I've been accused of many things over time. This recollection is only to aid my ailing memory [alcohol induced] and so that someone other than me can recall it all when the time comes to pen my top-selling biography [10% off alcohol card included].
All these incidents, some repressed, for fear of flying into a non-provoked rage [also fuelled by alcohol at times] are similar in that I have no idea I was guilty. In fact, I still maintain innocence in the face of baseless rules, regulations and regulatory bodies.
Primary 6
2 weeks before my PSLE prelims, I managed to nearly get myself expelled. It was the first time I had displayed some kinda extreme calm and composure when faced with impending doom. Also a prelude to my cardsharping days where if you know Aces beat Queens then you have no problems raising the stakes till all the others go bust cos no one wants to call you on it.
We was all carrying chairs up to our classrooms up in the 4th floor from the school hall cum tuckshop. Why they didn't want to use the Pri 1 chairs from the ground floor was a very debatable point at that time and evoked much ire. Still, while we was doing it, a boy who I've had zero altercations with for the past 2 years suddenly decided to go on a huge jokemeister routine interspersing most of his jokes with "black slaves", "black" and "horse". I think he got his inspiration from the fact that we were carrying the chairs up the stairs by resting the spine of the chair on our chests and with its 4 legs pointed in front of us. That these corny jokes were directed towards me, cos the only other Yindian was a mortal enemy [her and her butcher of a barber grandfather] of everyone including myself was a notable point.
I did what anyone should do when they get irritated. No, peaceful resolution is so not my style, even at 12 years old. I didn't say stop, I didn't say "Maybe you shouldn't say that", I pushed my way to the front of the pack, waited at the head of the stairs for abovementioned boy and then gave the base of his chair a thumping sole stamping leg thrust. When visually impaired, these kinda violent actions actually do aid in providing twice the amount of damage as opposed to you being prepared for the onslaught.
It was a Kodak Photo Moment, me smirking, he tumbling, forehead and chin gashing, 8 stitches a stitching, weak scared-of-blood girls crying.
I managed to survive this incident mainly because I thought to myself that I was too valuable a student for the school to lose me, aggressive ways or not. Thankfully, a few HODs thought the same too. Funnily though, I don't recall anyone being hauled to the princie's office when I got busted up by 8 Malay blokes back in Primary 2, hit by those rusting "Beyond Economic Repair" chairs stacked at the back of the tuckshop building. All this just cos one of them happened to spot me at the CC going through the motions of a Taekwondo lesson and wanted to see how much "martial art" I really could do.
The wrongful allegation? That was when I got my ass hauled in to see the Big Man. I've always been amused with the Big Man because his surname was "Sow". It perturbed me even at that age that anyone should be destined to go through life being referred to as Mr. Sow or Mr. Cow or Mr. Hog's Breath for all that it matters. My form teacher in explaining what had happened to Sow, demonstrated his knowledge of Chinese Kungfu to the extent of copying the Karate Kid's signature crane move. He literally leapt from one end of the room to the other, demo-ing the "flying kick" I had administered. I was quite sad that this man had chosen to relive his drama club days with this exaggeration, on my expense.
Aftermath
Me and stitched up Chinese boy become good pals, I laid hands on my first Sega Saturn at his place. I still see him around these days. Alas, he is a much fitter and leaner guy now, nothing like his big arsed fatso days.
The form teacher, got a beautifully inscribed "S" on the hood of his silver Nissan Sunny. He knew, I knew, the class of 6A knew, but who could prove it? Prior to the "S", I attempted stuffing a tennis ball into the exhaust pipe, but science and the laws of physics proved that it's highly impossible to make a car blow up in that way.
The Sow was quite alarmed that The New Paper wanted to run a feature on me and another bloke from AMK Primary cos of our gleaming PSLE grades. His only comment to the paper was "Shanker is quite vocal in school". Doesn't take a genius to figure out the real meaning.
This was my earliest recollection of a baseless [baseless exaggeration in this case] allegation. I for one am quite quick with apologies as long I remain convinced that I've been 100% responsible for said incident. There were others following this episode, I think I shall take my time to go through them in later posts. I am in an "analyze your psyche" mode these days.
