Thursday, September 20, 2012


Well hello there. Thank you for choosing A Son Of A Peach as your daily reading material. That shows that you have a sense of humor that borderlines on being perverse and that anything crass and stupid is right up your alley. First of all, let me inform you that I'm not a social commentariat. No, I don't think the world wants or needs another self-righteous prick. I just happen to have quite a fair bit of time and an internet connection. Besides, the world has seen a lot of sadness and wrecks (99% of the time generously exemplified by Lindsay Lohan) and we all need that little dose of laughter every single day.

In my journey to fully entertain and amuse you readers, you will find two of my best friends making a recurring appearance in my writings. Not on my own accord really; they are selfish, self-important individuals who yearns for nothing in life but to bask in the limelight that this blog would hopefully provide. One of them is Star. Before I proceed, I would like to say that that's not her real name. I don't even think "Star" qualifies as a name for a real person.

"But I want a name befitting of a celebrity, or a porn star. And don't you ever reveal to your readers my real name or I'll cut your balls off!"

And judging from her track record with men, that is actually a plausible possibility. Star was born in Singapore but raised in Tampa, Florida her entire life. When her parents got divorced four years ago on her 19th birthday, she followed her Singaporean mum back home and left her American dad to "Suck off tits made of plastic and hopefully die of contamination." Her words, not mine. Having being raised in America all her life also means that she is loud, obnoxious and sleeps around with different men on a daily basis. But she has one of the nicest heart that I have ever come across. I must also add that she is the owner of one of the most beautiful pair of tits. Legendary if I may add. Once, a fellow schoolmate, in his drunken stupor, one night after being ditched by Star (long story), famously slurred, "I...I call them The Fluffies. They're...they're perfect dude."

I told Star the same night over the phone that it was a right decision to dump him. The Fluffies, really?

The other person in my life is Melanie. Well, Melvin, three years ago. Yes, you read that right. Melanie is a transsexual. She works as a hairdresser by day and is a social escort by night. Tall, drop dead gorgeous, in a tranny kinda way and full lips, courtesy of collagen provided by her plastic surgeon. My mum naturally disapproves of the company that I keep over the years, but lately, she is more confused above anything else.

"Did they really cut off his penis Harry? How does it look like down there now?", my mum would repeatedly ask.

I told my mum that I am not keen to take a look at Melanie's private parts but Melanie as we know her, for all her craziness, decided to flashed me and Star one night, some two years ago; high on cocaine or E or whatever recreational drugs she was on that night. "Harry! Tell your mother I have a fully functional vagina! Look!" I will never forget what I saw and thinking of it always bring shivers down my spine. Star told me that she couldn't bring herself to look at her own privates for two weeks after that.

So you can only imagine the craziness that I have to handle; or am trying to handle, day by day. Topped with the craziness that the world has to offer, I need this outlet, or I'll literally lose my mind. So come, let's grin and laugh together at the world. We all owe ourselves that much don't we?

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