My dad's koi fishes died a few days ago. I can't begin to explain what a tradegy this is. Apart from gardening, my dad has invested great love into these fishes. When we first got our puppy Whiskey, he was about 6 months old when he somehow fell into the pond. Naturally everyone screamed "Whiskey!" or "The puppy!!" but my dad shouted "My fish, my fish!!" and was later worrying about whether they were contaminated with puppy cooties and when I joked about a certain kind of soap that you could wash fishes with, he believed me for about three seconds.
Five years ago he bought them when they were 5 inches in lenght. To date they are a healthy foot and a half long (at least) and they are majestic. Fine enough to enter competitions with next year. But Kakak Siti forgot to turn the generator on or something like that and that fateful morning we woke to my mother's silent tears. My dad's still in Shanghai and has no idea that they are dead. My mother decided to tell him only when he's home. Part of me don't want to be there to witness his agony. With foresight I can imagine my pain as i would be the one he confides in. I'm not ready. I wouldn't know what to say. I don't want to cry!
...
On a more cheery note, I was telling Mel that the pinkie on my right hand hurts.
Stel: You know like how San drinks tea his pinkie sticks out stiff? (I hope just his pinkie)
Mel: Wah damn "na-pek" right (What a sensitive friend we have here)
Stel: When I type the same thing happens so after a while, quite sore la my pinkie.
So i'll be off.
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