"fuck! fuck! fuck! fuck this day!"
he says as he walks back and forth in front of the marble seats at the bus stop.
that's how he greets the morning passers-by.
he wears a loose plain white shirt paired with faded checkered pants. on his left hand is a white bag filled with papers in chaos. he bores me, that grumpy old white man. he keeps on cussing and ranting about the day, the bus, the morning, the economy, and the people. he bores me. he's so white and plain.
as i try to recover from the feeling of haze that i get from a nap at the bus, i see a familiar purple figure peeking from the pieces of chaos inside the grumpy old white man's bag. it is tinky winky, the teletubby. that goddamn teletubby face seems to wink at me a couple of times as i wink back unconsciously to clear the blurring vision of my contact lenses. what the hell is tinky winky doing in that man's bag?
over the hills and far away, teletubbies come to play
the bus arrives and my ass gets lucky to have a seat next to an african-american lady in a semi-formal brown business attire. she wears a thin coat, a pearl of huge round earrings, her hair in a tight bun at the back of her head, and her ears covered by her ipod's earphones.
i think about tinky winky and what ill-fate had got him inside that grumpy old white man's bag of papers in chaos. i wonder where the hell are the other teletubbies; dipsy, lala, and po. they could have suffered the same fate as tinky winky or they could have bene dumped into a garbage truck, or abducted by serial killers, or raped by perverts. poor creatures. my cousin used to go crazy over them before. she collects every teletubby item she can get. she even has the talking toys in various sizes displayed in their house. freaky!
as i think more about tinky winky, i slowly find myself walking in the green pastures of the teletubby land. the crazy baby smiling sun peeking and making fun at me as i walk around, the huge flowers that can eat you alive, the clouds that appear like cotton candies, all greet me the teletubby way as i walk farther and farther. i am looking for tinky winky. maybe he is in their house of somewhere in the hills playing with lala and po. i have this gut feeling that tinky winky can solve our financial problems. tinky winky can help solve my recent insomnia, tinky winky can give me a more exciting sex life, tinky winky, the purple teletubby, can make answer my questions about life and the meaning of my existence. oh yes, in case you do not know, tinky winky is the symbol of the ideal society. the inverted triangle on its head presents the ideal society where the poor, the masses, the less privileged, are on top.
oh that voice. what a lullaby. it rather hear it than the grumpy old white man's rant
"fuck! fuck! fuck! fuck this day!"
after roaming the teletubby land for hours, i feel my tired muscles gives up on me, forcing me to sit down and rest.
then the baby-faced sun sleeps and hides among the clouds. no, i did not find dipsy or any of the teletubbies. maybe they are dead. or maybe they are just horsinga round, hiding. whatever.
the sun is setting in the sky, teletubbies say goodbye
"excuse me?!" says the african-american lady as i nearly rest my head on her shoulders.
i instantly tell her my apologies with a quick smile to ease her irritation. she is nice. she really didn't get that angry after all. i look around the other passengers in the bus. tinky winky and the grumpy old white man is out of the bus.