Love in the time of amoeba

10.58 p.m. I just got home from Chong Hua hospital. Bibi and I visited Doidoi, a pajero-driving blogger and entrepreneur. Of course, our high school friend.

Bibi and I were actually so bored to the point of insanity. We thought that by modifying our evening’s routine – by going to a hospital instead of the usual coffee shop, mall or karaoke bar – our current condition, boredom, would become less humungous.

We were right. We had a great laugh over usually unfunny stuffs. Doidoi’s condition is not really serious. So it is alright to be silly.

Doidoi is merely hosting a party, or convention, of amoebas representing various food delegations.

But amoebas can be very unruly sometimes. This is because amoebas are citizens of third-world food groups e.g. street foods, carenderia foods. They are not cultured. You don’t get amoeba when you dine in places like, say, Shangri-la or The Terraces. You only get layers of credit card bills – which are, by the way, sophisticated kinds of bacteria.

But unlike credit card bills, amoebas are a more troublesome lot when they get drunk. They urinate a lot. And this is especially disgusting for the host, in this situation, Doidoi.

The host is unwittingly given the hellish task of disposing the urines of the amoebas – through its bottom. In point of fact, the nurse asked Doidoi if she moved her bottom within the last few hours and Doidoi agonizingly responded that she did. The nurse asked, “Where is it?” and Doidoi replied, “I flushed it.” The nurse gasped, “Whaaaat?” The nursed walked out and slammed the door behind her. She was Alfred-Hitchcock’s-Psycho scared. Doidoi was flabbergasted, she became less esteemed.

I am just being silly, actually. The truth of the matter is that Doidoi was supposed to go home today but postponing it tomorrow instead for further tests. And this is not an unusual situation. Amoeba conventions, or parties, last for days.

But only very few in the human race have fathomed and really understood the staggering effects of amoebas in our body. Amoebas alter the host’s sexuality. Amoebas open the mind of the host to an array of kinky alternatives.

In one of the enlightened chapters of our evening, Bibi shared her suspenseful but almost romantic Parisian episode. She struck a conversation with a Parisian woman who seems to offer a fulfilling, guiltless and Hollywood-esque one night stand. She was wrong. The Parisian had a gang of bold and brazen men. Bibi was almost pimped.

Doidoi, who until then seemed to be the most generous host to her party of amoebas, lost her sense of finesse. In response to Bibi’s Parisian experience, she simply said, “it’s okay to be gang-raped.” Gasp. We love amoebas. Doidoi, welcome to the human race.