Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Just another reason why I miss him

Yesterday I almost started crying in the teachers' bathroom of the high school where I work. I would never tell anybody else this story if I could talk to him as freely as I did when he lived in the same country as I. However, now my morning is his night and regardless of such minor problems, it's just not the same.

Actually, he would hate this story, just as I am sure that you will. He would just repeat words he's told me hundreds of times before. Toby, there are some things that you need to learn to keep to yourself.

That is your warning to stop reading. If we were to talk tonight the way we did before he left, he would have saved you. I don't really want to share this with my family, friends, and any other random stranger who happens to blogger search "best friend".


I was kneeling over the toilet. Seconds before, as I was about to flush and as my eyes glanced over the poo I made, I could had sworn that I saw a white worm slither and disappear into my poo. I gasped. I began to panic. Thoughts began to push and shove their way around the crowded, frenzied train station that is my brain. How could this happen? Is that my punishment for eating those undercooked octopus balls at the firework festival last weekend? Or maybe it was the microwaved chicken on a stick that I could have sworn was pre-cooked? Why oh why aren't I a vegetarian? This would never happen to a vegetarian. No, no, no, this would never happen to a VEGAN. And what the hell am I supposed to do now? I don't recall "tapeworm" being in the medical word section of the little JET memo book we received. How am I going to explain this to a doctor? Why, oh, why, oh, why did I eat that goddamn takoyaki?

I was so disgusted, feeling scared, helpless and tears were just about to arrive on the next approaching train...but then there was an announcement over the loud speaker. Luckily, they were all words I know, so I was able to understand.

No need to worry, silly girl. Don't you remember? Chu made us spaghetti last night for dinner. It's just an undigested spaghetti.

Of course, worrywort that I am, I couldn't just take the announcer's word for it, which was why I was kneeling down beside the toilet. I stared for several minutes, making sure I didn't see any other spaghettis move anywhere. Finally, my mind became at ease, and all the station attendents waved away the last train of the night. They could finally finish up their day.

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