See the people

One of my attributes I take great pride in is my wild imagination gland.

I imagine being Bill Gates' sister-in-law.
I imagine being Doly, the cloned sheep.
I imagine being colour-blind.
I imagine being Garfield.
I imagine being addicted to heroin.

Yet, i can't seem to pull my imaginative juices together to form a vision in my mind. A vision of a person who possess only four senses out of the five/six.

To begin with, i can't imagine what it's like to be deaf - Going to discotechques and seeing people bopping their shoulders and shuffling their feet frantically, punching the air whilst shutting their eyes lightly.

Could they be mad with the noise that was embracing them?

Others seem to be carrying (some lifting) invisible weights. While some would disagree with their music because if they thought the music was superb they would've nodded instead, right?

Perhaps the trivia of all nightclubs is the clubber's position, especially at raves whereby it seems as if everyone was being told to face towards one particular direction. If that was the case, then how come I wasn't being informed? Then again, perhaps it's common sense; something which i obviously lack. It is as if they could see something that i could not.

But that's just one optional aspect of being deaf.

I have a friend who's deaf. His name is Mr.B. Despite being deaf, he's irritatingly cute and too nice to be true. He cycles with a huge mob of national cyclists; hence, he has the necessary safety-precautions experience we amateurs lack. So we rely on him for our dear life whenever we're out on the road ripping our saggy thigh muscles apart from hoping that our sluggish buttocks will one day be taut again.

One time, us tortoises were paddling a mile behind Mr.B, who cycled 25,000 km ahead without breaking a sweat while we pant like diabetic bitches. Pfft. Shows how fit we were. Anyway, our destination was the beach. There were two routes to choose from and initially we told Mr.B that we were to adopt route A. But then we realised that we were too ambitious and the sight of the Corollas and Kijangs and Hino lorries scared the shit out of us so we realised that we were better off with route B: the route Mr.B was going, "Eeeegghhh aahhggg mmgghaa hhnngghhh," about. That, translated in normal english would be, "Let's take route B."

Like i said earlier on, Mr.B was far ahead of us so when we decided to take the shortcut, route B. I being the intellect, decided to be just that - an intellect.

"Oi Mr.B! Change in plans liaw. Use route B ahh! I don't wanna get roadkilled worr."

Yes, there i was hollering at the top of my lungs. I could've sworn the whole district heard me calling out to him. Yet, he did not respond; nor did he glance back at me when as i screamed his name in bold.

"OI YOU DEAF KA?"

Then i looked back to tell his sister, Ms.M, who was now kneeling on the pavement, red-faced and all. I panicked.

An asthma attack!

If i were at the olympics then, i would've won gold for bike sprint. I kicked my lucky-draw-prize bike and reached for her. She was out of breath all right - from laughter. I can't help but... What the fcuk?!

"What did you say to Mr.B just now?"

"Didn't you hear?"

"Ya i heard la. But did he?"

"I don't think so. Shit man."

"I wonder why."

It took me a split second to realise that i had been screaming my head off to a deaf person.

Way to go me.