Rojak

I can't believe how everything seems so normal. I'm gonna die in three years time. And nobody seems to care. I went out with Aunt Ros and my ma. To eat Indian rojak. At Ayer Rajah Food Centre. Very far. It's like somewhere near Common Wealth MRT station. They say the Indian rojak there is the best.

It was raining heavily. As I looked out of the car window, I'm almost convinced that there will never be the end of the world. People are just acting so normally. Cars are honking at cars. Cars are honking at motorcycles. Cars are honking at taxis. And the list goes on. Gosh. I'm gonna die. We all are.

A day ago, I cut my fringe. I thought it was annoying. The longer my fringe gets, the curlier it gets. Oh, who cares. We're all gonna die. At least if there's Armegeddon, my fringe won't be so annoying.

At first, we were lost. We thought that West Coast wet market was the Ayer Rajah Food Centre. We stopped there. My ma wanted to draw out some cash. I wanted to go to the toilet desperately to check on my face. My Aunt. Well, I've forgotten what she wanted to do.

We parted ways. I was lost.

My brain said: "Where's the bloody toilet.?"

Suddenly, out of nowhere, there was this thirty- something year old man.

He asked me: "Kakak, you wanna go toilet issit.?"

Kakak = Big Sis, in Malay language.

I didn't mind him calling me Auntie or Big Sis. I'm used to it. Afterall, we're all gonna die. I wondered how he knew what I was thinking. It was like he could read my mind. He could be the Armegeddon angel or something. He had this tattoo on his right wrist which reminded me of a bangle from Diva and was holding a helmet.

I looked up at him. I almost wanted to hug him and ask him if he'd save me from Armegeddon but I refrained myself from doing so. What if he wasn't an angel.? Too many people have been calling me crazy nowadays.

He smiled and said: "You go this way. And you turn to your left and then to your right."

I gave him a Macdonald's smile.

My brain said: "My angel. Thank you."

Finally, we found the real Ayer Rajah Food Centre. We ate a lot. The Indian rojak was really nice. I love the sauce. And we're all gonna die in three years time.

Aunt Ros taught me how to do brownie properly back at her place. Turned out really well.

I asked her: "Why are there cracks in my brownie?"

She said: "Brownies are supposed to be ugly."

My brownie tasted real good. I'll post up the recipe one fine day for you guys to copy, aite. Before Armegeddon comes.

I guess this is how a cancer patient feels knowing that he or she is gonna die.