Door To Door Wails

In order to quicken the pace of generating funds for the first KLK Project, the KLKillahs has empowered Praba to get down into the heartlands to spread the cheer and pocket the dough. It was no surprise that in a nation where you can't have a decent meal without getting fined for smoking beyond the yellow box and without being accosted by 2 for $20 salesmen that he faced some annoyances at the doorsteps he turned up at.
Read on:

Today, I state rules.

Rules that you really should abide by when you see praba at your doorstep. You'd have probably known by now that I am selling vinaayagar plates for charity. So apart from trying to sell them online, I also do door to door visits to try and sell the plates. Sad to say, I come across the most strangest people living in singapore while working. Some of the questions that they pose, I'd say is worth a slap. I've done this door to door bullshit far too many times and I am not in any way impressed with the replies/reactions I get. What's wrong with the KLKommunity these days?

Rule 1: Do NOT open the door, put your finger in your lips, and gimme a strange look like I killed your family. If your grandmother has eyesight problems, attach binoculars to her. Or else, blindfold her and keep her tied in your storeroom.

Rule 2: Please stop yelling to your husband/boyfriend/fling "There's an indian boy here!" Crazy women, why the hell you shouting for? What am I? A terrorist? You just say someone is here. Stop adding the words "indian boy" to remind me that I fall under the minority and you think i'm more prone to do some "block shopping" then to sell you

Rule 3: If I tell you the name of the charitable organization, and it sounds very indian, do not ask me "Is that an indian thing?" Does ramakrishnan mission sound any chinese or malay to you? Where're you from? Zimbabwe?

Rule 4: If you don't wanna buy, say so. I've got many places to go to. Stop asking me if the plate was painted in thailand by a transsexual or whether it was transported by a bullock cart to singapore or have we paid our taxes. Ask me questions ONLY IF it affects the factors of you buying it. You mean to say you'd only buy the plates if they were coloured by crayons? You wouldn't like it if I were to ask you what sized undergarments your daughter wears to find out how old she is would you?

Rule 5: Stop asking me questions outta the blue. I am not there to make friends with you and add you up on MSN. I have a job to do. I don't care if you squat and shit on your plant to fertilize it or whether you recycle your toilet water to fertilize it. Your soil is not my toil. I is least bothered. So the next time, don't ask me what is the best fertilizer to use. When in doubt, pour some kerosene and set your rose plant ablaze. It looks worse than your wife anyway.

Rule 6: Peepholes. If I were to knock on your door, please open the door to listen to me. Do not check me out from the peephole for the next thirty minutes all the way till I walk off. The next time round, if you're looking through a peephole and you see something dark, RUN! That's the barrel of ma brand new M16. You can get anything these days at Sungei Road didn't you know?

Rule 7: Keep away from me that maid of yours. Especially if she only knows how to say the words "I dunno". I will slap the shit outta her back to where she hailed from. And even if your maid happens to be indian, try and stop her indian slangs. I will snap a shot for the next KLK Profile issue. And so, I do not wish to hear the words "Yaaro Vanthiruka-her" I am not a 'her'! I is a 'him'.

Rule 8: When I am talking, you do not answer me together with your entire family. One at a time please. I know my ears are big. But they're not that big till your family can play 'kabadi' inside. But the interesting thing here is, when they all speak that bloody fast and they all do it so synchronized like as if they do it to everyone, it sounds like a song! Try it with a friend when you're free.

Rule 9: I am 20 donkey years old. Stop asking your 7 year old kid, who gives me that gay smile, to converse with me while your wife lies like a hippo in front of the TV and you're lying on her beer belly. What the fuck did she swallow? A microwave oven? And was it the sound of Sun TV that I heard playing in the background while your son was giving me a gay smile? I'll set your house on fire. [What did Starhub give you Channel 28 for, everyone, kin, dial 1633, order it!]

Rule 10: When someone knocks on your door, be it your friend/enemy/loanshark, attend to them neatly. If your hair is long enough to sweep the floor while walking and they're curlier than curly fries, tie it up. Unless of course you're just getting ready for the "Kurukkeh Vantha Theivam" remix music video auditions.

Rule 11: How in the world do you sneak in a panda bear to your house? Oh, you mean to say that was a dog? Bloody keep it refrigerated in the fridge jackass. I do not wanna be intimidated when I am talking. But, of course, if that was a cheat code to chase me away, kudos!

So let me just end it off here. I was reading the newpaper today bout this woman who splashes urine on her neighbour's doors. That made me come up with a KLKonclusion.

I carry along with me, a paper where the donor's name is taken down to say a "Thank You" on behalf of the rest of us and to keep them updated on the Project. But from tomorrow onwards, when I am hitting the blocks, I am gonna carry along an extra piece of paper with the heading "Addresses of people whose door I should splash some 'holy water' at".

P.S. We know you love to tag. Tag all you want. If you aren't out of your own internal identity crisis and seemingly forgot your name, go with Anonymous. It's ok. But please, don't utilize our name to tag elsewhere. Please stay clear of any of our own nicks or the moniker "KLK" when tagging across the blogosphere. We figure it's all about professional courtesy.