Mine was in Kelantan, of all fuckin places.
A few years back me n my bro wanted to go to Penang to party. So we went via the East Coast – Terengganu, Kelantan. Cos we’re adventurous. Haha
Anyways, ended up in hotel room in Kota Baru that belonged to my bro’s friend from Sabah, TK, who was there for some doctor convention.
(His exact words, which he later regretted, were – “U guys passing thru KB? Why don’t u come and use the ‘facilities’ here?”). Some five-star hotel la. Suited us boys just fiiine.
So we partied that night in d room, lotsa booze n all. It was me, Volume, The Ship, Ron (short for Moron) and TK.
Music’s rockin, booze is flowin, Volume gets plastered, then sinks his teeth into my arm (bicep) while I was chillin on d chair, drawing blood. Fuckin dracula move. Watdefucked, I push him off. Somehow he gets behind me and this time REALLY sinks his teeth into my back, that it tears my shirt n draws a lot more more blood. (All this without any provocation or issue.)
The boys in d room were slow at reacting, no doubt still tryin to process the weird scene. I managed to get Vol’s fangs outta me, turn around, n throw him on d bed. He seems delirious. I jump on him n lock his arms behind his back, and yell at d other dummies to help hold him down, which they do.
Eventually he seems to calm down. Of course I’m pissed at getting these free love bites, so later I fuck him up n provoke him until we have a skirmish in d hotel corridor!
Right then my bro returns from wherever he was that nite, and asks “watdefuck is goin on?!” Volume tries to take a swing at my bro. This time I’m really pissed, so I fist the puta in d face, and wrestle to try n get him down on d ground. I manage to do that. Of course I proceed to kick da shit outta him, while yelling shit about his mama and his dead father.
No mercy. Tony Montana mode.
Like I said, I was pissed.
The boys didn’t try to stop me.
Although it was quite a riot, the other hotel guests wisely stayed in their rooms. A couple of guests wanted to leave their room but u-turned. No one called security. Good.
I left him lying in d corridor. (I haven’t seen Volume since.)
Now I’m back in da room. I got major teeth holes in my back. So I pour vodka over them.
The boys say I have to get to a doctor to get a jab, an ATT i think (for tetanus, as a human bite is more dangerous than most animal’s). Tho they’re all doctors, obviously they don’t go partyin with ATT on them. Some other stuff maybe, but not ATT.
It’s 3am, i need a medic, we’re all high, I’ve got blood on me, and we’re in goddam Kelantan. Great.
So we hit the streets on foot, wanderin around looking for a clinic that’s open 24 hours. We find one, go in there, and the nurse wakes d doctor up, and shows us into the room.
Doc rubs his eyes and eventually asks “apa jadi?”
I answer “kena gigit.”
“Kena gigit apa? Anjing?”
I answer “manusia.”
“Hah?? Apa???”
Dude was taken aback, obviously a first for him.
We decided to come up with a more ‘believable’ story. So – we went karaokeing, then while walking back to hotel, some hobo jumps out of an alley and asks for money. We told him to fuck off, then he attacked me, and bit me. Maybe he had rabies. Or sum junkie. (Yea sounds far out, but which story’s more ridiculous?)
The poor doctor and nurse were shocked, obviously unhappy that out-of-towners were attacked in peaceful little KB. They then said that these things don’t happen over here n all. KB is actually a nice place, nice people, safe town, etc, etc.
No shit. Just gimme d jab man. I’ve had a long nite.
He patches me up n we head back to d room. We have a coupla more drinks n crash.
TK, the shell-shocked doctor from Ranau (Sabah) who told us to “come over and use the facilities” at the hotel, was up very early d next morning, stepping over our bodies and makin calls to the airport. “NO, I said I want the first flight you have!” He was outta there man, back in KK before we were up. O yea, Volume had also puked all over TK’s bed during d kecoh, among other damage (to d room and to TK’s good rep.)
I was reasonably satisfied as I had got Volume good, coz d next morning my hand hurt from slammin mafucker’s face and my foot hurt from kickin him in the stomach n ribs.
Moral of d story? Some punks can’t drink. Period.
His upper teeth and lower teeth marks are still visible on my skin. If he ever dies in a plane crash or is crisped in a fire, I will gladly provide his dental records, as I carry them around IN my back.
Brain damage rating: 7/10
For Volume: 10/10
