#179: Optimus Prime Is A Thief!- Part 1

Okay. So I was bored. I had finished Season 2 of How I Met Your Mother (post coming out soon), watched I Think I Love My Wife, (see how family-friendly I am?) and well, was bored out of my guts.

When I'm bored, I'd drive over to The Curve, visit a few relatives in Seremban, chill at Singapore, OR go cycling. Yeah. So today, I vouched for cycling.

As I pushed my bike out of the lift into the lobby (where people would leave unwanted stuff for fellow residents to scavenge for), I laid my eyes on a glass coffee-table that was in a reasonably good shape. And since no one was watching over it and me being the typical, free-loading Malaysian, my brother (who decided not to let me have my 'emo time' and follow me) and I took the table up to Mummy, who gleamed with pride at the talent of Iknowhowtogetgoodjunk she had passed down to her brilliant, extremely good-looking sons.

And just as the both of us finally started out on our imaginary escapade to the labyrinth, (better known as 'park') I noticed an old Cina lady, a middle-aged Cina lady, and a small Cina girl who seemed like they were snooping around the same place that I plucked the jolly ol' coffee-table from. 'Too bad, those losers. Probably could find a handsome, 15 year-old, left-handed boy who could carry the table up for them all by himself.' I thought, 'They're amateurs in freeloading- compared to me.'

So yeah, the evening was your typical day at the park. Well, MY typical day at the park. Ignoring the bewildered stares from the Tai Chi practicing uncles and aunties as we sped down slopes that, well, lasted for a good five seconds. Then we went swimming as I continued my 'I'm Gonna Have A Six-pack By This Month' campaign. Just kidding. I finished that campaign a year ago.


Author's Note: I know you're probably wondering why I gave this post such an inappropriate title, but we're getting there. If you're feeling bored, go drink a glass of milk, listen to a Switchfoot album, and continue this post.


Yes we're back, and I ALREADY know how good Switchfoot is. So, moving on, me and my brother (who I'm more good-looking than- I thought I'd add that in) returned from our emotional bonding session #902, and I had gotten to know that he doesn't like that girl named 'Tania' for the hundred and second time. So just as I was thinking I'd be lucky the hundred and third time, I noticed a hand-written sign just beside the lift doors. All I caught was a glimpse, but it involved two words: 'meja cermin,' which translates to glass table. Yes, uh-oh.

Telling your parents that the 'itgoessowellwiththefurniture' coffee-table that they didn't have to spend a single penny on isn't too hard, but when your 'yougohandleitcuzineedtorest' dad decides not to return the table back, I'd say panicking was a logical thing to do.

"There is a time in every man's life when he has to sacrifice all he has for the sake of his children, to pull them out of the clutches of evil. Alan Cha Cheong Chong, now is the time."

Sadly, that 'heroic' speech didn't work. Neither did adding "And that goes for mothers too." to Mum help. So I breathed in, and just as regular as Danielle plays sports, I THOUGHT. I was proud of myself in the end, I only took ten full minutes thinking of a highly complex plan:

Return the table.

Hey! It wasn't easy, okay? Try doing it when you're in trouble and your parents aren't supporting you. So, for the second time in a year, I thought again. (I admit it. Homeschooling requires no brains) I decided that anybody could have lost a glass table, not the Cina ladies I saw before. So after dinner, I went down to the ground floor and took a good look at the sign. It was in Malay, and you don't have to think to understand that, so my thinking counter stayed at two. (Kidding!) So basically, it said something along the lines of 'Whoever took the table (What? Couldn't a strong wind blow it away?) please return in to floor #14, door #10.'

There were two problems: 1. They had reported the incident to the management! The place where the 'jogging guy' (remind me to tell you bout that story) worked at! Oh no! 2. I could have been more sensible and take the lift up to the fourteenth floor, but I was afraid that maybe some neighborhood watch housewifes would ambush me in the lift, so I opted for taking the stairs. It was the fourteenth floor. I lived on the sixth.


Author's Note: Okay, so we're not really 'getting there'. The story's turned out to be a little lengthy, so we'll stop now. I'll let you get back to listening to another of Switchfoot's albums. Look out for Part 2 in the near future here on my blog, to find out why 'Optimus Prime Is A Thief!' Oh, and no, homeschooling does require brains. You fell for it, you public-schooling doofus.