Clique This

Cliques. We all have them, no matter how much we might deny it. After all, birds of a feather certainly flock together. Unfortunately not all birds enjoy sharing the stage hence the inherent suspicion ( and dislike ) of the uppity newcomer. The arrivistes so to speak.

Hence a clique :)

Had this thought today when Beercan Boy - of all people - came around for lunch. Seems that he has finally picked up the pieces of his broken heart at last and has started swimming around in the dating pool again. No mean feat for an ineligible guy in his early thirties.

As usual when old classmates get together, we got to reminiscing about our halcyon schooldays. Isn't it weird that it all seems so much better more than ten years later? Could have sworn I bitched and cursed each day I was stuck in the hellhole of martinets, examinations and homework called school :)

Then Beercan rehashed the time-worn story of my wicked days back in the schoolyard. A familiar story - turns out I was the playground bully who kicked sand in the faces of my hapless frenemies. Camped out on our familiar stoop behind the tuckshop during recess, we might have dared the other boys to come close to our territory. Probably peed in a circle to mark the boundaries even. Very West Side Story.


Whatcha looking at...
Why do I seem so detached from the tale? Well, since I'm pretty much senile, I can't recall much of primary school. Reason I've never been able to refute any of their claims that I was the alleged Don Mafioso of the Junior League.

Yes, The Blair Bitch Project. Definitely no designer wear and far less accessories but we might have been the tween queens of primary schoolbrats terrorizing the neighbourhood in between trading cards and playing tag.

At least that's the way he says it. No way to ask Morgan - the alleged victim - since he vanished from sight after being hastily transferred away. Of course, history has a way of being redrawn especially when no one's there to challenge the sketch. I honestly recall being a sweet, shy wallflower who wouldn't hurt a fly.

Beercan : Lies. You were a mean queen.
Paul : You must be joking. I was only 7 at the most. And I was one of the smallest boys in class.
Beercan : You made Morgan cry.
Paul : What a sissy boy.
Beercan : Well, you might have said something like that too.
Paul : Aiks!

Obviously I might have been quite the queen bee myself. Of course I've only heard it from Beercan so who knows! Perhaps the the oceans of alcohol he liberally imbibed during his heartbreak hotel stage might have damaged a few brain cells in the cerebellum.

Of course with his impediments, Beercan couldn't be trusted as a material witness so I called up another classmate who was present at the crime scene for confirmation. Though he was a bastard, he could be trusted on to be totally unapologetically honest.

My ISO : Morgan who?
Paul : That guy in primary.
My ISO : That nobody. Probably deserved it.

Ouch. Looks like I'm the only one willing to make amends. So Morgan, wherever you are, I am sorry. Though I don't recall a single moment of the said event, I hope you haven't turned out too badly. Pray you're not a violent drunk living out a cycle of abuse!

Then again... what the hell, if you are a cute single guy, call me. You can certainly bully me now. :P