Adieu!
All these incidents, some repressed, for fear of flying into a non-provoked rage [also fuelled by alcohol at times] are similar in that I have no idea I was guilty. In fact, I still maintain innocence in the face of baseless rules, regulations and regulatory bodies.
Primary 6
2 weeks before my PSLE prelims, I managed to nearly get myself expelled. It was the first time I had displayed some kinda extreme calm and composure when faced with impending doom. Also a prelude to my cardsharping days where if you know Aces beat Queens then you have no problems raising the stakes till all the others go bust cos no one wants to call you on it.
We was all carrying chairs up to our classrooms up in the 4th floor from the school hall cum tuckshop. Why they didn't want to use the Pri 1 chairs from the ground floor was a very debatable point at that time and evoked much ire. Still, while we was doing it, a boy who I've had zero altercations with for the past 2 years suddenly decided to go on a huge jokemeister routine interspersing most of his jokes with "black slaves", "black" and "horse". I think he got his inspiration from the fact that we were carrying the chairs up the stairs by resting the spine of the chair on our chests and with its 4 legs pointed in front of us. That these corny jokes were directed towards me, cos the only other Yindian was a mortal enemy [her and her butcher of a barber grandfather] of everyone including myself was a notable point.
I did what anyone should do when they get irritated. No, peaceful resolution is so not my style, even at 12 years old. I didn't say stop, I didn't say "Maybe you shouldn't say that", I pushed my way to the front of the pack, waited at the head of the stairs for abovementioned boy and then gave the base of his chair a thumping sole stamping leg thrust. When visually impaired, these kinda violent actions actually do aid in providing twice the amount of damage as opposed to you being prepared for the onslaught.
It was a Kodak Photo Moment, me smirking, he tumbling, forehead and chin gashing, 8 stitches a stitching, weak scared-of-blood girls crying.
I managed to survive this incident mainly because I thought to myself that I was too valuable a student for the school to lose me, aggressive ways or not. Thankfully, a few HODs thought the same too. Funnily though, I don't recall anyone being hauled to the princie's office when I got busted up by 8 Malay blokes back in Primary 2, hit by those rusting "Beyond Economic Repair" chairs stacked at the back of the tuckshop building. All this just cos one of them happened to spot me at the CC going through the motions of a Taekwondo lesson and wanted to see how much "martial art" I really could do.
The wrongful allegation? That was when I got my ass hauled in to see the Big Man. I've always been amused with the Big Man because his surname was "Sow". It perturbed me even at that age that anyone should be destined to go through life being referred to as Mr. Sow or Mr. Cow or Mr. Hog's Breath for all that it matters. My form teacher in explaining what had happened to Sow, demonstrated his knowledge of Chinese Kungfu to the extent of copying the Karate Kid's signature crane move. He literally leapt from one end of the room to the other, demo-ing the "flying kick" I had administered. I was quite sad that this man had chosen to relive his drama club days with this exaggeration, on my expense.
Aftermath
Me and stitched up Chinese boy become good pals, I laid hands on my first Sega Saturn at his place. I still see him around these days. Alas, he is a much fitter and leaner guy now, nothing like his big arsed fatso days.
The form teacher, got a beautifully inscribed "S" on the hood of his silver Nissan Sunny. He knew, I knew, the class of 6A knew, but who could prove it? Prior to the "S", I attempted stuffing a tennis ball into the exhaust pipe, but science and the laws of physics proved that it's highly impossible to make a car blow up in that way.
The Sow was quite alarmed that The New Paper wanted to run a feature on me and another bloke from AMK Primary cos of our gleaming PSLE grades. His only comment to the paper was "Shanker is quite vocal in school". Doesn't take a genius to figure out the real meaning.
This was my earliest recollection of a baseless [baseless exaggeration in this case] allegation. I for one am quite quick with apologies as long I remain convinced that I've been 100% responsible for said incident. There were others following this episode, I think I shall take my time to go through them in later posts. I am in an "analyze your psyche" mode these days.
Adieu!
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