Key Decision

It's official.

Stanley our sex bunny friend has news.

Two weeks ago, Stanley stirred the group chat to life.

"Boys, let's meet 9am on Sat - pick y'all up at yr place."

The next day, the three of us gathered only at 11.30am, true to our unbecoming habit of disregarding any form of punctuality.

As Carl our dense friend steps into the car, Stanley turns from his seat to face us and announces.

"I have officially bought the Queens Close flat!"

That was quickly followed by a continuous and collective squeal by the three of us in Stanley's car.

Anyone on duty at the weather station that morning would be alarmed by the sudden spike of seismic activity seen only in Tiong Bahru.

When the squealing finally stopped, Carl our dense friend started round two by clapping rapidly.

Stanley and I joined him, our group applause working up yet another unexplainable wave of tremors.

It must have been a busy and puzzling day for whoever was at the weather station.

But first things first.

Stanley wants us to be the first to view his flat.

Ten minutes later, we arrived at the neighbourhood.

"There," Stanley said proudly as if he were the town mayor.

"No, no, no, Carl. We're not going anywhere. We're viewing the unit from outside. I only get the keys two months down the road."

Carl's python-size biceps shrank in disappointment as he gloomily glared ahead.

"But there's nothing down the road," he said with a pout as if Santa isn't coming with presents.

Turns out, there is lots to see down the road.

First stop, Stanley brought us to the nearby Mei Ling Street Market where we would have a first-hand taste of brunch there.

As we sat before our spread of char bee hoon, fish ball noodles and black char tow kway, Stanley clasped his hands and said: "These are what I'll eat with my furture handsome husband when we wake up on Sundays after a rough night of sex on Thursday."

Carl, who has already put a fish ball in his mouth, counted with his non-chopstick holding hand, and with a sudden realisation of horror, slowly pulled out the fish ball and closed his eyes to compose himself.

After the cheap and good brunch, Stanley the Scout brought us on another adventure.

"This is the lush, green trail that I'll sometimes take evening strolls on," Stanley said with his arms spread wide as if to introduce us to the Amazon Forest.

"Over there, that's Queenstown MRT station. And over here," Stanley pauses for effect, "is the quarters of the elite police force."

Carl perked up at the revelation, his swollen biceps throbbing to life.

Carl is always fascinated by policemen.

As kids, one might say when I grow up I want to be a policeman. 

For Carl, it's when I grow up I want to do a policeman.

Carl especially likes the beefy ones who look like they can lift five burglars with one arm but have trouble chasing after one because of their bulky frame.

Carl stood near the fence of the quarters and began constructing a love story involving a very strong abang polis.

Wanting to be encouraging, Stanley stood beside Carl and put his hand on our dense friend's shoulders.

"Some day, my friend," Stanley said to Carl, "you will have a beefy policeman stopping you and asking you to blow his stick."

Carl's eyes lit up with hope.

"But let's hope you'll never be caught for drink driving." 

It was soon time for Carl to say goodbye to his short-lived romance and he reluctantly parted ways with the police quarters because Stanley our tour guide is rushing us already.

Next stop, the green corridor.

A stone's throw from Stanley's block is the beautifully revamped railway track that, in one direction takes us to Tanjong Pagar and the other, towards Rail Mall, near Stanley's and my family home.

Stanley even went to the extent of introducing us the neighbourhood cat, a grey and white tabby, who stirred awake from his noon nap, glared at his intruders, then proceeded to stretch and yawn.

By 1pm, all three of us felt the need to join the cat from all the exhaustion but no, Stanley has plans.

We were to move on to Ikea to source for furniture.

Carl licked his lips instinctively thinking of the famed meatballs there.

"There'll be so much to do from now on - there's no time to waste. I'm putting dating and one-night-stands on hold for now," said Stanley switching from sex bunny to energiser bunny mode.

"What do you think of this sofa? What do you think of this bed? What do you think of - wait, where's Carl? Did he sneak off to the restaurant?!"

Indeed, there's lots for Stanley to do, but there's only that much that can be done in one day.

By 4pm, Carl, who can lift weights for 3 hours and not complain, looked like he was about to crumble.

His human spirit and endurance have been put to the test.

"I will give you any top, official secret you seek - please either release me or finish me off," Carl begged.

Stanley the new home owner smiled.

"Yes, darling. I do seek some of the things you mentioned: Top, official, and especially releasing and finishing off".

"But let's be patient shall we? I don't have a place. Yet."

