The Regurgitation of Emotive Illustrations

MY DESPATCH. MY PREROGATIVE.

*the story is completely fiction. any part of the story resembling a real life situation or person or event is purely coincidental. please practise discretion when reading as story contains obscene descriptions of certain(some) unintended intentions.

"tell me you're joking please." that was my initial reaction when i heard the news. i was tearing already.

"it's not a joke," the voluptuous auntie who has went blonde the other day sighed. "i'm sorry."

she gave me a sympathetic look. i don't know why.

it made me feel like puking.

"maybe there's something wrong with the machine," i insisted desperately. "or maybe that balding guy forgot he's far-sighted!" i choked in my own saliva.

voluptuous blond auntie sighed, her view glued to my crotch.

i shifted uncomfortably.

"you forgot to zip your pants."

oh.

"sorry," i replied sheepishly. at least she wasn't fantasizing 'bout my size.

"there's really nothing i can do already," voluptuous blond auntie explained. she smiled weakly. she was tired.

"i know."

the words were silent.

"take care," voluptuous blond auntie concluded. there was a tinge of awkwardness in her voice.

i nodded once, took the paper and left.

at the corner of my eyes, i saw her wiping tears off her botox-fied cheeks.

i ran out, never stopping for a second to look back.

the paper wrote:


pasir ris npc.