The Power of Motivation

Friday nights are meant to be enjoyed, so Chicken and I went out for slop and a show. The show ended just before midnight and it was just right for an excursion to the Holy Land. We were in high spirits on the way, buoyed by our philistine’s humour and the prospect of seeing lovely things we expected to see. We soon reached the Holy Land without incident.

As was our custom, we bought coffee. Chicken had a smoke near his bike and we shot the shit a little as we prepared for our night walk. I told him I had to take my annual physical fitness test the next morning and I wanted to gain some inspiration from the sights in the land. Hearing this, Chicken suggested that we should not stay out so late. I quickly assuaged his fears for my safety, saying I had no desire to die for my country and I could very well do it another day should I deliver a poor performance. Convinced of my ability to take care of myself, we proceeded to take a leisurely stroll down the hallowed lorongs of the Holy Land.

There were a few items on display at $60 China Street and I thought I saw a few fresh items. Turning round the bend into the $80 China Street, I saw the usual goods. Continuing onwards, Indonesia Lane was thronged with the products of that country, along with crowds of gawkers, many of whom well unwashed and probably infected with crabs and other aliments that mostly afflict the unhygienic and inferior.

By now, Chicken and I could see from far small crowds at the Central Business District (CBD). Peering past our fellow window-shoppers, we could see the distinctive curvy shapes which are characteristic of the high-priced merchandise typically sold in the area. The build-up of the traffic on the narrow road gave us hope, for we knew it could only mean one thing. In great haste we ambled forward, and our reward for our endeavor was the magnificent sight of the superior China merchandise lining the entire street leading to the CBD’s main building. A few made eyes at us, one tagged at my sleeve and asked me to ‘go up’. Tall and provocatively dressed, their assets were tantalizingly displayed, showing just enough to suggest the possibility of seeing their full glory – at the right price.

We soon settled at our usual place at the CBD building and sipped our coffee as we talked. There were three lovely specimens standing in front of the building. One wore red/pink and looked reasonably pretty; the next was dressed in a black cocktail dress which accentuated her height but obscured part of her assets; and the one in white blouse and black shorts was the loveliest of them all. All three have nice, creamy white, slim legs which seemed to go on forever, but the ‘white one’ was stood out. About 5’ 7” in height, she was like the prettiest of vase, her tiny waist was like a handle you want to grip, and her impressive rack screamed to be caressed , and her legs! Imagine having her porcelain white thighs around my neck as she awaits the sweetness of congress….

So moved I was that I immediately started waxing lyrically about her virtues, and such was the conviction in my voice, backed up by the seductive creature before us, that Chicken gave affirmative nods at every praise I heaped on her. We both asserted that every man would love to have such a beauty for a girlfriend. Imagine bringing her out to shop in the city area. All the males would surely ogle her and curse the guy beside her. How dare this bastard have such a girlfriend! And all the females would surely look away in anger and jealousy, trying in vain not to admit to themselves their own abject inferiority. It is a crime against humanity and an affront to moral and social justice that this beautiful thing has to stand for long hours hawking her wares while ugly girls become models and appear in fashion mags. However, having said that, I must say that this miscarriage of justice has ironically made the likes of her accessible to people like us. I told Chicken I was ever more motivated to do well for my physical fitness test so that I may have the funds to enjoy her. We finished our coffee, and as we walked past her, I saw that even her face was about as perfect as a male would want her female to be. A vixen’s look, but with a touch of innocence and a hint of experience….She has such exquisite genes!

Our stay in the Holy Land took a while yet and by the time I got home it was two in the morning. I did not fall asleep until three. Three hours later a pounding headache greeted me as I greeted the wretched day with much reluctance. I did not have much appetite for breakfast; my muscles ached; and I even forgot my travel card and had to waste time and energy running back to my house to retrieve it. To compound my misery, my friend was late. I had to go to the test centre alone and when I reached the place the test was already underway. I quickly got myself a number tag, and even in this the fates seemed to conspire to make my existence more miserable than it already was. It had no slot for the identification card and I had to hold it in my hands.

Despite the inauspicious start, I cleared the static stations with only a little fuss. My friend came and sadly, he did not enjoy the best of fortunes. He had a torrid time with the jumping and sprinting stations. I shouted encouragement and advised him on technique, but alas, my efforts were in vain. Done with the static stations, we moved to the carpark for the 1.5 mile run. My headache had now subsided to a dull ache behind my eyes and I thought I was going out of breath. When I started running I felt like giving up immediately, but my ego and the thought of that hot gorgeous broad I saw hours ago, spurred me on, kept me going in the tortuous nine minutes, and I heaved a sign of relief (and spat some spit from my dry mouth) when I hit the finish line and found I had achieved my objective. It was a poor performance by my standards, but money is money and this is what counts.

After our exertion we went to my university for some well-deserved refreshments. I was bitterly disappointed at the insipid scenery and I delivered a rant at the inferior quality of specs we have to make do in this shithole. I could see that my friend was quite impressed with my vehemence and this encouraged me to repeat what I told him earlier at the test station about the powers of motivation. (I told him of how the bevy of beauties I saw in the Holy Land the night before inspired me to victory.) Surely, when a bloke has to look at so many unsightly and arrogant things every day, it’s little wonder why he has little motivation to carry on! If only our women were like that angel….Wars and natural disasters would cease; the people happy, and peace reign on earth.