Say Cheese!

Let's talk about something cheesy today.

It's inspired by the other night, when Stanley, Carl and I went to Wine Connection at Robertson Quay - during one of my week-long breaks back to Singapore.

Carl had recently developed a liking for cheese after being introduced to Camembert by one of his colleagues, and was so thrilled by the taste he insisted we ate wine and cheese that night.

Funny it took Carl so long to appreciate cheese given that in his younger days, he had studied French.

But it's flawed logic, of course.

Just because Carl speaks fluent French doesn't mean he must love Camembert. 

Just like how Stanley doesn't eat samblal belacan with his cereal every morning just because he speaks fluent Malay, given his Peranakan heritage.

"But I do love to tumbuk tumbuk belacan all the time," Stanley interjected, making a rapid, obscene hand gesture to explain that "tumbuk" actually means to pound - the mortar and pestle way.

But I digress.

Let's get back to the cheese.

"This is the hard cheese, this is the soft cheese, and this is blue cheese," our short waitress said in a sing-song manner, no doubt a phrase she delivers every time she presents a cheese platter along with a large basket of bread and crackers to customers.

"Of the three types, I instantly love two of them already," Stanley said picking up his fork.

"The third type, I suggest Carl doesn't touch," Stanley continued, making an unnecessary jibe at Carl who recently revealed to us he had Erectile Dysfunction and had begun eating viagra.

"Speaking of which," Stanley raised both his eyebrows and stared at Carl's nether region with interest, and said in a creepy childlike voice like he's talking to a baby, "how's our li'l friend doooooooooing? Coochie coochie cooo...."

Carl our dense friend protectively put both hands in front of his crotch and looked like he wanted to cry.

"Leave Carl and Carl Junior alone," I snapped as I cut up one of the cheeses for both Stanley and Carl.

The wine of the night was a bottle named Very Sexy Shiraz, which, when our short waitress recommended, triggered Stanley to clap and cheer merrily as if he had found the love of his life.

"I can die in peace," Stanley the drama queen declared.

"Tonight, all my favourite things are at this table - Adam, Carl, this bottle of Sex, the hard and blue cheese, and that large basket of goodies," Stanley said, pointing not to the bread and crackers, but instead, at a nearby young and lean waiter in jeans so tight that Stanley couldn't breathe.

As we dug into the cheese, Stanley was reminded of a very apt topic.

"What do you guys think about dick cheese," he asked, licking the last morsel of his Camembert off his fingers.

Carl set his fork down, closed his eyes and pressed one fist tightly against his mouth.

"What? Don't blame me - blame Carl. He was the one the who wanted to eat cheese," Stanley said, working up some emotion for the soliloquy playing in his head.

"You can't blame me. I'm a quick thinker. Things trigger my memory," Stanley said in his defence.

Actually, Stanley is right.

Our sex bunny friend is also very random at times.

Very often, he would blurt out something out of the blue just because something he saw or something someone said reminded him of a random event, which in almost all cases, were related to sex.

Typically, those reminders would pop up at Cold Storage Holland Village - our routine to end the night if we hung out at HV.

We'd be strolling along the fresh food section when Stanley would randomly pick up a banana and say "Charles from last week," or a fresh peach and say "this reminds me of a poodle's vagina," or a particularly wrinkled lime and say "is it me or does this look like scrotum?"

Again, I digress.

Let's get back to the cheese.

"Anyway," Stanley continued, cutting up another portion of Camembert, placing it on his forefinger.

"This, ladies and gentlemen, is Peter, aka HornyExec," Stanley explained almost too proudly.

Carl had by then switched to eating pure carbs, grapes, raisins, olives... anything but the cheeses which he had loved so much some five minutes ago.

According to Stanley, his one-night-stand partner who was indeed an executive and indeed very horny, had all it takes to be a young model.

He's tall, lean, has a thick head of hair which he had permed and parted sideways like a Korean superstar.

He has just a little bit of a flabby tummy but that's okay, Stanley said.

"What's NOT okay," Stanley's tone took a turn for Anger Lane, "is that he had dick cheese!"

Our short waitress paused in her tracks and asked Stanley cheerfully, "did you want more cheese?"

Stanley turned towards Strawberry Shortcake, smiled, and said "definitely not".

Back to Peter.

Stanley said he was so happy to have struck gold with this HornyExec but when he knelt down and was about to have his cake and eat it, ate cheese instead.

"Eeeeeewwwww," Carl and I both reacted in unison.

It was such an unsavoury topic that the both of us had to lean in and wait for more details to unfold.

And so, Stanley unfolded.

What he found, when he pulled back HornyExec's foreskin, was a layer of dick cheese which was the amount of Camembert Stanley currently had on his forefinger.

Enthralled, Carl and I asked... "then what did you do?"

In response, Stanley put his entire finger of cheese in his mouth, licked off the curdled dairy, smiled and looked at us.

"Eeeeeeeewwww," Carl and I both reacted in unison.

Carl pushed the cheese platter towards Stanley and took several gulps of Very Sexy Shiraz to drown his sorrows.

As we ordered our second bottle of Very Sexy Shiraz, I harped on HornyExec.

How on earth is it that some men can be so damn dirty, I demanded.

Don't people have basic hygiene?

Stanley merely shrugged.

Carl gazed into the distance, no doubt suffering from PTSD.

People who bother to change their nicks to Horny-something would more or less expect action, right, I ask the table though effectively I only have Stanley as audience.

So wouldn't they do some housekeeping at least?

Again, Stanley merely shrugged. 

So, what's the deal breaker for you guys, I ask the table, snapping my fingers several times in front of Carl, hoping to wake him up from his self-inflicted hypnosis.

Can we accept BO?

Can we accept bad breath?

Can we accept dick cheese?

Carl shook his head violently at that thought.

Yeah, thought so. Me too, I said.

Stanley sheepishly said, my answer is not A, B, or C, but D - none of the above. I can take all three. In fact, I have taken all three.

"What... I am all loving, all encompassing," Stanley said defensively, looking guilty for literally being a dirty slut.

"Besides, you can't catch bad hygiene. Only STD," Stanley reasoned.

Just as I suggested changing the topic, Stanley said: "Well... the reason I raised this topic is...."

Carl and I turned to Stanley and waited.

"I'm actually kinda seeing HornyExec now."

"Eeeeeeeewwwww," Carl and I said in unison.



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Adam's stories are based on real life events and inspired by real people