Things That Make Me (The Cheapskate) Go Hmm...

Hmm... number one:

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And it is high time, too.

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Hmm... number two:

The hawk spied one chick as she tottered in, stealthily removed himself from his original position to a more strategic spot, and stayed there the entire night, eyeing the two chicks at the other side of the bar.

Of course, the first chick had noticed. Not because the hawk was a hunky-dory one, but because she smelt danger lurking.

Nonetheless, to prevent feathers from being unnecessarily ruffled, the first chick swiftly engaged the second chick in a deep, girly conversation (mostly about some other cocks - pun intended).

The jokes and laughter brought about much merry-making, the wild chirps and giggles of the chicks resonating the quiet bar. The chicks made no delay in ordering plate after plate of food (some absolutely sinful chicken wings, no less), glass after glass of whites.

When the clock struck half-past-eight, the second chick excused herself from the merry-making to partake in a phonecall. The first chick, still sensing menace five feet away, brought forth her always-steady-always-ready laptop, and began writing some "important" emails and then chatting with her virtual friends.

"Anything. Anything to keep me busy. Even if there's nothing, I'll just pretend to laugh at the computer - I'm good at that," thought the poor first chick.

At half-past-nine, the hawk finally struck.

Expressing mock horror on their faces, the two chicks eyed the freshly-served whites for a few seconds, before putting on their most innocently quizzical looks: "Erm, we didn't order two more leh."

As if on cue, the two chicks turned slowly toward the hawk. The hawk smiled, gave a sly nod, and waved a couple of his fat fingers.

"Urgh. Gross," thought the first chick.

Picking up the new white, she did a little toast-in-the-air to the hawk and put on her fakest smile ever as a gesture of unwilling thanks. But not before giving the white a suspicious whiff. "I'll kill him if it's not Wolf Blass."

Immediately after, she threw herself back into her imaginery laughter with her imaginery friends inside the laptop.

Not less than fifteen long minutes later, the hawk moved again.

"Damn," the first chick groaned. But from the corner of her eyes, she noticed the hawk was giving up on his prey; he was getting up and ready to leave. Her brilliant tactic had worked!

But what the awesome first chick hadn't realized was that her brilliance transcends way beyond her own imagination.

The hawk had picked up their tab before departing, preyless, despite weak protests from the first chick.

"No lah! Please! No need!" And then, silence.


Poor dude, the first chick thought the next day while she was checking out her poop.

Of all the chicks in the house, the silly hawk had to pick the two that ate and drank the most.

Sigh, what a cock.