What the FUCK.

I am an immense fan of "genuine violently expressed shock” for comical purposes. Make no mistake, I am NOT talking about saying/doing things for shock value. What I AM talking about is more along the lines of… somebody saying/doing something asinine and somebody else saying “what the FUCK?” A prime example of this is one time when I was in Frankfurt with *Raynoid*. We were visiting a dear friend of mine and the whole lot of us were having dinner. At the conclusion of the meal, *Raynoid* says “don’t worry guys, I got this.” I was genuinely shocked, knowing the type of cheap bastard that *Raynoid* is. My best guess was that he was trying to bang, or maybe he was just super appreciative that my friend was hosting us and showing us around the city. Whatever the case was, I was taken aback at his kindness and generosity. So I say, in a pleasantly surprised manner; 

“What the fuck *Raynoid*…”

“Yeah, we’re splitting this right Kwok?”

“What the FUCK *RAYNOID*?”

I still recall that memory fondly… not financially but purely for comedic value. The instant shock I felt was of a very high purity… and I expressed my displeasure violently. Though I was upset that he volunteered me, I cannot help but giggle about the quickness of the 180 degree shift in emotions. Yes, that’s what gets me off.

So why am I saying all of this? Well, you ever meet certain people in your life that… have a very… “special” story? I have met/known quite a few “interesting” people thus far in my life… or at least people with an interesting story or two. For example, I knew a guy who had a divorce because his wife turned out to be a lesbian. I knew a girl (let’s call her girl A) whose boyfriend literally had sex with another girl… WHILE girl A was on the same bed… and the boyfriend’s excuse was “I thought she was you!” And I also met a girl once who told me she had six months to live. But these are all stories for another day. In fact, there is no story. That’s it. Just ponder those for a second.

But this is not about them. It is about an unorthodox night I had back in the beginning of summer 2013…

At this point in my life, I was vainly pining away after someone we shall call… *BeeWhistle*. Now, *BeeWhistle* and I had a long history, but alas it ended and we kept communication between the two of us to a minimum (for a while, let’s say a couple of years). After catching up with her one fateful night in April 2013, I had an epiphany. She was the one, my one and only, my moon and stars, how could I have ever let her go? (Well, I knew why, but you know, hopeless romantic and such.)

We get to talking again, and she invites me to her house party. I have to give you a little background on this… all of her friends and friends of friends and extensions of those friends of friends hate me. Okay, maybe “ALL” is an exaggeration. It is probably closer to 99.7%, but we can round up for the sake of simplicity.

So I get to the house and everyone is giving me dirty looks. *BeeWhistle* pulls me into her room and locks the door and we get down to business… everything seems to be going well but people keep on knocking on the door. For example, her roommate letting her know that the neighbors are angry about the noise, people being jackasses, people just straight-up kwokblocking… ET CETERA; this was the shit I had to deal with. Eventually it quiets down, we are getting into it, and then as she is moaning, she says someone else’s name. “What the fuck?” (Nope, story has not come full circle yet.) I have to admit, I was a little taken aback; this had not happened yet in my life, me being a virgin and all. I think “ah well, fuck it, let’s just keep going” but for some fucking reason she is not into it anymore. Funny thing is, she was so goddamn drunk that she did not even realize what she did. As she gets out from under me, as if on cue, somebody who hates me (no, that should not have narrowed it down for you) knocks on the door saying they are going to get late night tacos (because it is late at night… and they want to eat tacos).

*BeeWhistle* rushes out with her friends and I am left unsure of what to do with myself. I know what you are thinking; no I was not going to go jerk off in the bathroom. Me, being the dumbass that I was/am decided to go with them to the taco truck, and no, in all likelihood I was not invited. So we get to the taco truck (keep in mind everyone hates me), and I am just standing around being a jackass when a certain individual starts a conversation with me. Let us call him… *Araby*. He makes a comment about my shirt (WHAT THE PHO) and asks me if I am Vietnamese (people always think I am either Filipino or Vietnamese).

