Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Nightclubber Chow Kah throws birthday party at Hot Legs Niteclub
[Pix of model for illustration purpose only]
“Happy birthday!” I say to Chow Kah and hand him a small package.
He opens the box and takes out an Alfred Dunhill gold lighter. “Wow! Thanks!’ My buddy pats me on the shoulder. I stroke my Fu Manchu moustache and smile. The lighter was bought from Petaling Street!
We are in the Grand VIP Room of Hot Legs Nightclub & Karaoke. Guests are slowing filling up the room, and the buffet table is packed with bottles of vodka, gin, rum and plates of chicken wings, mini pizzas, corn salsa, caramel apples, peppermint patties, fried bee hoon and mozzarella sticks.
From nowhere, Mummy Lulu appears. “Thanks for having your birthday party here,” she says to Chow Kah. She’s wearing a Stetson hat and snakeskin boots. A toy pistol dangles from her belt. “So how old are you?”
Chow Kah, donned in a Batman costume, smiles. “A true friend remembers your birthday but not your age.”
Wati, holding a glass of rum in her hand, looks around the room. “Where’s Jessica [top pix]?” she asks. Her skintight Wonderwoman costume flatters her 36-24-36 figure, attracting hum sup [lecherous] stares from the male guests.
“She’ll be coming as Batwoman!” Chow Kah says, taking a sip of whisky.
“Oh, that’s exciting! Where did she get the costume?”
“I rented mine from a store in Sungei Wang. So I decided to rent the Batwoman costume for her.”
“That’s romantic. What a fine couple, both of you make,” Mummy Lulu says, munching a mozarella stick.
Everyone is having a good time.
Chow Kah’s eyes light up under his mask. Enter Jessica in her Batwoman costume. She strides up to him and gives him a birthday kiss on the cheek. “Happy birthday, dearie!”
He cups his hand to her ear and I hear him say: “How about a quickie? Consider it my birthday present.”
She shakes her head.
Jessica nods and smiles. Above the din of the music and yakking, she utters into his ear: “We go to the bathroom at the back afterwards.” She goes to the buffete table.
The merry-making ends at 2am. When the guests have left, Chow Kah takes Jessica by the hand and leads her to the bathroom. Wati and I are playing rock-paper-scissors and betting with groundnuts. Chow Kah and Jessica emerge half an hour later, grinning.
The next day, Chow Kah and I are warming bar stools in Hot Legs. Jessica, her cherry-red lips split by a smile, saunters up to us. “Oh, Chow Kah, I’m sorry, I couldn’t come yesterday. I had upset stomach. But I loaned my costume to my mother. Did she pass my birthday present to you?”