Egg

I'm walking up Swanston,we're headed for Norsiah's for an early dinner.The strong winds force my hair into a mess,not bothered to correct it I let patches of hair block my sight every now and then as they blow into,onto,out of my face and playfully test my thinning patience.

This small-scale turbulence distracts me from what she's trying to say-I catch a couple of words and try to collectively makes sense of them but fail.Until finally,she turns to me with this deadpan expression that falls between lukewarm anger and maddening cuteness-"Al,are you even listening to me?".I grab the fistful flop of hair dangled across my forehead determinedly,"Of course..you were talking about that guy...",I glance forward and spot Norsiah's merely a few steps away,"We're heeeeeeere!",throwing both arms up for good measure.

Behind the counter,a couple figures wait in quiet for their turn.One's on her mobile,saying something in Chinese in slow,mellow verses but suddenly giggles excitedly and momentarily puts her phone away when it comes for her turn to order.I already know what I want,it's always the same thing when I come here-rice with tofu,fried chicken and sambal telur.There's usually an abundance of all three whenever I come,so I don't worry if they've run out.Until..the girl moves slightly to the left,and the miserable sight of a single egg lying in that gloomy puddle of oily red comes to my attention.I must have this egg,I tell myself.Every other dish looks plainly unappetizing-a bunch of shrunken eggplants look like they've been fetched from a petroleum plant,and tiny pieces of beef in the rendang glare at me uninterestedly from behind the smoky glass.

The line clears up and only one person's left ahead-I carefully inspect this stranger,and hesitantly conclude that he's not a fan of the egg.He's this tall,presumably Australian guy with suave blond hair that,despite it's length,is kept acceptably tidy.Clad in a skimpy black singlet and stained green khakis with large pockets on each side,I notice that his arms are not only defined with the kind of muscle only personal training can achieve,but also completely hairless.His hands are dangling idly by his side,as he peers down to observe the food.His crisp skin is tanned to a light orange,his nails unusually neat.After taking all this in,I can only think of one word to describe this man:Stripper.There's no other way to say it-he just looks like a stripper.And I'm pretty sure strippers don't eat eggs.They dine on the self-pity of beaten middle-aged patrons,and maybe the occasional protein juice or bowl of tasteless salad that is quickly burned off my a grueling half-day workout.

I walk to his side,fold my arms and insecurely set my eyes on the golden egg,and casually announce to my companion's direction,"I think I'll get the egg",making sure I enunciate all the words.And just to be sure,I look to his direction.He's smiling.How odd.I offer a passing grin,and pretend to focus on the egg again.Nothing's changed,I still want it.He opens his mouth to say something and I immediately notice one tooth's missing on the lower left side,resulting in this small gaping space,that looks deliberate somehow-"What do you think I should get?",he asks.I nod mock-intelligently,surveying the food and clasp my palms at the back,in the manner of an aged professor.

"The eggplant looks heavenly".He looks at the it quizzically,then points to it.Risk-taker,I see.It's then fetched to a plate of rice,later joined by a piece of chicken and some green alien plant things.And when my turn arrives,I instantly point to the wondrous egg.Sitting down,I continue to marvel at it.My egg,if only you knew how much I went through.Then I place it on a spoon and take a huge,greedy bite,and munch satisfyingly.And spit it all back onto the plate.Ugh,that unbearable taste.I forgot eggs had those yellow icky things in them.Those things taste like something I'd feed my neighbor's dog.To kill it.Thus,my quest for the egg has proved to be completely meaningless,now what's left of it is bits of white,yellow,all gross and slimy.I push my plate away,pick up a fork and start stabbing at it.Then I get tired of this,my tummy's churning in hunger-I walk back to the counter and buy a currypuff,and it tastes just o-k.