Yang Dihormati, Puan (insert random female malay name here), Yang Berbahagia (directly translated to "Your Happiness") Puan (insert another random female malay name here), Ibubapa, dan para para pelajar sekalian.

I was slouching at my seat and thinking "Damn nothing could be worse than listening to a woman in her fifties trying to figure out why there is so much feedback from the speakers and then tapping the mic unendlessly when that is the very thing causing it in the first place." Then came the part of the "assembly" when we all had to listen to some nonsensical murmuring which ended with everyone sneezing into their hands (apparently) and then wiping their goo all over their faces.

Then came the dreaded song.

Then a middle-aged man comes onto the stage and gladly announces that now is the time for the "persembahan pelajar". Someone kill me now!! About 10 students were on the stage, dancing to a song which I think P Ramlee's great great grandfather wrote. And recorded. I was squirming in my seat and yelling silently "GIMME THE DAMNED SPEECH AGAIN!". First it was a Malay song, then it was a super super super Cina song accompanied by girls prancing around in kung fu clothes and pink paper fans. I began to excrete cold sweat when I entertained the thought of an Indian dance with the fake trees. If it wasn't for Ann's brother, I wouldn't be at the stupid "Anugerah Pelajar Cermelang" in SMKDU. Oh by the way, congrats, Jeremy.

Schools have this aura of rebellion. The moment I entered the school, I felt the need to rebel. Actually it started when I tried to park in the school and a bloody prefect on probation refused to let me in. I had this urge to just ram him down but I didn't because that would involve washing my bumper to rid of his remains and quite possibly, even getting it replaced altogether. I remember the prefects in my school. Damn, they were a pain. Well most of them at least. The very purpose of existence was to prove to you that they could make your student life just a little bit shittier. They would confiscate your liquid papers during recess. Like as if I couldn't write on tables and walls with pencils. They tried to confiscate my socks but I made such a big deal that the discipline teacher called my father to school. I hate you, Puan Vimala. May the rest of your life continue to be a sad sad one. Yes, it was me who climbed over the wall with Caleb that day.
Yes, it was me who told my co-op juniors not to sell lencana sesi pagi's to your herd of sad prefects. Yes, it was me who tipped off your lousy spot check plan. What are you going to do about it? Send a letter to my house?

HAH!

The old lady who lived in the school? Vimala, it's you.