Parting Words
Hello blog. here's my humble attempt at a quaint (and elusive) concept called local literature.
Parting Words
Malicious thoughts ran back and forth through Jonny’s mind behind a cigarette.
Jonathan was careful not to let the ashes scatter all over the floor. Melissa had been trying to get him to quit for the past year and Jonathan listened to his girlfriend all the time. Well most of the time. He didn’t want to get caught for smoking in the storeroom. He knew it was dangerous. 200 people have died of spontaneous human combustion in recorded history and Jonathan couldn’t stop random facts like that from coming into his head. He started to regret lighting up in the storeroom. How was he going to clear up the smell by tomorrow? At least that little act of rebellion felt good for that one small moment.
His hands worked expertly through the packets of field rations as he unpacked and packed them into neatly labelled cardboard boxes. He had gotten into the routine two hours ago and he didn’t need to think about it anymore. Seven packets of main-course rations per section member from this box, seven packets of refreshment rations per section member from that box, stack alternate and vertical until there was a bit of space left at the edge, and move on to the next row. The remote control in his mind alternated between three thought channels: cursing his officer, where his platoon was enjoying their nights out, and how he was going to wake up at 8.30am, book out and claim his “birthday off-day”.
Jonathan sealed up his eleventh box of combat rations with masking tape. He stood up, twisted his torso sideways and stretched his arms high up towards the ceiling. A brown moth had landed high up on a wall in front of Jonathan. An intricate black pattern ran along the periphery of its wide wings, which were splayed horizontally across the concrete surface.
“If I could stuff that thing up his ass... “Jonathan said to himself
The corner of his mouth lifted a little.
“Jor you shouldn’t say things like that you know”
It could only be Jonathan’s cousin. Jor was his childhood name and Swee Keng was his only relative in camp.
“Wa lau you gave me a fright. Why are you here? Are the rest of the guys back yet?”
“Sorry. No I don’t think so. But then again I wouldn’t know. How’re you doing?”
“Like that lor. I seriously think Warrant Pandini is sick in the head. Why the hell does a Master Warrant care about small things like combat rations? And the bloody exercise is three weeks away, why must I get victimised like this? That bloody old cock is sadistic la.”
Jonathan looked at the remaining ration packs and made a quick estimation. Two half boxes of rations should mean a whole box of rations left to pack. Jonathan had a curse word for every green packet in sight.
“You know, in the future, you’re going to look back on small mishaps like that. And seriously these things will make you smile at yourself. Life will only get more complicated you know? Just remember to stop and count your blessings when you get sad. Anyway I’m so happy you’re going to uni. Think you’ll enjoy it as much as Siang did.”
“My father enjoyed uni meh. Don’t think he did well right. He didn’t even get honours. And how did you know that. Your father told you ar.”
Jonathan had settled back into his field chair, making sure that all three interlocking legs of the tripod formation were stable and his buttocks were firmly planted on the canvas that stretched across the top of the leg stands. The folding chair was developed at 1500 bc as a portable chair for the commanding officer in the army. It was also treated in Egypt as a symbol of divinity, fit only for kings. Jonathan was Lord and Commander of his rations tonight as these thoughts broke the monotony of his packing.
“The older you get, the more you know. The more you know, the unhappier you become. When you get out of here, you will realise that many unpleasant life experiences are waiting for you. Especially once you start earning money. Jonny, you must remember not to put all your hope into these things that you try to earn. Sometimes they disappoint you. Treat Melissa well ok.”
“Yeah I will la. She’s really pretty. And why are you talking like that tonight? Then again I can imagine getting philosophical if I’m going to ORD next month. I’ll have all the time in the world on leave to think anyway right. Eh how does it feel to be leaving?”
“It feels liberating. Anyway I just wanted to say you some things to you before I go. And if I were you, I would stop smoking that thing. Cancer is really a terrible thing.”
