SOS flies in when you least expected it. On Friday, it
manifested in a form of IvanH. with a pitiful cup of Chatime bubble tea. The
offering had clearly seen a traffic jam, having melted down to a distinct layer
of water and milk tea, the pearls rarely visible in the murky waters. You know
he had to be dang desperate to be doing so, honking away at my front door with
his Proton Iswara. I, on the other hand, was baffled by this mad man and
decided to do what an annoyed pangolin would do – ignore him. Then the
monotonous sound kept going on for five solid minutes. Idiot. There’s such an
invention called doorbell, make use of it!
“What the hell, Ivan! You trying to get yourself killed?”
The moment he lowered the tinted window, he offered a handshake. Cold sweaty
palms, pimple-clad face, papers in the back seat and a strong citrus smelling
car interior; ex-colleague is hard at work.
“I don’t know what to get. Original flavor okay?” He said,
handing me the cup as I frown at the quality of the drink.
“You didn’t have to. What’s up?”
IvanH. ran through an urgent message that my ex-boss
entrusted him to me. To hold a basic AI & PS class temporarily over the
weekend. The students comprise of working adults and possibly kids. I didn’t
quite like the idea without thorough details, but the pay is great. A whopping
five grand just for that weekend.
Money God,
Vonnie S.
Vonnie S.
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