Pulling teeth

For a seemingly gregarious guy with heaps of acquiantances scattered all over the peninsula - and possibly several neighbouring tropical islands, Handsome Hui can be a remarkably reticent fella. Despite giving off a generally wholesome regular guy image, the boy keeps his darkest secrets close to his chest - and like the bitter cynic that I am, still waters only serve to make me helluva suspicious. Like dammit, what the hell is he hiding and why don't I know it!

What can I say? It's actually like a trade. Ever since he caught me months back on one of my clandestine outings with Big Bicep Barry, I've been dying to get some illicit information in return. Isn't that the fair thing to do?


I bet he's hiding something! Maybe he buried his wife in the bottom of the swimming pool!
I know. God, I can be such a freaking snoop ( courtesy of all those Nancy Drew / Hardy Boys novels I devoured as a kid ) but I can't help myself! Like the amateur sleuths of Wisteria Lane, I find myself irresistibly drawn to unsolvable suburban mysteries. However, extracting information from him is akin to pulling out teeth. Terribly painful, chockful of profanity and nigh impossible without resorting to violent, primitive methods.

Since his last bemoan about a lack of social activities in his calendar, all of us have been trying to get him literally involved - well, I've practically twisted his arm backwards to force him out of his comfort zone. On the rare occasion, we've even traded lewd, possibly profane messages dealing with cow tongues and saints. Don't even ask.

Terrorizing the poor kid with relentless questions and barely veiled threats like I did previously obviously forced him to stubbornly clam up even more. Obviously a change of interrogation methods was in order. What I should have done instead was corner him in a darkened room, ply him with endless java, stuff him with fried chicken and lull him into seemingly insane boredom.

Which I did. Last night. And it worked.

He opened up somewhat. I learned that he wasn't a rampaging sex maniac with forays abroad for satisfaction ( which is a disappointment since I was expecting disgusting scandalous details that I could display to the voracious public ), he realized that I wasn't at all interested in his tight, gym-fit bod ( well, perhaps aesthetically... and uhh, there was that sweat soaked dream once but what the hell, I am a red-blooded homosexual after all! ), and we did all that without resorting to dental pliers.