Buses nowadays are not merely modes of transport. They are a haven for molesters and perverts. They are breeding grounds for cockroaches and viruses (one person sneezes/coughs every 2.5 seconds). Buses have also become free Classified Ads for various teenagers who scrawl their names and numbers in conspicuous black ink across the backs of bus seats. The majority of them advertise their sexual services, along with details such as “Indian girl, 15, with big breast” or “Amelia is a f**king slut”. Sometimes, on a very long bus ride, i have the urge to just ring up Amelia or whoever there is and see what happens.

However, an incident that occurred two weeks ago has made me wonder if my own number has been placed on advertisement as well.

After watching an exceptionally sappy soap opera (in which the heroine died of cancer, leaving her weeping hero devastated at her grave), the weather entered a bout of depression, as it exploded in tears, drenching the land with rain, rain and more cold, salty rain.

I was stuck at home, feeling equally depressed. It was the last day of the March holidays. With a hole in my pocket and fats throwing a party in my rear, the future was as bleak as the weather. However, after some Malcolm In The Middle and Ruffles potato chips, life didn’t seem that bad.

Then the sofa started vibrating.

A split second later, i realised that it was my phone. I answered the call.

“hello?”

“HEY! MY GIRL!”

The man on the other sounded like a drugged-up version of my classmate. Or a very drunk schoolteacher of mine.

“Mr Victor Tan? Shixuan?… hello?”

“HOW”S MY BABY DOIN’?”

“sorry wrong number.”

“HEY HON. HANG ON A MINUTE!”

“no.” Click.

I was ogling at Frankie Muniz, eating my chips a few minutes later. Then the sofa re-vibrated. Without a caller ID, i was helpless. I answered.

“hello?”

“WHY DID YA HANG UP ON ME?”

This dude had a strong American accent, and apparently was exhilarated to speak to me. And he sounded seriously drunk.

“I’m sorry, but were you looking for Jenny?”

“HEY JENNY? DO YOU FEEL ME?”

“what?!”

“I REALLY LIKE YOU. LIKE, EXTREMELY. WHERE ARE YOU NOW?”

“who are you?”

“I’m Joe. From the Singapore American school. We met, remember? Oh i missed the old days. You were so hot.”

I knew no Joe from Singapore American School.

“goodbye.” Click.

An hour later, when the potato chips were busy getting digested and when Frankie Muniz had been replaced by Tyra Banks, i was getting a little bored. Suddenly i wanted Joe to call again. This time round, i would make sure things would be different.

As Tyra was busy comforting a cocaine head with nice red fingernails, the sofa vibrated again. It’s showtime, i thought.

“Hi Joe.”

“hey jenny.. are you like in Singapore now?”

“i have no idea.”

“can we meet up? I know a cool place where we can get down. Down and dirty.”

“but it sucked the last time, joe.”

“huh?”

“do you like chicken rice?”

“what?”

“i said, DO YOU LIKE CHICKEN RICE?”

“well, i’ve never really tried it…”

“well, that’s a pity cos I LIKE IT. actually, i like the rice best. It goes great with soy sauce and chilli.”

“hey, can we meet soon? Sunday evening?”

“Chinatown, right behind the CK department store. And it only costs $2!”

“what costs $2?”

“chicken rice. The best one in singapore’s in Chinatown.”

“ok, let’s meet for chicken rice then.” Suddenly, he didn’t sound as exhilarated as before.

“joe, lend me $100.”

“woah..”

“you’ve got to. Ever since i got pregnant, i’ve been getting weird rashes all over my skin. Like big red ones. My pimples are breaking all over my face, and there’s pus leaking all the time. You got pimples, Joe?”

“one, yes.”

“i’ve got like, ten. And i need the money so bad. I need a doctor. There’s blood on my pillow cause the pimples keep breaking and bleeding. Totally disgusting.”

“jenny, you’re, er, pregnant?”

“you bet. But pregnancy is so weird. I’m constipated. It’s been four days. The fart’s really bad. Whenever press my belly, i’m just so sure it’s gonna burst with all the shit inside. Constipation sucks. There’s something poking your bum all the time. And then you lose appetite.”

“i’m sure everything’ll be ok in the end. Anyway, …”

“i hate constipation. What should i do?”

After a very thoughtful pause, Joe said, “Maybe you should eat more fruits and vegetables.”

I continued. “I love God. He’s done so many things for me in my life. He is my rock and my fortress.”

“can we not talk about… God?”

“I was having a meaningless life. Until one day when i felt God’s love. I was just like any other person, too busy to care about God. But God always cared for me. I realised that I was too unwilling to go, to let Him into my life, to let Him give me purpose. It’s great to let God guide your life, you know?”

“it’s been really nice talking to you Jenny, but erm, i gotta go now…”

“never forget that God really loves each one of us, even you Joe.”

“i will.”

“God bless you.” Click.

for the record, Joe hasn’t called me since.