Close Encounter of a Johnny Kind BY -D-

to start, let's give the guy involved with this story a name..... say, "J". can't remember for the life or me on exactly when this took place, but it was during the whole "Hantu Purdah" fiasco, so, '96-ish? '97?

at around the time, we opened up a simple, small resturant, just a few kilometres from the border. now enter J, the cook. an Iban by blood, J was, what many in the mid-90's would see, an Adonis. tall with a chiseled chin, and cheekbones, a long, silky stoner style hair, muscles that would knock any ladies off their feet, made more prominent with his sets of tight white t-shirts and jeans..... believe me people, i'm trying as hard as i can to sound very heterosexual here. anyway, since we couldn't exactly pay him enough for him to rent an apartment or anything, he slept over at our place.

one day, months after he moved in with us, one of our maids made the clumsy mistake of mistaking J's possessions that he stuffed in a trash bag (not a lot of space to put his stuff since he was sleeping in my room as well), including his passport, as trash and threw it out on the garbage bin outside the gate. that night, after returning from work, and a few heated remarks towards the maid, he went to dig in the bin to get back his belongings, most of which were now soaked in the usual foul smelling liquid you usually get in a garbage bin. having gotten most of his stuffs back except for his passport, he decided to dig in deeper and sink his head in. not long after he did, he felt a quick and sudden pain from his right bicep and quickly jerked his head out of the bin. he looked around: nothing. he looked at his arm: a bluish-black spot, with 2 small parallel cuts, still bleeding. also, in the air was a faint, familiar scent: frangipani. not being a believer of such a thing, he shrugged it off as having stung by a bee, and the smell being his imagination. my mom thought otherwise as the 2 parallel cuts on his arm resembles a cut made by finger nails from being pinched really hard.

a few day after the incident, being a given the day-off the day after, J decided to stay up late and, like me, wait for some boobs to show up on star movies. he was sitting on one of the chairs with a window close to his right, leading directly to the garage. beyond that, after the fence, is the infamous field i mentioned so many times. hours later, at around 3 AM, he was ripe and ready to doze off. too ripe, in fact, he was too lazy make his way to the bedroom, and decided to sleep on the chair instead. awhile after closing his eyes, he caught a good, strong whiff of frangipani up his nose, and the moment he realises this, he felt a quick and sudden pain on his right bicep, which was facing the window, at exactly the same spot as the first incident. it was the exact same cut as last time, only deeper now, and the bluish-black spot now very swollen.

my mom commented later that day how "it" must've thought how cute J was.