JT Alexander was giving me a hard time by favouring the Libyan giant. I was accused of being an irresponsible slacker. Little that JT Alexander knew, the Libyan giant manipulated my whole work to make it his own. As much as I fought for my rights in the dreaded institution, the Arabs will always prevail. The sole reason was because the Arabs contribute more to the institution’s financial figure. Ah, fuck it!

I made my way home, imagining the comfort of my bed to sleep off my problems. That was when my dreamgirl called.

I would like to treat you dinner tonight” she said on the phone.

Well, things might be better after all I thought.

That night I picked her up and we had dinner together. She chose the restaurant. Nothing fancy, just an average eatery for average people. Well, it was a moment of tranquility where I lost track of all my problems. It was just me and my dreamgirl.

After dinner we walked our way to my car. The green Kancil that some people refer it as blue. Well, yeah, the pink slip stated blue as the car’s colour. As we were walking, suddenly my dreamgirl stopped me in front of a furniture store. She dragged me inside.

I would like to buy a book rack” she said.
Sure” I replied.

She browsed the whole floor, searching for the best rack she could possibly see. Then she saw one nice post-bohemian small-sized rack on the display. She picked up the box of heavy unassembled piece.

Could you please carry this to the counter” she said to me.
Errr, actually three units altogether. One for me and the other two for my friends” she added.

I was staggered. I think I knew why she wanted to treat me dinner. I kept myself in silence and carried those three racks to the payment counter and then to the car. In between, she added two modern-minimalistic vases and a cheap pencil case. Ah, fuck it!

Sweaty from the night of hard-labour, I drove her and her things home.


The following week I took my dreamgirl out on a date. We had a good time and thankfully, she didn’t use me for anything. We were on our slow journey, approaching her home when I asked her, “Could you be my girl?

She looked at me with a frown and shouted, “Ah, jangan mengada-ngada lah!!

Because the car was moving slowly, and her house was just nearby, she opened the door and ran home. She didn’t even close the car door. I was left in the car, trembling as if I’ve just seen a ghost. What the fuck did I do wrong? I’m sure she can be more polite no matter how she feels about me. Ah, fuck it! I lit up a cigarette and drove home while my hands were still shivering.

Two days later she changed her phone number and I haven’t seen her since.