I’ve been spending more time than usual at Holland Village, and at one of my favourite coffee shops. The one that sells roast pork, chicken wings and pretty decent drinks.
A few afternoons ago, I sat there nursing my second Tiger mug of iced coffee because I had been thirsty enough to order but not drink two. At 2.30 in the afternoon, Holland Village, as you know, is still pretty busy with slow moving cars and slower moving people. And it was such a blazing afternoon, people were moving even slower than usual. Even the Jack Russell terriers being taken down the street to the vet/petshop weren’t as spritely as they ought to be.
And as you know, Holland Village is always chock full of Ang Mohs of all nationalities. So much that the anti-terrorist barriers are still in operation between 7pm and 7am on some of the more popular Ang Moh streets, where Coffee Leaf and Tea Bean and the likes are located: “There will be no terrorist activity between 7pm and 7am on these streets because the terrorists are not allowed to vault over this flimsy metal gate between these hours”, says a sign that doesn’t exist. But ought to be there. So terrorists would know. Bombing is not allowed. There is a gate. It is locked.
But anyway, that afternoon, at the coffeeshop with me were two Ang Moh men, sitting at separate tables, minding their own business, which wasn’t much. The first man was seated facing the back of the second, and was mulling over his Tiger mug of Tiger, and the other, seated one table away from the first was poring over some book.
Then it happened. The second man leaned to his left so that half his backside was off the plastic chair. And let out a god almighty audible fart. It was a toot long and loud enough above the traffic noise to startle himself and the people at the coffeeshop. There was a very pregnant pause as everyone, coffee stall owner, charsiew, roast pork stall owner and chicken wing man, all turned towards the direction of the sudden noise. The Ang Moh sitting behind the Tootler was already choking on his Tiger trying to stifle his giggles. Then everyone burst out laughing.
The poor bugger-who-thought-this-big-one-would-be-a-silent-stinker sat frozen, probably not able to decide whether to acknowledge his audience, or get up and flee.