Jonathan started thinking about how he would dispense his words of advice to other campmates just before his ORD. Assuming he doesn’t drop dead for training next week, that is. In forty eight percent of deaths in the SAF, servicemen dropped dead in the midst of routine training activities. Jonathan wanted to tell his cousin about that little factual snippet, but instead decided to keep those words in his mind. Jonny’s little conversational eccentricities could wait; especially with people he thought didn’t understand him.
“Eh I’m finally going to be done with this whole packing shit. Yeah I remember Daddy telling me about that tumour that Ah Gong had in his throat. If only he was around for a while longer. I was so young la.”
Jonathan was Ah Gong’s favourite grandchild.
“Yeah if only, Jonny. If only. Actually, there’s something I need to pass to you.”
“Come in la. I’ll open the door for you. I’ll be done in a few minutes.”
“No it’s okay, really. I need to go now and I won’t be seeing you in quite a while. Take care, Jor. I’ve left it at the door.”
“Eh, Swee Keng! Come in la.”
Jonathan dropped the masking tape and made his way to the door.
“Swee Keng, you still there?”
Jonathan opened the door and stepped out of the room. He felt the cool night air and the sweat evaporate from his face, arms and legs. He looked at either direction of the long corridor and Swee Keng was nowhere in sight. An old looking soft cover notebook lay on the concrete floor to his left, next to the doorway. It was one of those brown coloured ring-bound paper notebooks that Jonathan knew was popular in the 1940s. Ah Gong used to keep one of those ancient things in his shirt pocket, and young Jonathan was always curious to know what he wrote inside.
“Memories Jor, memories” was Ah Gong’s reply most of the time.
Jonathan flipped open the notebook to find an entry dated nineteen sixty-two. It was Siang’s full-month and as Jonathan read about his Grandfather’s thoughts on his firstborn, the moth that was on the wall started flapping its large brown wings and flew in irregular circles around the room. It found its way to the door, flew past Jonathan who was still concentrating on the notebook, and disappeared into the night never to be seen again.
Thanks for reading if you've come this far.
Parting Words
Malicious thoughts ran back and forth through Jonny’s mind behind a cigarette.
Jonathan was careful not to let the ashes scatter all over the floor. Melissa had been trying to get him to quit for the past year and Jonathan listened to his girlfriend all the time. Well most of the time. He didn’t want to get caught for smoking in the storeroom. He knew it was dangerous. 200 people have died of spontaneous human combustion in recorded history and Jonathan couldn’t stop random facts like that from coming into his head. He started to regret lighting up in the storeroom. How was he going to clear up the smell by tomorrow? At least that little act of rebellion felt good for that one small moment.
His hands worked expertly through the packets of field rations as he unpacked and packed them into neatly labelled cardboard boxes. He had gotten into the routine two hours ago and he didn’t need to think about it anymore. Seven packets of main-course rations per section member from this box, seven packets of refreshment rations per section member from that box, stack alternate and vertical until there was a bit of space left at the edge, and move on to the next row. The remote control in his mind alternated between three thought channels: cursing his officer, where his platoon was enjoying their nights out, and how he was going to wake up at 8.30am, book out and claim his “birthday off-day”.
Jonathan sealed up his eleventh box of combat rations with masking tape. He stood up, twisted his torso sideways and stretched his arms high up towards the ceiling. A brown moth had landed high up on a wall in front of Jonathan. An intricate black pattern ran along the periphery of its wide wings, which were splayed horizontally across the concrete surface.
“If I could stuff that thing up his ass... “Jonathan said to himself
The corner of his mouth lifted a little.
“Jor you shouldn’t say things like that you know”
It could only be Jonathan’s cousin. Jor was his childhood name and Swee Keng was his only relative in camp.
“Wa lau you gave me a fright. Why are you here? Are the rest of the guys back yet?”
“Sorry. No I don’t think so. But then again I wouldn’t know. How’re you doing?”
“Like that lor. I seriously think Warrant Pandini is sick in the head. Why the hell does a Master Warrant care about small things like combat rations? And the bloody exercise is three weeks away, why must I get victimised like this? That bloody old cock is sadistic la.”
