About Me
Links
- lifestyle blog
- ryze
- friendster
Skype: daveavran
Google Talk: dave.avran
Windows Live: dave_avran
Email: dave.avran@gmail.com
Archives
- 03/01/2004 - 04/01/2004
- 04/01/2004 - 05/01/2004
- 05/01/2004 - 06/01/2004
- 06/01/2004 - 07/01/2004
- 07/01/2004 - 08/01/2004
- 08/01/2004 - 09/01/2004
- 09/01/2004 - 10/01/2004
- 10/01/2004 - 11/01/2004
- 11/01/2004 - 12/01/2004
- 12/01/2004 - 01/01/2005
- 01/01/2005 - 02/01/2005
- 02/01/2005 - 03/01/2005
- 03/01/2005 - 04/01/2005
- 04/01/2005 - 05/01/2005
- 05/01/2005 - 06/01/2005
- 06/01/2005 - 07/01/2005
- 07/01/2005 - 08/01/2005
- 08/01/2005 - 09/01/2005
- 09/01/2005 - 10/01/2005
- 10/01/2005 - 11/01/2005
- 11/01/2005 - 12/01/2005
- 12/01/2005 - 01/01/2006
- 01/01/2006 - 02/01/2006
- 02/01/2006 - 03/01/2006
- 03/01/2006 - 04/01/2006
- 04/01/2006 - 05/01/2006
- 05/01/2006 - 06/01/2006
- 06/01/2006 - 07/01/2006
- 07/01/2006 - 08/01/2006
- 08/01/2006 - 09/01/2006
- 09/01/2006 - 10/01/2006
- 10/01/2006 - 11/01/2006
- 11/01/2006 - 12/01/2006
- 12/01/2006 - 01/01/2007
- 01/01/2007 - 02/01/2007
- 11/01/2007 - 12/01/2007
- 12/01/2007 - 01/01/2008
- 01/01/2008 - 02/01/2008
- 02/01/2008 - 03/01/2008
"You don't have to swim faster than the shark, just faster than the guy next to you." - Anonymous
Monday, May 08, 2006
A Suicide, An Execution And Two Harleys
The old man was sitting on a chair, staring out the window when he heard the “pip pip” sound as the electronic pass card was swiped across the lock to his room. The metal door opened and two orderlies entered. He ignored them and continued to stare out the window.
He heard them put his lunch on the table. “Happy Birthday, old man! We’ve included a piece of chocolate cake for dessert as today’s your birthday”. said one of the orderlies gruffly.
“Come on, Gabriel,” said the other one, “he’s got a name so don’t be rude”.”But he never responds to whatever we say – just stares out the bloody window. So old also can go cuckoo because of love” whined Gabriel.
“He’s in his late forties, and when someone you love rejects you, it hurts at any age” replied Haridas, as he touched the old man gently on the right shoulder and told him “Uncle Dave, the doctors have decided that you are not a danger to yourself or anyone else, so we will be moving you to the minimum security wing tomorrow”.
The door clanged shut and the old man refocused his thoughts. He had allowed his mind to go blank to escape their inane chatter. He looked out the window at the green grass, colourful flowers and the other inmates walking around in the compound. Some needed help to walk while others were in wheelchairs.
His thoughts invariably went back to her. His tigress. Born at 1:54 in the morning, she was a hunting tigress, the most dangerous and fearsome according to Feng Shui. He loved her dearly and completely. One day she turned around and told him she was done with him. Then she was gone.
A year later, he had received a card. She was going to marry some white guy. He arranged to meet the white guy, and told him “This is my name card. Treat her like a Princess, love her and cherish her. Hurt her and you’ll have to answer to me”
White guy called the cops. He tore his own shirt and made many false accusations against the old man, claiming he was violent and aggressive. The old man tried to explain that he was only talking, and trying to ensure that his beloved tigress was treated with the respect and love she deserved. The cops chose to believe white guy over him.
Now, it had finally sunk in – she didn’t want him. So he blocked everything and everybody out, because everything and everybody reminded him of her. His hand retrieved the object he had hidden under his right thigh when the orderlies had entered.
He scraped it vertically on the rough cement brick on the side of the window a couple of times, then brought it near his face for inspection. Gingerely he tested the sharp tip with his finger. Almost, but not quite done.
He faced the window, staring out and scraping the toothbrush handle slowly and purposefully. His logic was simple. He had given her his heart. She had rejected it. He simply had no more use for it.
Four months later two Harleys were parked in a hotel basement, next to a black BMW. Lounging on the bikes were Ah Loong Koh, the most feared and respected ganglord in the city and a young recruit eager to prove himself and gain acceptance into the group.
The lift pinged open and white guy emerged hand in hand with a young Chinese girl. They were laughing about some joke he had cracked. As they neared the car white guy took the clicker out of his pocket and unlocked the BMW with a “pick pock” sound.
Ah Loong nodded to his young protégé. Vincent reached inside his jacket and took out the .22. He coolly took aim and fired two shots. White guy reeled backwards and fell against the car, with one bullet hole neatly between the eyes and the other one through his heart, the trademark of a gangland execution. The sound of the Harleys revving up drowned out the girl’s hysterical screams.
“Old habits die hard. You broke your word. You betrayed the tigress and hurt her. Now you have paid the price”. muttered Ah Loong Koh under his breath to complete the transaction.
In the underworld, a man’s word is his bond. Ah Loong Koh spoke softly to his friend the old man: “I have kept my word, brother. I promised to protect your tigress till I die”.
He smiled at the memory of his friend the old man as a patrol car rushed past him on the opposide side of the road, helter-skelter in the direction of the hotel, lights flashing and siren blaring.
