Crazy Horse: It's like talking to a brick wall

Tag : pe slippers

IT was that time of the year again.
I had to pay my cukai tanah. The fact that I had to fork out moolahwas not the issue. Dealing with a government department was.

Three days before the actual date, I started hyperventilating, Ifelt my chest tightening, and the stabs of pain became increasinglyfrequent.

Funny; the only time I felt that way was when I went to see a guynamed Tok Mudin (didn't recall being related to him or anything)who did unspeakable things to my Adik Manja.

On the appointed day, I slipped on my government-friendly togs - apair of baggy brown pants hitched up all the way to my chest, aworn blue shirt and a pair of Jukebox slippers at RM5.50 a pop.
Grabbing a copy of Buklet Tatasusila dan Panduan Berurusan DenganBadan Kerajaan Jilid ke 9 on the dining table, I was set.

I made sure that the bill (which was tattered and mangled beyondhope, thanks to the torrential rain) was safely tucked away in mybreast pocket. My wife and I then went off into the unknown.

The glass doors to the Selangor Land Office opened with a dramatic"swoosh".

They were crisp; efficient to a fault. Things are off to a goodstart, I thought. As usual, I spoke a tad too soon. Turned out thedoors were the only things that worked.

A foreboding sense of doom suddenly enveloped us. It became eerilyquiet. I clutched on to my tasbih and began praying. The silencewas so deafening you could hear a mosquito break wind from 15metres away.

We both made our way to the information counter; a perfectly normalreaction when walking through the gates of hell. The look on thesecurity guard's face (he made it painfully obvious that he had gotup on the wrong side of town) forced a quick change in plans.

We found the OTHER Kaunter Pertanyaan and made a dash for it.Sitting behind the bullet-proof glass window capable of stopping a5.56mm Nato-standard ball-projectile round with a muzzle velocityof 720 metres per second was this innocuous-looking young man whoobviously took pride in his appearance.

Clad in a typical government-issue white shirt with a pair of khakipants, he smiled as he saw my wife approaching.

"Ye kak ..."

We explained to him our predicament. While we would be more thanhappy to pay, we couldn't because the lot number to our propertyhad been completely obliterated by the wrath of God.

Could they possibly, somehow, locate the missing piece of thepuzzle through the use of their high-tech computer system (you canchange the colour of your font on the screen, man ...) and GoogleEarth?

"Hmmm ... ni susah ni ..."

I glanced at my watch. It read 11.23am. I had this funny feeling inthe pit of my stomach that things would get progressively worse aslunchtime approached.

And true enough, after what seemed like an endless stream ofanswers that defied logic (can't use Google Earth because of theshift in tectonic plates, it seems), I gave up.

This child had managed to beat me. I was reduced to nothingness. Ifelt as if my life had no meaning. This child was good.

"Adik ni baru keje sini ke?" my wife asked in a vain attempt tounderstand what made him tick.

"Dah dua tahun dah kak," he proudly replied.

"Ada orang lain yang boleh tolong ke?" my wife went on, refusing toconcede defeat.

"Rasanya tak, kot," he said.

In a rare display of public affection, my wife reached out andgently held my hand. I felt so loved. Together, we took two stepsback, looked up and spelled out K-A-U-N-T-E-R P-E-R-T-A-N-Y-A-A-N;just to make sure we got it right. We did.

We looked at him, he looked right back at us. I took a deep breathand sighed. My wife spoke for the both of us: "Tak pe lah; thankyou."

"Sama sama kak. Datang lagi."

Thanks bud, but I'd take being hung upside down and having my skinflayed any time ...



* Crazy Horse can be contacted at CrazeeHorse701@gmail.com