Forget the Botanical Gardens and Orchards, I’m off to Fort Canning Park.

I beeline to a bench behind the Old Bill that’s now  a Cultural Center. I had a quick mossy inside, no mention of it’s rich and bloody past. None what so ever. Only white washed walls and artwork with red dots.

I was somehow waiting for someone. They’d never come. But if they did, I’d know who they were. It was time to meet-and-greet-Jesus. That Goh, bad haircut, dodgy scar and attitude to match Tay, just intrigues me. Now how the fuck can you ever come up with a character like that?

He’s the biggest assole under the sun and in many ways, he’s running neck to neck with Tay to being Singapore’s biggest smart ass.

I lit up a cigarette and admired how totally addicted I was.

And as if I was picking up on some kind of conversation from the past on this very green park bench, I heard  an address.

Goh didn’t hold back. He was wink winking and nudge nudging Tay all the way to Sentosa Island. You know you have hit a wealthy area when Google Street View doesn’t exist.  It’s okay to expose the poor pimps of Geylang, but just don’t get too close to  237 Ocean Drive.

But first another cigarette.

Inhale, exhale.

I can see the Anti-Smoking Brigade marching up the brick path towards me, carrying pitchforks and Frappuccinos, looking to roast my ass for the simple act of smoking.

But no matter how horrid this  scene  might be, they aren’t going to deprive me of the sweet hit of nicotine.

 All Tay had to do was take out his pack of Marlboros and light one, and then the universe was back in order again.

Then I decided another course of action , run like a son of  a gun. Fucked if they were going to generate income for the city by nailing my fat ass.


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