The answer was b. A million points to all those who guessed that correctly.
It was really a toss up between "b" and "c". Anyone who chose "a" gets negative 6 million points and a 3-stick-9-inch-stick, a product of my sick imagination. Essentially, a 3-stick-9-inch-stick is where you find a stick, and you stick at least nine inches of it into three things:
1. Stick nine inches of it into a bowl of honey
2. Stick nine inches of it into a mound of fire ants
3. Stick nine inches of it up your arse
The 3-stick-9-inch-stick.
I know, I know. The 3-stick-9-inch-stick is far too severe a punishment for an incorrect answer to my pop quiz. I agree. I will have to find something else in which the 3-stick-9-inch-stick is necessitated.
Until then, I shall explain how I came to the correct answer. The Syrian called me not long after I tried to call, and sent him a text message asking if he was busy. Apparently the calls were dropped, and not deliberately declined. Or so he said. I suppose I should believe him - we are on TSTT's network after all. He told me he was hanging out with his friends, and he would call me as soon as he got home. As soon as I spoke to him, the knot in my chest went away.
It was late, and I did not know what time he would have gotten home, and I did not want him to get in too late and think that it would be too late to call me. I needed to speak to him again. Hmm. How pathetic is that? I sent him one text saying that he could call any time he wanted - I was waiting for him, and a second saying that I missed him so much it hurt, and I wanted to be with him, physically, and... well... otherwise.
He called around one in the morning. We spoke for just over an hour.
"You know, when I tried calling you, and the phone cut off, I thought... and I paused.
"That I was with other girl?" The Syrian offered.
"Yes..."
"I was not with anyone else. If I was with other girl, I would tell you. But now you know how I feel yesterday..."
The day before, he had called me when I was at work. I was annoyed - though not necessarily with him (I should explain the use of the word "necessarily" there, but choose not to), and it showed in my voice. Less than a minute into the stilted conversation, I told him my cell phone battery was dying, and that I would call him back, but never did. He thought I was with someone else, and did not call me even when I did not call him.
After an hour of conversation though, those wrongs were forgotten.
Do not get me wrong, "c" would have been a good answer. I was slightly miffed at having Chan being taken out of commission. The guy is a great kisser. I can definitely think of things I would give up for a week just to kiss him again. In addition to that, Chan is a great story teller - listen to where I am going with this. When we used to go to class together, he would always describe sexual incidents between himself and other women. These sexual anecdotes would *always* make me want to be sexual again. Chan describes sex, Tiragem wants sex. If he described chocolate, he would make me want it. So when Chan was describing how he felt as he unwittingly fell into love... well. You get me. So "c" would not have been a bad answer at all, and you still get a thousand points if you chose it.
Hmm... I kinda sound like Drew Carey there on "Whose Line is it anyway?" where "everything is made up, and the points don't matter."
Yeah. The points are like the United Nations' opinion to conservative America.
Ah... there are so many things I should write about though - like how Raj and his friends stopped by my house, and eventually doused me with a large bottle full of cold water. Or maybe how I went out with the Mark of the Penis and he roundly beat my arse at pool, then tried to kiss me at the end of the night.
"What are you doing?"
"Just trust me. Let me do something," and in the car, he has his face an inch from mine and trying to put it closer.
[I am writing this right now, and grimacing at the same time.]
I pushed him away.
"What were you going to do?"
"The moment is gone. Now you'll never know."
[I roll my eyes still at that one.]
He had his hands on my face so I would not turn away, and his face was a breath away from mine. What The Fuck was he going to do? Pop a zit? Give me an eye exam? Inspect my tonsils? It was obvious he was going to kiss me, and I cannot understand why the fuck he is trying to bullshit me on it.
I swear. If I wanted to have a rich husband, I would have just let the guy kiss me. Unfortunately, I more go after looks than money. Still, I am female, so I am going to keep him in my life just long enough to see if he will really honour that promise to co-sign on the mortgage for my future house. He has collateral. I do not.
I should explain, but alas... there are more important things to speak of. Like how Alcoa is about to build a fucking smelter plant in the tiny island of Trinidad. And the government is completely for it.
But I have a tendency to fuck up my priorities.
Before I make my exit, here's an extract of our Mark and I's conversation...
Mark: "I want to expose you to the finer things in life. That's why I keep asking to take you out to dinner."
Tiragem: "Are you sure you want to listen to me making sarcastic comments while you eat?"
Mark: "I enjoy your company."
Tiragem: "Really."
Mark: "Have you ever had caviar?"
Tiragem: "No."
Mark: "Have you ever had wine poured all over your body?"
Tiragem: "I don't like wine."