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

Child's Play

This time last year, I was travelling in a more rural part of Myanmar when I spotted a group of village kids at play.

It was fun in its most engaging, most raw forms - no sophisticated toys nor hand phone app games.

Stanley my sex bunny friend often agrees that fun in its most engaging - and especially raw forms - would be exceptional even if there are no sophisticated toys involved.

But today's topic is honestly wholesome.

Nothing of the Stanley's type of sexual nonsense.

The kids - ranging from five (I think) to as old as 13 (I think), were running around with sticks and tree branches, pretending they're machine guns.

It's a refreshing sight, to see such unadulterated play among kids.

I cannot ever recall seeing any kid in Singapore (my godson included), playing without expensive, sophisticated toys or without the aid of mobile apps.

Singapore is a society that breeds successful children who would be engaged in either designer play or intellectual games. There's no room for letting children's imaginations run wild and have them pretend to be astronauts using make shift spaceships made out of card boxes.

No. Not when we are so wealthy and can shower our kids with these toys.

Perhaps, kids today won't know what they're missing if they haven't grown up in the 80s like my siblings and me.

Of course, we did grow up with Nintendoes and the Brick Game, and later on the Play Station.

But when we were much younger, we had very little toys.

While our mum believed in showering us with toys, granny strongly objected to it, saying it's a waste of money.

So when we were toy-deprived, my siblings and I would make up games to play - which proved to be some of our happiest childhood memories.

Thanks to granny's addiction to TVB drama serials, much of our childhood games were inspired by the period dramas that involved sword-wielding heroes who could fly from tree to tree with ease.

I remember fashioning a sword out of a long ruler - pasting one end of the stationery with paper (which would be my sword handle) and making a sheath out of newspapers for my Heavenly Sabre.

My elder sister's choice of weapon was a deadly Chinese fan which she claims can slice a person's throat and kill him in under two minutes.

My sister was that dark and detailed.

Younger brother Barry chose a whip as his offensive weapon, made out of rubber bands plaided together with the help of our mum.

Our play time would often be before dinner, when our mum allowed us to run around the front and backyard of our house, working up an appetite for dinner.

Our pugilistic games would often revolve around one of us battling for the title of the Formidable One.

Very often, it would be a team effort - usually my whip wielding brother and I would combine forces to attack our fan slicing sister.

My sister would, however, be the one calling the shots, deciding if a particular blow my brother or I gave her was lethal or strong enough to injure her, which, as you can guess, was never the case. She was always somehow immune to our attacks.

She on the other hand, decided that her fan moves could injure me or my brother and she always ended up being the Formidable One.

My brother and I would be left with no choice but to heal each other with our inner strength, which often involves one of us pushing his palms against the injured party's back, causing him to fake-vomit blood to recover from sis' fan slices.

And then there were peaceful, non-battling days.

I would play dress up with my sis, helping ourselves to mum's collection of jewellery especially her many clip-on earrings.

Sis would always take pride in decking me up, pleased to have transformed me into the little sister she never had.

Meanwhile, Barry, who would run away the moment sis tries to dress him up, would end up playing the role of the male servant to his two princesses.

Those were such happy memories that I messaged my siblings in our group chat, asking if they remembered those precious days.

Of course, sis remembers but denies ever using her authority to bully us into making herself the Formidable Fighter.

Barry has no recollection of having two older sisters but recalls being healed by me after sis's fan attack.

That day, I spent the entire day reliving my happy childhood games, wishing we never had to grow up.

Stanley my sex bunny friend does not have such happy child-play memories with his sister Cindy Ong whom Stanley hates with a passion.

"She never shares her barbie dolls with me," Stanley said to me. "So one day, when she was in school, I took one of her dolls and cut her hair, thinking it's okay because hair would grow after all."

Stanley was in Sec One when he did that.

"Why are you asking?" Stanley said, unable to believe that I'm running out of more exciting topics to write about that I had to resort to writing childhood games.

"If you lack inspiration, all you have to do is ask," Stanley said.

"I have a hell lot of childhood game stories I can tell you about, which would leave your readers lusting for more," Stanley the Slut offered.

"And trust me, like you, I fashion toys but instead of using them to attack, I use them for pure enjoyment."

God bless Stanley and his scarred childhood.

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

Elections, Elections

The people of Singapore have spoken.

And Stanley Ong my sex bunny friend has voted.

"This one, I don't mind. I approve," Stanley said licking his lips and reaching for another handful of Kettle chips (honey mustard).

