The Republic of Awesome

Note: Read the disclaimer in the footer of my blog. No you can’t sue me

Last week, I was having tea/dinner/something with the missus in some place called Kinrara. No, it’s not in Puchong; it’s somewhere in Sri Petaling. Yes I’m very confused myself, but fuck it - a place with food is a place with food and I’m not one to argue about the specifics.

Without digressing too much, it was getting late and I had to get the car back home soon or there’d be hell to pay. Not a problem really, since home wasn’t far away and I had in excess of 20 minutes to do the traveling.

However (as stories like this always require a big-ass ‘however’), Murphy’s Law decided to spring up and give me a harsh FALCON KICK to the bollocks.

Double parked next to my car was a lil Kancil.

FUCKKK!!

As if to add insult to injury, there were plenty of empty parking spaces just a few meters down the road. It was so empty I could probably cram half of Singapore into the area.

The person who drove the Kancil is very clearly either a selfish prick, or a poor victim of loan sharks who has to crawl by the bloody stumps of his severed legs to get to the shop in front.

Noting the lack of blood on the pavement however, I’d go with the former.

“Well at least it’s sort of staggered ahead of your car,” my girlfriend offered. “You should be able to squeeze out of the small gap behind.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

I got into the car and started the engine. Manipulating the gears between 1st and reverse, I got the car to do the cha cha dance as I tried to squeeze out.

To no avail.

I am going to be late.

At this point I was swearing like Gordon Ramsay coaching McDonald’s employees on the finer points of gourmet cooking. It didn’t help that the car was like a Jew-incinerating oven with the radiator malfunctioning.

Finally, with some direction from the missus, I manage to just barely squeeze my car out from the parking  lot. Ten minutes had been wasted trying to maneuver out.

Fuming mad, I was at a point where I’d destroy half a city block at the slightest provocation. There was no more reasoning with me.

I reached into the coin compartment of the car and dug through the coins.

Fifty sen? No, that’s wayy too much to spend on this. Twenty sen? No, that’s too exorbitant too. One sen? Well I suppose, but it doesn’t have much grip.

Ten sen. That’s the way to go.

“OMG what are you doing???”

There was no way she could stop me.

I reached out of the window, the 10 sen coin firmly gripped between my thumb and index finger. Banking the car to the right, I made contact with the surface of the Kancil.

Applying pressure on the coin to make sure it really got into the paintwork, I continued driving. I watched as the coin left a trail of destruction on the car’s champagne coloured finish.

Laughing as I drove off, I knew the answer to what 10 sen can buy me: satisfaction.

Moral of the story - Don’t double park. You don’t know what some psychos will do to your car!