This might have been the alcohol talking (HIS alcohol, to be clear), but he seemed to be part of that 0.3% that did not hate me because he actually demonstrated towards me a basic level of human courtesy. We start talking and I tell him I am Cantonese. “No shit?” he says and we start speaking in Cantonese. I do not know when or how, but somehow the conversation took a deep and dark turn.


Him (while pointing to all the other people from the house party): Look at these fucking assholes, they don’t know what suffering is.

Me (thinking he is joking and playing along): Yeah, these fuckers never worked a day in their lives!

Him: Yeah, they have it so easy. They have no concept of what it is like to have to work hard, to be clawing just to survive.

Me (realizing he is pretty fucking serious): Oh come on, they’re not that bad…


I know what you’re thinking, that’s not too bad. Sounds like this guy’s been through some shit and is maybe a little resentful of people who have had an easier time in life. Does not help that he seems completely shitfaced, but that is okay. Nothing too crazy. But a few minutes later…


Him: I fucking hate my father.

Me: Why’s that?

Him: He would hit me.

Me: Goddamn. Well, at least you are now away from that…

Him (starting to tear up): But my sisters… I couldn’t protect them…

Me: Oh…

Him (really tearing up): He fucked them.

Me (thinking in my head): Oh god…

Him (starting to sob): He fucked the shit out of them.

Me (thinking in my head): What the fuck is going on here…

Him (really crying at this point): He fucked them so hard…

Me (thinking in my head): How the fuck did I end up here.

Him (sobbing uncontrollably): I WISH I COULD HAVE DONE SOMETHING.


At this point, *Krang* joins us. *Krang* is one of *BeeWhistle*’s roommates. I believe *Araby* knows *Krang* and that is why he is at the party. Obviously, she seems her friend crying and is coming to see what is the matter. At this point, we are walking back to the “house” of the aforementioned “house party.” I have no intention of hanging around; my plan was to walk these fuckers home and maybe drop *Araby* off wherever he lives because he is a fucking mess.

I am a little apprehensive at this point because I am uncertain about the level of sensitivity associated with the information that *Araby* just dropped on me. *Krang* had just joined us, had she heard this story before? Would *Araby* want her to know? Some things you can only tell a stranger…


Her: Hey, what’s wrong?

Him: My dad fucked my sisters. And I couldn’t do anything about it.

Her:



Well so much for that. *Krang* looks at me. I shrug.


Him: I want to kill him.

Me/Her: Nooooooo… don’t kill him.

Him: No, I will. I am going to fucking kill my father.

Me/Her: Nooooooooo! He’s not worth it. He’s not worth ruining the rest of your life.

Him: I am going to fucking kill him. I am going to shoot him.


At this point, I think we are way overdue for a subject change. This was at a point in my life when I still took fitness pretty seriously, so I can only assume I used my magical powers of conversation manipulation and somehow segwayed the conversation towards that topic.


Him: Yeah, I’m working out now. Doing a lot of calisthenics. I’m so damn skinny though. You got a pretty good body, good mass, but you could stand to lose some fat.

Me (thinking we should go back to talking about his father): Hah, you right, you right…



So I ask him what his address is and I end up driving him home. By the time we get to his front door, the sun is coming up. He fell asleep in the car, so I give him a gentle nudge.

Me: Hey, we’re here.

Him: Huh? What the fuck? What the fuck is this place? Where did you take me?

Me: What the FUCK? You GAVE ME YOUR ADDRESS. YOU LIVE HERE.

Him: Oh. *gets out*


Turns out he does not have the keys. We ring the bell, but nobody answers. I decide to wait with him until he can get in. I forget how, but he eventually does get in. One of his roommates probably woke up and buzzed him in. I get back in my navystone 2005 Honda Accord and drive home. As has become a very common theme in my life, all I can think is “what the FUCK happened last night?”