What's Your Indian Name?

"You ready?" called E@L's flat mate. He jangled the car keys as he stood by the door with his briefcase.

"Hang on, just a tick," answered E@L . In anticipation of a typical office day he was throwing another novel into his bag just in case he finished the first one before lunch-time, when he felt something, a slight alteration in the power of the force, a ripple in the matrix. He knew that something portentous was nearby. He stood up. There it was again, the internal shakey-cam of his consciousness. It felt like soft-machinery whirring; production line, conveyor belt, exit chute...

"Give me just a minute," he called out to his flatmate. "I need to take another dump." He moved into their shared en-suite (between their two bedrooms) and shut both doors.

"You've already had a crap this morning!" complained his flatmate, calling in through the bedroom door. (He'd had to wait for the shower while E@L occupied the en-suite the first time, an hour earlier, had heard the shuffling of the newspaper. "Are you READING in there?" he had asked...)

So he put down his breifcase and relaxed. He ambled back into the lounge-room, plonked himself on the sofa and turned the TV back on using several of the many remote controls on the coffee-table. The same as every morning.


"Do you know what your Indian name is?" said his flatmate when E@L finally emerged, adjusting his belt.

"My Indian name? Lone Eagle? Geronimo? Two-Dogs-Fucking? No, I give up, what is it?"


"Ha ha. It's just how my bowels work, man. I don't know why..." said E@L .

"And then there's your four o'clock crap. Every afternoon at four you have another crap." They were getting into the Honda CRV in the car-park. "After farting for at least an hour non-stop."

"How do you know I fart? Damn, I thought I was being silent. It's the meusli. And the fruit." [Breakfast, Ed]

"Right, good question. How do I know? Because I'm not that deaf and I do have a sense of smell... Dude, I sit right behind you in the cubicle. You blow chocolate air-bubbles directly at me from three to four every fucking day! Then you disappear for twenty minutes, come back and we head for coffee. I can set my watch by you."

"You know way too much about my bowel habits... By the power of Grayskull, that's kinda creepy, dude."

"That is so true. I do know way too much about you, and not just about how often you crap. In general I know too much. Creepy isn't the word. I'm currentiy thinking that sharing a flat and sharing an office cubicle is way too much day-to-day contact for adult men... at least men who are not characters in a TV comedy series..."

They twisted their way around Kennedy Rd, pausing for the inevitable roadworks. If it wasn't the CableTV company it was the Gasworks. If it wasn't the Gasworks it was the Waterboard, or the Telcos. Some Utility Company or other is always ferreting away in the innards below Hong Kong's roadways, blocking half of the traffic.

"What are you trying to say? That you're sick of me? That you're leaving me?"

"Yep, I'm outa here. When the lease comes up next July, I'm going to move in with Liesl."

"You're going to abandon me, leave me to pay this for this exhorbitant flat by myself, and go and live with that, that woman? Just because I am predictable and regular in my bowel motions?"

"Not because you're regular, but because I KNOW that you're regular. That's just too much information. And besides," he said quietly, "Liesl and I are getting married."

E@L was looking out the window at the back of the skyscrapers of Wanchai. So tall, so vertical, so regular. So married... Married!

"WHAT? You're getting married? That's fantastic! When?"

The flatmate eased into a congested diverging lane to take the exit onto the elevated causeway towards North Point.

"As soon as I ask her."

He dropped back into second gear, turned to E@L and smiled his silly smart-arse grin.

"Can Two-Shits-In-The-Morning cope with being best man to Happy-Eagle-With-Rampant-Penis?"

"Sure, sure! Whenever, whatever! Congratulations! Can we call you Rampant from now on?"

"If you must, dude." He tooted the horn, passed a slow-moving car, and flattened the accelerator as the new lane was clear ahead. Nothing happened for about 15 seconds as the Honda thought about it, but then they took off, flying on concrete over the junks and fishing boats below in a large carving turn towards the office. "If you must."



Posted by: expat@large on Jul 23, 07 | 3:16 pm | Profile


You managed to include the phrase...well done?

Posted by: Indiana on Jul 23, 07 | 4:04 pm

I forgot what the other ones were...

Posted by: expat@large on Jul 23, 07 | 4:11 pm

this was a writing contest? lovely little short story, sugar!

Posted by: savannah on Jul 23, 07 | 5:42 pm

Just needed to get the Power of Grayskull into my next post, for some reason.

This is no way near how my flatmate (Steve) announced he was getting married (to Britta) by the way. The TRUE story is totally outrageous. One day I'll post about it.

Posted by: expat@large on Jul 23, 07 | 6:37 pm

will this help?

Posted by: savannah on Jul 23, 07 | 9:36 pm

Thanx Sav: but they only have less than 5 left in my size!!!

We heard the MOTU quote last night in what has to be the hottest and the fuzziest movie of the year! A real tear-jerker, in the laughter sense. Bad BoyzII meets Little Britain.

I'm going to watch it again now...

Great quote from the scene where they watch "Point Break" on DVD...

Nicholas Angel: Well, I wouldn't argue that it wasn't a no holds barred, adrenaline fueled thrill ride. But, there is no way you can perpetrate that amount of carnage and mayhem and not incur a considerable amount of paperwork.

[Cut to the last scene (after the village carnage) with all the police sitting around a large desk with great piles of paper, writing up report after report...] :-)

Posted by: expat@large on Jul 23, 07 | 10:16 pm

cool beans, thanks, sugar! bill nighy is in it! i'll have to check it out! (pls to explain "MOTU" i had a drinking lunch and my mind isn't itself yet)

Posted by: savannah on Jul 24, 07 | 3:53 am


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