I had enough of writing for the consumption of others. Today I write for me. Me, me, me. Oh? Is the editor going to strangle me with barb wire if I do? Rubbish. The editor with-a-cute-nose will merely succumb to my unearthly will, to my unmatched authority! I shall not write for the amusement of others. Fuck them all. Today is MY DAY! Begone, Editor! Do not disturb me from the pit of madness and profanity. Allow me the dignity (if I have one) of writing what I want. And what I want is simple…
I am so bloody exhausted. Yes I know you are too, but who cares! It is me that I am writing about, not about you, fortunately. I do think of quitting my night job, to smash the ACER laptop on the boss’ door, strip naked in front of everyone, BUTT naked, and run down the staircase, screaming my lungs out – and smiling briefly for some snapshots of myself.
Yes, I know YOU, you’re not going to stop reading this, eh? Well good, read on… And when I do finally get arrested, and manhandled, by two flushed-face, grim-looking cops, I’ll be heading off to the nearby prison. Oh yes, and there I will find myself in the arms of a 6-foot, 350 lbs male cellmate by the name of Betty. Provocative thought aye? Yeah, I bet you wish it so.
I am actually thinking of a holiday. A holiday worthy of my glorious arrogance and sexually deprived life. I detest working in this office, with all these peacocks and pricks kissing up, some licking, to the boss. Aye, this boss is a brutal one, though with her brutality I do admire her iron-fist style of rule especially with a miserable office like this one. I don’t blame her personally, I do think she is a fucking efficient boss, though maybe perverted at times – during those late nights… Ahem. Anyway, blame my madness for deviating from the topic… hmm… what topic? Aye, the holiday, hmmm… a mountainous resort with a spa built on some underground ancient hot spring. However the nearest mountain that is within the vicinity, is sadly a volcano, some 500-odd miles from here. So fuck it. Where was I? Aye, the resort… I want the Grand Emperor’s “Oh, Kiss My Ass” Suite, with two female butlers serving me lamb shanks – slowly simmered with fresh rosemary, garlic, tomatoes and red wine. Yeah! Now we’re talking, baby! I love these episodes of mental masturbation, a swift dream combo of holiday and food.
What is stopping me from feasting myself on this bizarre dream? Sadly the obstacle is ME. Regardless of what fucked-up shit excuses that I may have about my work or my fiendish, fondling co-workers, I am undoubtedly my own obstacle. I choose to be in this screwed predicament. I can easily break from it. Aye. Why don’t I do it now? Hmmmm… so tempting. Let me unplug my ACER laptop first…
Zashnain
An avid blogger, twitterer and photojournalist, Zashnain Zainal suffers from an incurable addiction to social work, helping marginalised communities since 1989. Nowadays he travels from the plantations of Malaysia to the slums of Thailand. He can be found at zashnain.com and @bedlamfury
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mental masochism and masturbation.
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