"This one too -- but I think he seriously needs to lose his paunch. And his pants. I honestly don't mind, 'cos he has such a baby face."

It's the one night when almost all of Singapore stayed up and stayed glued to the screen to watch national TV for once, and not Netflix.

On polling night, Stanley and I were at Carl our dense friend's condo to watch the real-life drama develop.

Stanley was exceptionally excited. The election show is one show he doesn't mind staying up to watch, the way he would stay up at night to watch Asian porn, which Stanley argues are similar. 

There's group action, there's one-on-one action, they all lead to a climax, and eventually, there'll be a clear division of the top and bottom role.

The show, expected to start at 8pm but ended up being broadcast at 10pm, really spoilt our plans.

Carl was most disappointed.

He had timed our pizza delivery orders such that at exactly 8pm sharp, we could sink our teeth into pipping hot chilli crab flavoured pizza and take a swig of ice-cold beer (Little Creatures -- Carl said it has no calories) and start commentating on newscasters and their clothes, the stupid things they'd say, and hopefully, catch some exhausted reporter tripping on their lines and making memes out of them.

For Stanley, his focus is way sharper.

He wants to endorse candidates not just by what they can bring to the table, but also by what they can potentially bring to the bed.

"I don't need you to be my voice in Parliament -- I just want to whisper lovingly into your ear," Stanley said, singling out one young candidate whose photo he produced on his phone.

"I love some of the new faces that the parties are fielding this time -- young and supple and I definitely want them to take care of me during this crisis, hug me lovingly and shield me from the harsh downturn from this pandemic," says Stanley, now looking straight into the TV screen and speaking directly to the young, handsome candidates.

For Stanley, what's important is not the COVID-19 or jobs package. It's the package that matters.

"I think this fella has a big tool," Stanley would say, just as the newscaster says something serious and political over the candidate's footage.

Carl, who has no interest -- nor knowledge -- on Singapore politics whatsoever, is still enjoying the night.


Any gathering is a good gathering to our dense friend, who would delve deep into party politics -- from his glassware and snacks choices, right down to what time he plans for the pizza man to arrive.


That night, the three of us sat and ate snacks as we zestfully took part in the making of Singapore.

"He has nice big arms -- I like," Carl said, referring to one young candidate whose half-naked photo was circulated online.

Stanley agrees, but points out that he prefers another older candidate who looks like his hairy arms can fend off enemies one minute, and protectively spoon you from behind and cuddle you to sleep the next minute.

"I've always enjoyed scrutinising the PAP candidates very carefully," Stanley said the moment the boring analysts started talking. "Given that in my sec school days, I've always found SJI boys very cute, I find myself gravitating towards them... and my eyes too, will gravitate towards their buttocks 'cos, sometimes, if you stare hard enough, you can see the colour of their underwear."

Carl spurted out his Little Creatures and starting coughing.

As the night went on, more drama unfolded.

Ooooo... Workers' Party won Sengkang! 

This new breakout star is kinda cute no, I said.

Stanley immediately agrees.

Carl, who has no idea whom we're talking about, began to frantically google search for some answer but true to his pigeon-like attention span, got distracted by a WhatsApp message followed by Candy Crush.

"I think Jamus reminds me of an endearing, eager-to-please retriever," Stanley concluded, adding "and I want him to sit! give me your hand! and roll over!".

I was scared to ask Stanley what he meant.

"I truly want to know to what extent Jamus means when he says he wants to serve his residents."

Eventually, Stanley grew tired of ogling at the male candidates and turned his attention on other things.

At one point, Stanley morphed into Mean Girls mode, commenting that one of the new female candidates looked like a giant teapot.

"Dear PAP, when you want to field a political heavyweight, you shouldn't go by a person's BMI," Stanley said to the TV.

Even the innocent show guests weren't spared.

"Can someone tell the political analyst that he looks ridiculous in his half-Safari; half-batik outfit? He looks like someone you'd find at the entrance of an Indonesian restaurant."

As night turned into near dawn, Carl started fidgeting like a child getting impatient at an arthouse movie his parents brought him to.

"Shh, take this bottle and play with it," Stanley said to Carl dismissively, brushing him off as he focused on listening to more election results.

Carl was confused but clearly hesitant to clarify with Stanley exactly what he means by play with the bottle.

At long last, seven hours later, the show came to an end with the PAP winning 83 of 93 seats.

As we wrapped up the night at Carl's, Stanley echoed what our prime minister had been asking for: Voters' strong mandate.

