Buying me Breakfast.

The day started out normal enough, in fact, it sorta ended normally too, but something that happened in between intrigued me. It wasn't until today until I gave it much thought, until I filtered this seemingly normal event into it's elements. Yesterday morning, I decided to head out to my nearby chinese restaurant to enjoy myself a plate of savoury Wan Tan noodles. Normally, I'd have my mother fetch me there and 'tapao' it back home. But since mom was running a little late, I strolled my skinny ass out there, jiving along with the beats of Maroon 5. I swear I caught the eye of a few hopeful elderly women.


I placed my order, patting my right pocket just to check if my money was still there, damned hole in my pocket seemed to be getting bigger everyday. As I made my way to the single seat located conveniently below a shady roof, I caught eye of a very familiar face, let's call him Uncle Frank. I figured it was only good mannerism if I greeted him. I walked shiftily towards him, his table filled with other middle-aged uncles', I couldn't help myself but to greet him in a stuttered tone.

Uncle Frank looked up over his shoulder, slighty surprised at the tone of a young boy mumbling his name this early in the morning. At the moment's glance, a smile broke up across his face, and I shook his hand with content, in recognition of me. To no surprise of course, my father and him used to go swimming every other weekend. As I turned to head to my seat, Uncle Frank instantly stopped me in my tracks and asked me to join his table of friends. I stared at him with awe. How could I deny him?

As I pulled up a chair awkwardly, I noticed the cigarettes that each uncle held in between their fingers. Not saying that i hated smokers and their habits, but I do dislike hanging around them and inhaling copious amounts of carbon monoxide and Nicotine. As I pondered my situation, Uncle Frank introduced his friends to me, all of them nodded and agreed in some sort of unison at the mention of my father's name. I never knew my dad was that famous. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a worker carrying my food arriving on a silver plate.

As he set down my steaming plate of noodles, I instinctively asked " Gei dou lui a? " which means "how much?" in canton, even though the worker was clearly a Vietnamese, they catch on real quick. " 5.60." he mumbled in canton. Even before I could whip out my cash, Uncle Frank already hollered at the worker and slapped a 10 Ringgit bill in his face. Before I could stop him, he already made away with the money and retrieving change for Uncle Frank. I cried out in discontent and offered to pay Uncle Frank back with my own money, but he simply waved it off. I was dumbfounded inside. If my brain had a face, it would've made this one:

:0

I hate being judgmental, but had this man no value for money? I was lost deep in thought as I slurped the smooth Wan Tan noodles greedily, my eyebrows creased with a deep frown of question. Does Uncle Frank treat everyone he knew like this? How was I special? I wasn't a business partner, or a relative, just a mere acquaintance made from my father. The puffs and huffs of cigarette smoke tainted the taste of my meal, and clouded my thoughts. The loud conversation they were having about food joints wasn't clearing my mind either. I swear I was contracting lung cancer just sitting there.

Before making my way home, I thanked Uncle Frank earnestly and nodded with a warm smile. He grunted in reply and said it was nothing. After a nights rest, I continued to wonder about Uncle Franks' actions. Was it a simple gesture of goodwill? Or did he expect something from me in return? What could a wealthy businessman possibly want from a 16 year-old like me? Did buying meals for others show a sign of dominance? Questions, question (: