Paranormal Activity

So I woke up today, brushed my teeth, and went downstairs. Then I realized that I left my phone upstairs, so I went back up. Upon reaching upstairs, I put some Colgate on my brush, and started brushing my teeth. As I was tirelessly brushing with style, quality, and excellence, I had this weird sensation in me as if I was being watched. Being a horror movie maniac who has just about sat through every horror movie; including Twilight and Hannah Montana; without flinching a single muscle, I was not fazed and brushed it off thinking that it's probably my body's way of telling me that it has been a day and I had to take a shit or something. So I turned around, faced my ass, and gave it a good pat saying "it's not time yet oh brave one, do not be impatient, when the time is right I shall summon you and RELEASE THE KRAKENNN!"

I continued brushing and I could see a small part of my gums were bleeding, then I recalled how my dentist told me that I always brush wrong, so I figured why not use the right method for once. His method was brilliant, I could see all that dirt stuck between my teeth falling off, as well as other stuff that I never knew were there such as, refrigerators, tv sets, a jumbo jet, a sledge hammer, a bunch of Nickelodean DVD's, as well as some lasers and ninjas and shit. I was almost finished with my brushing so I turned on the tap as I prepared to spit everything out, and TO MY HORROR!! WATER CAME OUT!!! There and then, from that paranormal phenomena, I knew something was not right, I knew I was indeed being watched. Then I recalled how my grandma once told me that when you turn on the tap and water comes out, it's actually the supernatural communicating with you and telling you that you have to drink more water as water is an essential part of our nutrition so that we can stay healthy and have a good life.

I was OFFENDED!! Nobody tells me what to do and how to live my life. That was it, that was my final straw, I had enough of this bullshit, I decided that once I was done with brushing my teeth, I would look up and call someone who is an expert in these matters; such as a medium or a priest; and tell him to buy for me more straws. So I ignored the warning signs and went back to gargling everything out. As I bent down to gargle my mouth, from the far corner of my eye I saw a black figure with bloodshot eyes staring at me. The feeling I had at that moment is indescribable, adrenalin rushed through my body faster than a speeding Ah Beng in a modified turbo Kancil. The hair at the back of my neck stood up, including the hair at the top of my hand, the hair at the top of my leg, my thighs, my forearm, my shoulders, my triceps, my biceps, my....Yeah yeah I'm hairy, I'm Punjabi remember??

So anyway where was I? Ahh yes, the hair in my body all stood up without even using Gatsby gel and I froze, I literally froze, I could not move a single muscle. So I did what anyone else in my position would do and pressed CTRL+ALT+DEL and restarted Windows. While waiting for my body to reboot, I realized what beautiful nails I had and started wondering why weren't I modeling for a nails magazine. My body had resumed, but I still did not want to turn and see what that figure was as the volume icon on my startbar hadn't show up so I still couldn't make any sound after seeing it. Not that I wanted to scream or anything, I was just worried that the figure might go downstairs and finish off the last readymate pizza in my freezer, and I wouldn't be able to call the cops and tell them that I ran out of pizza. So a good few seconds later, the icon finally showed up, and I could still see the figure staring at me from afar. I knew I was not prepared to live in fear of losing more pizzas for the rest of my life, so I braced myself, mustered enough courage, and turned around so I could face the figure. I looked it in the face, and there it was, I had found my black phone.

Then I remembered that brushing my teeth was not the reason I came up for. True story.

The Unknown

I would like to take this opportunity to thank Youtube and Google for always being there by my side when the bus seats are vacant, uhh, sorry I meant when problems arise. The latest complication occurred just a while ago as I was about to make Milo and was required to open a new can of condensed milk.

It was a dark and stormy night, a shadow of darkness had engulfed the everlasting skies, bringing upon a wave of gloom consuming everything but the lucent beam of the midnight moon. Then, hunger burned through faltering bridges of my belly, as it constantly cried for help, creating in me a sense of fear, an uneasiness that drove me on my conquest to search for food to put an end to this crippling fear for good.

So anyway I ran past the summer glades, crawled through the deep-shaded caves, climbed up the misty mountains, and arrived at a place so unfamiliar, it was almost alien-like I should say, the locals in my house called it a "kitchen". They say that even the toughest of men fail to survive there, as kitchens were usually haunted by female auras that would suck the masculinity out of men when entered. Story goes that there once lived a famous tribal warrior called Lukukuka who wanted to make a sandwich. Lukukuka was so brave that he went into the kitchen all by himself. He managed to make himself a sandwich, but just as he was about to eat it, the sandwich turned into a polka dot fire-breathing frog with chopsticks. Lukukuka survived the fire, but he was no match for the godly chopsticks.

Upon hearing this terrifying tale, I was more determined than ever to carry out this near-impossible conquest. That's right, I'm going into the kitchen, I'm the fuckin man yo. So I offered a prayer to the kitchen gods, asking for permission to enter the devil's lair, and received my approval through a letter from the Obama Administration. They sent me a Hello Kitty keychain too, what a bunch of nice lads don't you think?

So I manned up and started searching for a tool to assist me in my journey to Utopia, a tool stronger than the strongest toilet paper, faster than the fastest garden snail, and sharper than the sharpest eraser. A tool, like the "can-opener". In all my 21 years of breathing, I have never been required to use a can-opener, until now. For long periods, I struggled to figure out the ingenious physics behind this mystifying tool. The key to unlocking its hidden powers were well beyond my capabilities, so I called in my brother, hoping that he could solve the Can-inci Code to this ancient artifact. The outcome was as I expected, the intelligence in his bald head was no different to mine. We tried everything, even calling the fire brigade, but they were too busy doing less important stuff, like putting out fires and saving children from burning houses.

As a last resort, I turned to Google, which then linked me to a video on Youtube. Twenty seconds into the video and I realized that the sun was hot today; a rare phenomena. Anyway, after watching the video, I learned that you're not supposed to use a can-opener as you would with a sledgehammer. Ahhhh, that was the problem. So I immediately took the next flight to China to master the ancient Kung Fu art of can-opening. 33 years later, I returned with insane new skills, superior technique, and a bowl of noodles from Shanghai. On my first try, I managed to dent the can. On my second try, I double dented it. I knew I was getting there, it was only a matter of time. 64,578 tries later, I got it, the can was opened. It stood no chance, it was a victory, a victory for mankind. True story.

Note: This post is purely meant satirically, no feminism intended.

Tragedy

So everyone decided to leave me home alone with my nephew today. Hours passed by and it was all going good. But just then, heavens descended into the depths of hell and all hell broke loose as he bounced up the sofa faster than a snail on steroids and rushed towards the empty corner of the house, standing there in an awkward robotic dance stance; a stance that you would only see Robocop using when he had a sandwich stuck up his ass.

I became suspicious, so I walked towards him and asked him what was he doing. My suspicion grew as he told me he was "looking for something". That's right, looking for something in the most emptiest corner of the house where all you could hear was the sound of oxygen being swallowed into our Indian lungs, and all you could see was out the window, where a half naked bearded guy holding a grenade was running on the street chasing a pigeon while consistently shouting the name of Allah.

This was a serious case, and due to the reluctance of the suspect to comply in the investigation, I was constrained into calling the FBI(Federal Bowel-movement Investigation Unit). Upon further interrogation, the frustrated suspect finally gave in and told us the not-so-shocking truth. The truth that will change history, the truth that will make humans second-think everything in existence, the truth that will change the future of mankind, the dirty truth, that he needed to take a shit.

I was caught off-guard, never expecting this tragedy to happen without anyone to clean it up. At that point, my "Shit-in-the-pants senses" were tingling, and I knew the end was near, too near for my liking, not to mention chocolaty as well. At that point, all kinds of disturbing images flowed into my head and coincidentally they all started with his baby butt. So being the great, and caring uncle that I was, I carried him and placed him on the toilet seat hoping for the best, expecting the worst. Every second felt like an eternity as I anxiously waited something "magical" to happen, something like the Toothfairy getting fired from her job and finding a new career path in collecting crap instead of teeth.

Nope, that didn't happen. But what did happen was that my nephew came to a conclusion that his shit wasn't gonna come out. I told him to remained seated just to make sure, but he was convinced that it was a false alarm and told me in his own words "I don't think it's gonna come out." Those were without doubt the most relieving words of my life. I even recorded them words and burned it into an hour long DVD for our next family movie session despite having no picture to watch. I then handed out my original MP3 file to Jay-Z who used it as a beat for his next album hit "What The Shit", which ended up selling millions of copies worldwide. True story.