"I totally can understand why PM wants a strong mandate," Stanley said seriously.

"I think any man date who is strong is very promising."

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

Flat Hope

Stanley my sex bunny friend had been very busy of late, and he has an update.


He'd been visiting random strangers' homes nearly every weekend, seeking that one mystical sensation before satisfyingly releasing his deposits.

"I thought it'd be a breeze with all the practice I've had in all my adult life, but girls, house hunting is a whirlwind," he typed in our group chat titled Just the Boys which we also share with Carl our dense friend.

"What is that feeling you all keeping speaking of?" Stanley demanded to know, referring to what every house hunter has cryptically mentioned during the course of his search: "You'll know it when you find the right place".

"I am 40, and have stepped into enough random strangers' bedrooms and I have felt many sensations that would put the human spirit to the test - trust me, I've done the legwork - but I'm just not getting it when I'm house hunting," Stanley wrote, his text reflecting more desperation than frustration.

Carl replied with a gif of a nuclear explosion. 

"Morning activity," he typed.

"Time to catch up on all your messages," Carl wrote.

"Then you'll have a lot to catch up on, darling," Stanley replied without missing a beat.

Carl, who has trouble naming at least three other planets in the solar system, lives in a world of his own, often unaware of what's going on in the world. 

His world revolves around work, gym, and us. 

But at this moment, Carl's world revolves around just his bedroom.

"I'm ill," he wrote, changing the topic of the morning.

"And I don't think I'm going anywhere today," he typed, adding a few sad faces for effect. 

"In my world, Carl, living life in bed isn't something to be sad about," Stanley replied, before expertly diverting our attention back to his situation, "now back to me."

Stanley had been visiting various flats and there are some which he really liked. 

One of them is a flat in central Singapore that made the news for the wrong reasons. 

An elderly woman had died in the flat which caught fire some four years ago, which led to the government adjusting fire-hazard policies along cluttered corridors. 

The unit had since been left unsold.

"And you want to buy that flat why?" I ask with genuine concern. 

"I do like it... it's very breezy and airy," Stanley said. 

"Plus, it's going for a good price..."

Carl replied with a gif of Casper the friendly Ghost. 

And then, there's another flat in the west that Stanley also likes but suspects was the site of a murder-suicide case some years ago.

Carl replied with a gif of a petrified Snow White retreating into the woods. 

To his credit, Carl typed: "Are you house hunting or ghost hunting, Stan?"

Having been a dog owner for a large part of his life, Stanley immediately rewarded Carl with a series of applauding hands to encourage him to keep himself relevant, engaging and witty. 

Carl responded with a smiley face. 

Hours later, Stanley stirred the group chat to life again.

Turns out, Stanley has almost made up his mind.

He is leaning towards the unit in the west.

After pressing his agent for information, Stanley proudly announces that the unit has no ghosts.

"No murder, no suicide took place at Queens Close, so there are no ghosts there," Stanley reported. 

"If there were, the agent is bound by law to tell me," he said. 

I wanted to ask if the agent is bound by law to tell him about ghosts or suicide cases but decided not to take on Carl's role. 

Stanley then proceeds to post various photos of the four-room flat in the group chat.

"You know I'm serious when I produce photos," said Stanley, who often shows us photos of men he's flirting with.

"Whaddya think?"

Truth be told, the unit Stanley's looking at is indeed lovely.

Although Stanley's family home is a three-storey house, the flat is big enough for one person.

Big enough to host parties (the sort that involve wines that make you high) and big enough to host parties (that sort that involve whines that make you high).

In a bid to strengthen his case, Stanley argues that although Queens Close is in the west, it's arguably a stone's throw to Orchard Road. 

"It has to be Hercules throwing that stone then," Carl pointed out, outdoing himself for the second time of the day.

Maybe being ill is a good thing for Carl after all. 

The body is in repair mode and his cells are rewiring his clueless brain at the same time.

Stanley replied with a gif of a dog gobbling up dog biscuits. 

"And girls," Stanley typed and paused dramatically for two minutes for effect.

"I have placed a deposit with the owner.... I'm now waiting for the valuation report!"

Carl replied with actual words: "Wow, Stan!!!!! Congrats!!!"

"I'm filled with excitement and joy," Stanley replied, adding "and I'm not even referring to two nights ago, which is another story for another day."

"Right now, I want all of you to be happy for my would-be flat."

"And what better place for me to live in, than Queens Close," Stanley said, wrapping up his case with aplomb.

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