Saturday is meant to be restful. After the grind of the previous five days in school, I always enjoy the relative peace of Saturdays. However, there was a Saturday that was neither restful nor peaceful.
That Saturday started off in promising fashion. There was nothing much to do but to laze around, watch television and eat rambutans off the tree beside my house. However, at about five in the evening things began to become chaotic. The reason was we had unwelcome visitors.
The unwelcome visitors were none other than my father’s best friend and his obnoxious family. Pardon me for using such a description but I can find no better word.
Immediately on arriving at our house, his two boys began swarming up the rambutan tree plucking and eating rambutans as though the tree belonged to them. Their parents did not even say a single word to restrain them. They were too busy chatting with my father and my none-too-pleased mother.
One minute after these two brats had ascended the tree, they clambered down like monkeys being chased by red ants. In fact, there were kerenggas on the tree, something which I neglected to tell them. Anyway, they never gave me a chance. So they had to pay the price of their ill-manners by yelling in pain as the little red devils bit into their flesh, and all their mother said was, “Be careful, dear.”
After the painful episode, the two terrors stayed clear of the tree and concentrated their attention on other things. My bicycle became their victim as they literally fought to have a ride, and all their mother said was again, “Be careful, dear. it was really infuriating.
Dusk came, and still, they showed no sign of leaving. Soon it was too dark to remain outdoors and everyone adjourned into the living room. My goodness, never I had experienced such a commotion in my house. Everyone seemed to be talking at the same time and the two brats were tearing at my toys that I had left in the living room. Their mother, what kind of a woman was she whose only words to her sons seemed to be “Be careful, dear”?
Anyhow the situation dragged on and on and my mother was wondering if they were ever going to leave. We had not been expecting any visitor and thus she had not prepared dinner for them. She was at a loss about what to do. So my father told her to hold dinner until these people were gone.
Time dragged by. Seven, eight, nine o’clock and they were still sitting in the living room. How my father could put up with them, I really did not know?
Ten o’clock came and I was feeling hungry. My mother told me in the kitchen that perhaps she should invite them to stay for dinner. I shrugged my shoulders. Then thankfully my father said that he was inviting them out for a bite to eat and asked if we would like to come along. We declined gratefully.
My father, bless him, knew my mother’s predicament and so invited the guests out to save my mother from having to prepare dinner for them. So finally I heard my father reversed out his car and followed these totally inconsiderate people to wherever they were going for dinner, at my father’s expense. At the rate they were going, I doubt the man would remain my father’s best friend for long.
At last the house returned to its normal peaceful character. It had been a trying evening putting up with these unwelcome visitors. I prayed that they would not come again. moved away from the airport.