“Aburegins…. Yeah, that’s it. Aburagins.”
He looked at me. In a queer way, I might add. I didn’t like the way he stared at me. Was he peering at my exceptionally large pimple I just grew on my forehead? I didn’t think it was that bad… he was worse, with 5 even bigger ones popping out from the sides of his nose. Maybe it was something else. I looked behind to check if he was staring at something else, then back again, just to see more of his nose hair sticking out of his nostrils.
He should shave it.
“Don’t you mean…. abugins?” he asked. I thought the tone of his voice was laced heavily with sarcasm. I hate sarcasm. I suppose I do it at times, but don’t you think it’s mean for someone to be sarcastic AT you? I knew, then, that he was looking for trouble.
I kept quiet, and continued to baffle him by my mysterious reaction to his question. I slowly placed my eyes on his blue glasses. It was thick. An Esprit one at it too. Esprit was made in France, in a factory. No, not just a normal factory, but one lined with people crowding over conveyor belts, examining the frames of spectacles made by machines. Occasionaly they would throw out imperfect ones, and even more rarely, some of those less-perfect products will end up being collected by garbage collectors, who cleans them and sell them to travelling peddlers for a measly sum for quick income. These were then crudely fixed and were sold to dodgy eye-shoplets who will fit them with lenses and sell them to unsuspecting customers. In a cheaper price, but branded Esprit.
He must have bought it from one of those dodgy retail shops, judging by his clothes, his attitude, and worst of all, his pimply face.
What a loser.
“No, I mean what I meant. Aborigins. Ah-bo-ri-gins.” I replied defiantly. He gave a quick nod, and not surprisingly, slipped away to look for help. Obviously a newcomer. I continued staring at him. If I had powers like the one-eyed guy from Once A Man** I would probably have burned 5 new holes on his face… and that would be the positions where his huge pimples once resided. They was highly annoying. Then he would be like Micheal Jackson.
I gave a huge sigh, and proceeded to leave the restaurant. There I go again, ruining a waiter’s life just because he couldn’t understand what I mean. Serves them right though. Next time, they should give me someone with just one huge mole. At least I won’t have too much to think about: just that one huge mole. Moles are nice, they take you for a ride, in another dimension. Ah, but that’s another story. I bid them goodbye, but since nobody noticed, it would seem as though I slipped out quitely, like a phantom of a night. Like Sherlock Holmes.
**Once A Man could be rewritten by X-Man, but since Once A Man makes more sense than would X-Man ever be, it would be naturally less confusing this way. Do you doubt me? Take for example, the sentence She is my ex-girlfriend would mean she was once my girlfriend. Hence the sentence X-Man should mean Once A Man (notice the right usage of capitals, not left).
Conclusion: Once A Man remains more expressive than just the gibberish called X-Man.