Jonathan looked at the remaining ration packs and made a quick estimation. Two half boxes of rations should mean a whole box of rations left to pack. Jonathan had a curse word for every green packet in sight.
“You know, in the future, you’re going to look back on small mishaps like that. And seriously these things will make you smile at yourself. Life will only get more complicated you know? Just remember to stop and count your blessings when you get sad. Anyway I’m so happy you’re going to uni. Think you’ll enjoy it as much as Siang did.”
“My father enjoyed uni meh. Don’t think he did well right. He didn’t even get honours. And how did you know that. Your father told you ar.”
Jonathan had settled back into his field chair, making sure that all three interlocking legs of the tripod formation were stable and his buttocks were firmly planted on the canvas that stretched across the top of the leg stands. The folding chair was developed at 1500 bc as a portable chair for the commanding officer in the army. It was also treated in Egypt as a symbol of divinity, fit only for kings. Jonathan was Lord and Commander of his rations tonight as these thoughts broke the monotony of his packing.
“The older you get, the more you know. The more you know, the unhappier you become. When you get out of here, you will realise that many unpleasant life experiences are waiting for you. Especially once you start earning money. Jonny, you must remember not to put all your hope into these things that you try to earn. Sometimes they disappoint you. Treat Melissa well ok.”
“Yeah I will la. She’s really pretty. And why are you talking like that tonight? Then again I can imagine getting philosophical if I’m going to ORD next month. I’ll have all the time in the world on leave to think anyway right. Eh how does it feel to be leaving?”
“It feels liberating. Anyway I just wanted to say you some things to you before I go. And if I were you, I would stop smoking that thing. Cancer is really a terrible thing.”
Jonathan started thinking about how he would dispense his words of advice to other campmates just before his ORD. Assuming he doesn’t drop dead for training next week, that is. In forty eight percent of deaths in the SAF, servicemen dropped dead in the midst of routine training activities. Jonathan wanted to tell his cousin about that little factual snippet, but instead decided to keep those words in his mind. Jonny’s little conversational eccentricities could wait; especially with people he thought didn’t understand him.
“Eh I’m finally going to be done with this whole packing shit. Yeah I remember Daddy telling me about that tumour that Ah Gong had in his throat. If only he was around for a while longer. I was so young la.”
Jonathan was Ah Gong’s favourite grandchild.
“Yeah if only, Jonny. If only. Actually, there’s something I need to pass to you.”
“Come in la. I’ll open the door for you. I’ll be done in a few minutes.”
“No it’s okay, really. I need to go now and I won’t be seeing you in quite a while. Take care, Jor. I’ve left it at the door.”
“Eh, Swee Keng! Come in la.”
Jonathan dropped the masking tape and made his way to the door.
“Swee Keng, you still there?”
Jonathan opened the door and stepped out of the room. He felt the cool night air and the sweat evaporate from his face, arms and legs. He looked at either direction of the long corridor and Swee Keng was nowhere in sight. An old looking soft cover notebook lay on the concrete floor to his left, next to the doorway. It was one of those brown coloured ring-bound paper notebooks that Jonathan knew was popular in the 1940s. Ah Gong used to keep one of those ancient things in his shirt pocket, and young Jonathan was always curious to know what he wrote inside.
“Memories Jor, memories” was Ah Gong’s reply most of the time.
Jonathan flipped open the notebook to find an entry dated nineteen sixty-two. It was Siang’s full-month and as Jonathan read about his Grandfather’s thoughts on his firstborn, the moth that was on the wall started flapping its large brown wings and flew in irregular circles around the room. It found its way to the door, flew past Jonathan who was still concentrating on the notebook, and disappeared into the night never to be seen again.
Thanks for reading if you've come this far.
posted by tcy at
4:04 AM
1 Comments:
hello this is the first time i'm visiting your blog.
if nothing else, our creative writing course gave us material for blogging haha.
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Unknown, at 7:12 PM
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