Surreal Scenes 2

Dear Diary,

Can you imagine stabbing a toothbrush through someone’s face or having it happen to you? It was another crazy weekend. On Saturday I went to a party hosted by JD and his Wonderful Girlfriend to celebrate their new start. This couple met at the Guangzhou southern branch of the design school, the Wonderful Girlfriend having been sent there to fill in for a missing teacher. She was relocated to 🀫🀫🀫🀫🀫🀫🀫🀫 and the couple lived apart. Long-distance relationships are difficult, often plagued by paranoia and jealousy. While they were apart tensions developed and I heard both complain: ‘Where were you, why, with whom!?!’ In an attempt to rekindle their relationship JD quit his job in Guangdong and moved to 🀫🀫🀫🀫🀫🀫🀫🀫. Unfortunately he didn’t have a job waiting so his Wonderful Girlfriend supported them both while he searched for work, which stressed their relationship in new ways. JD did secure employment and that’s what we were celebrating this particular evening. Sharing is caring, JD got his first paycheck so the couple bought a BBQ and invited their nearest-dearest friends for dinner.

It was a hot and humid summery evening and I was cooling off with the air conditioner. Our hosts wanted to get the party pumping and insisted ‘everyone, outside to the rooftop patio,’ which was unique for 🀫🀫🀫🀫🀫🀫🀫🀫. Up we went, they started the barbecue and that’s when things got crazy because the barbecue was petrol-soaked coal that’s not so easy to get ablaze. Making matters unique, the patio was situated on a slanted roof, which caught the breeze and swirled the petro-smoke in the patio space. Once lit the coal takes 30 minutes to burn all the petrol off. That’s a lot of petrol fumes and in combination with drinking, oh-my-lanta it was dizzying. I inquired if anyone else was light-headed? A few agreed and confirmed my suspicions, we’d been gassed. I stayed a minute or two longer, then I went downstairs but the damage was done…

Sipping wine back in front of the air conditioner, comfortably numb, I began entertaining the lucky partygoers with my one-of-a-kind sense of humor. A few jokes in and the Wonderful Girlfriend came to see what was so funny. After a few more jokes I took a break and the Wonderful Girlfriend asked ;where’s your girlfriend?’ I jokingly retorted “where’s your boyfriend?” And that’s when things got nutty. Good Buddy Roy leaned over and asked, ‘did you see that?’ I said, “see what?” ‘She asked you where – is – your – girl – friend? And you said: where – is – your – boy-friend? Then she burst into tears and ran away.’ Oh no I thought and followed her upstairs where I was confronted by the party host JD who began screaming at me: ‘what did you say to my Wonderful Girlfriend?!!!’ The combination of petrol, alcohol, pent-up jealous frustration was volatile and my stupid comment went to the core of their problems – jealousy. Wonderful Girlfriend was crying profusely. 

‘This is my house, what did you say to my Wonderful Girlfriend?!!” JD screamed. I looked him in the eyes and could see that he was mushrooming into a mushroom cloud laying mother fukker about to blow, so I did the honorable thing a drunken-petrol-high individual could do, I ran and scurried my little ass downstairs, racing away like a weasel. ‘Come back here!’ He cried chasing after me. Holly-molly I thought, he’s lost it. I cut around the corner and dove behind the curtains managing to hide for the time being.

I could hear the Wonderful Girlfriend crying. I could also hear someone else starting to yell. It was  the Wonderful Girlfriend’s colleague and close friend who we’ll call The Hero. The Hero was pissed off and being the good friend he was, wanted to help the Wonderful Girlfriend. To provide context, The Hero was a dress-to-kill gentleman, clearly very good friends with the Wonderful Girlfriend. I suspect she shared her feelings with The Hero regarding her jealousy and pent-up frustration of having to shoulder the financial burden of supporting them both. The Hero was emotionally invested and with the Wonderful Girlfriend in tears he was infuriated. It should for the record be noted that The Hero was drunken-petrol-high too. After a few minutes things calmed down and peeking out from behind the curtain I could see The Hero approach JD, who had collapsed on the couch. ‘You’ve caused enough harm, it’s time for you to leave. Here’s your toothbrush – get the fuck out.’ The Hero threw a handful of toiletries including a toothbrush at JD. This was a mistake because the volatile combination of petrol, alcohol, and pent-up frustration caused JD to explode and like a mushroom cloud he proceeded to jab The Hero repeatedly in the face – with the toothbrush until he punctured The Hero’s cheek. By the end of the assault The Hero was holding his face, bleeding profusely and in need of stitches. Off to the hospital we went.

When we finally found a hospital, it was late. We were still disoriented from alcohol and petrol fumes and ended up in the expensive section of the hospital that catered to the wealthy. The doctor on staff required $800USD to stitch The Hero up. ‘Ah don’t worry,’ The Hero asserted, ‘I’ll put some gauze over it and go to sleep,’ which was unlikely, it was a gaping hole! No one had enough money to cover the bill so we went across the street to the local hospital. There a nurse sat beneath one light bulb in the dead of night. She refused to assist, nodding her head, ‘we’re closed.’ The Hero broke into a frustrated fit and got in her face exposing the gaping hole he screamed ‘I need medical assistance now!’ The nurse gagged, reached for the phone and made a call. A few minutes later a doctor came running along. It was the doctor from the wealthy hospital. When he saw us, he shook his head in disgust because he was unable to charge the exorbitant $800 USD fee. Eventually, The Hero received 16 stitches.