maybe they're not Indians, but just like to blast the same few Indian songs on their stereo every morning.
Anyway, since we've moved to this Clementi flat, it seems that they took the "Welcome to your new home above us"-thing to another level.
By blasting chanting-Indian music on their speakers, EVERY SINGLE MORNING.
And mostly at 7am. Or around there. And they keep replaying the song until the afternoon.
I swear I can even whistle the tunes to you. The rest of my family can too. Or they try to. Like my sister, who I sometimes think is a bit tone-deaf. HA HA HA.
So I really hate them. I've tried to keep things civil by shouting at them through the toilet window (it faces their room below us) to shut the hell up. Okay, I said tried to. But I mean, can you imagine being woken up almost every morning by the same 2 Indian songs! That's loud enough to be even heard through a whole floor below us!!!?
One day, which was on a Saturday and my parents weren't home, my sister saw me in the kitchen filling up plastic bags with water.
2nd sis: Er, what you doing?
Me: I want to throw water bombs at them. (Indicating the Indian neighbours because just then their music was freaking loud.)
2nd sis: You very wu-liao you know.
Me: Want to help me?
2nd sis: NO...think I so free is it.
I filled up about 3 bags and took my WOMD (Weapons of Mass Destruction) to the toilet. I took my niece's pink stool and stood up on it. Since, I'm so short, I had to stand on the toilet bowl to get a clear view from the window to their house.
SPLAT!
The first bag totally missed their window and landed on someone's air-con fan-thing below. Oops, sorry.
SPLASH!!!
Me: WUHOO! Er Jie I just hit their window!!
2nd sis (Making her coffee): Sure not. Later you get caught I sure laugh at you one.
Me: TSK.
PIAK!
Shit, the third one got hit by their window ledge.
Anyway, after that water-bomb exercise, they stopped playing their music so loudly. And now, I hardly ever hear it anymore. To the point of not hearing it at all.
Mission accomplished.
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"Pocahontas. Wonderful children's cartoon," Colbert says. "I like the music."
"Dog, Pocahontas is another case of your people shitting on mine. What's the true story of Pocahontas? White boys come into the new land, deceive a corrupt Indian chief, kill ninety percent of the men and rape all the women. What does Disney do? They make this tragedy , the genocide of my people, into a love story with a singing racoon. I ask you, would a white man make a love story about Auschwitz where a skinny-ass inmate falls in love with a guard, with a singing racoon and dancing swastikas? Dog, I was ashamed for my daughter to see this."
"Just what race are you, Poke?" Colbert asks, referring to Espera by the nickname only his friends use. "I mean, are you Latino, Indian or white? Or are you just whatever race happens to be cool at the time?"
"Shut up, white boy, and go eat a baloney sandwich," Espera says.
- Generation Kill by Evan Wright.
