Makati City. Passed through a 5-star hotel one day.
Went to the little boys room. As I washed my hands,
two proper gentlemen, perhaps in their mid 50s, walked in.
Parting their fancy suits, they traded intimate business
stories, joshed about in their booming bourgeoisie voices
as they relieved their bladders, in sputters, for what
seemed like an eternity.
But their zesty urinary repartee were constantly punctuated
by gas of gastronomic origins.
They zipped their flies, fastened their Armani suits,
and stormed out of the room the same way they came in.
Their voices, and then some, continued to linger in the air
even as I turned the faucet off. Mildly amused, I reached
for a stick of cigarette and was about to light it. But I
Death by methane. Cheeky bastards.
Silly ... Silly ... Silly ... too ...
Silly ... Silly ... Silly ...
Get A Lift
Born To Snooze
Heres My Kokote
Is It Safe?
Something To Sing About
Streaks Of Light
Hire Me ... Please
Hyung Tae Kim
Happy Tree Friends
My Boyfriend Is A Twat
Home Star Runner
Albino Black Sheep
Triumph, The Insult Comic Dog