I had a break in work yesterday morning and so I drove myself and my business partner to breakfast. In the car, he noticed three large blotches of birdshit on the windscreen, and laughed his head off. Totally understandable, because the blotches were so big they looked like upturned tubs of chutney (without the tubs).
Maybe because it was a slow morning and there wasn’t much else to laugh about, the business partner kept laughing about the birdshit, which was stubborn enough to resist several squirts from the windscreen wash thing (what is that thing called?). He laughed halfway through breakfast until he was stopped by a quite audible plop. He’d been shat on by what must have been a really, really big bird. The blotch on his shoulder was so big it looked like an upturned tub of cucumber raita (without the tub).
After helping him clean his shirt and our hands, we settled down to resume breakfast, but we were interrupted by the coffee shop auntie who asked, ‘Niao da bian ah? (did a bird just defecate on you, you poor dear ah?)’.
Auntie exhorted us to buy 4D, using the unit number of her shop, saying the last time someone got shat on, he struck big time and bought her a meal.
We said ok, just so she’d leave us alone with our meepok breakfast.
But this morning, she came by again and told us we owed her a meal because the unit number turned out last night to be one of the starter prizes.