I’ve known this for a while.
No, not the many physical ailments I have which are plenty.
But I’m sick in the head. I am anal retentive and prone to fixations.
Especially in recent times.
So last nite I woke up in the middle of the night and staggered to do the usual 3 am Kota Tinggi waterfall imitation.
Grimacing, whistling and contemplating life, God sent me an epiphany
“You shall have Gu Yu Kaya with half boiled eggs tomorrow ….”
I tried to dismiss that image from my mind and risk dissing God.
But those half boiled eggs – they were pulsating…😲😲😳😳😳
So the next morning, I drove to Geylang to Keng Wah Sung Coffeeshop, my recently discovered haven for good eggs coffee and toast.
Shutters greeted me.
What sort of Geylang Coffeeshop closes on Sunday ??!!
What – does the good morning singlet wearing Ah Pek Coffeeshop Boss owner have a problem with Sundays?
Is he a god fearing Christian believing in the day of sabbath and is he swaying and crooning in the City Harvest congregation being slain happily and denying me my Gu Yu Kaya toast and my pulsating eggs??!!
Come on !!!
I sat in my car weeping outside Keng Wah Sung.
Concerned taxi drivers alarmed at a grown man weeping outside a closed Coffeeshop stopped and asked if I was ok.
A normal person would just drive home and lick one’s wounds.
But those pulsating eggs were taunting me and my manhood.
So I googled “Geylang Bread Toast” and found this article:
The first entry caught my eye – Ah Kong Den at Joo Chiat.
Apparently a hipster cafe but offering good old quality Kopitiam toast and eggs.
Situated in a hotel known as Aqueen Heritage Hotel@Joo Chiat.
Hmm – dodgy name.
In 10 minutes I was there and parked in the multi storey car park behind the hotel and waddled there purposefully.
Consternation flooded my senses when I approached.
This was the sight that was waiting for me.
“God why are you playing me like dis ?”
I wept uncontrollably banging on the glass doors of the hotel and wailing like a seven month funeral cryer.
Concerned machiks stopped to comfort me and offered to bring me home and feed me home made ketupat.
I declined and wandered off despondently and aimlessly.
I couldn’t see from the tears flooding my face. Mothers carried their child when they saw this chunky ape like wailing Chinese man tottering around.
I went on autopilot towards this Coffeeshop I know nearby that houses a great Nasi Padang.
Why Nasi Padang ? No idea, I was wailing and sobbing remember?
I passed a shop selling toilet cisterns and stopped to see toilet cisterns being displayed outside the shop!
When is the last time you encountered such an image? Cisterns displayed outside a shop in Joo Chiat!
It’s like God telling me I’m rubbish and full of shit.
Through savage imagery.
I contemplated buying the discounted Cistern just to punish myself.
I arrived at the Coffeeshop. And saw my favourite Nasi Padang stall which wanted to envelop me with all sorts of loving gravy and rumpah.
Why not just eat then at a world class Nasi Padang?
Despair and hunger are strange bedfellows.
It’s like I needed to flagellate myself with sharp hooks while muttering Hail Marys.
So I queued at the shitty looking toast and Kaya stall.
Manned by PRC workers who, with the greatest warmth and respect, did not know a Kaya toast from a Sze Chuan Mala hot pot.
I ordered Kopi O Sui Tai, 3 half boiled eggs and Gu Yu Kaya Toast.
“No Gu Yu, just margarine!” The Chinese cashier lady bellowed.
I nodded wearily. Life doesn’t get much worse than this.
The shit offering arrived.
I woke up with world class Keng Wah Sung Gu Yu Kaya toast, wobbly eggs and aromatic coffee image in my mind.
God decided otherwise.
I shall change my name to Cistern Boy henceforth.
I took a bite.
It tasted like ass.