Some years back, my former colleagues organised an outing. Activities included bowling, dinner and disco dancing. I requested for karaoke. They obliged, karaoke was an additional item.
We started off with bowlings. Most of us were beginners. Ladies' colleagues throwing balls with both hands, rolling slowly forward... hit some pins and started falling in slow motions. Wrong tactics of throwing balls...from a height, hit the floor with a bang and into the drain. Games of the day were funs and not rules. Our average score? 250 to 300 ! I mean, needed another 250 pins to reach 300, the perfect score.
For dinner, we have steam-boats. Lots of uncook dishes were available. Prawns, beefs, slices of fish, fishballs, squids, clayfishes, cockles...etc. We would place the prawns and whatever we liked onto a scoop individually and put it into a pot of boiling water which was placed in the centre of the table. For cockles, I would like to eat it raw instead of cooked.
Next item? Karaoke, of course ! Crooned my ways through the night with whatever vibration cords provided by mother nature. Colleagues applauded and my singings praised. But, actually they were just encouraging me as my singings got out of tunes. Remember games of the day? 'Have funs and not rules.'
The moment we entered the disco, everybody were at the dance floor except me. As a guy who did not like to sway my hips, I found it more enjoyable watching. With beers on hands and legs tapping to the tempo, I enjoyed every bits of it.
Reached home at the wee hours. Took off everything, jumped into bed. Woke up next day with hangovers and with barrage of questions from wife.
Wife : “Where were you actually, last night?”
Me : “bowling, dinner, karaoke and disco.”
Wife : “how come there were bloods on your shirt?”
Me : “I did not injured myself, what blood?'
Wife : “ I don't kno...w.” (angry)
Me : “ oh yes, for dinner, I ate raw cockles, I must have got the blood stain from it”
Wife : “ I don't kno...w, only you yourself knew what you have committed last night.”
Now... , it dawned upon me that she suspected me of having a jolly good times with ladies last night, a virgin, maybe. I was dumbfounded. Could not decide whether to laugh or to get angry. I told her, “take a good look at your husband. Hoping for a virgin to visit me in my dreams is already hard, enjoying with one physically is harder that the 'hardest' words you can find in a dictionary.” With that, I headed back to bed. Hugging tightly onto my bolster, I went into dreamland, in search of ......