Monday, March 17, 2003

”They were stealing my booze.”
Roughly translated from loud Cantoneses over dinner with my folks; all sound effects reproduced as faithfully as possible.

Mother: Oh! It was *so* annoying. He, your father, was sound asleep on the sofa, snoring and snoring… [makes shovel dragging along pavement sound] and then he started shrieking and crying out… like this: [starts hoo-ing and eee-ing in a creepy high pitched way]
Father: I was having a bad dream.
Mother: And then he threw a punch! I was just sitting down, minding my own business then he lashed out at me. I thought to myself, lucky I’m sat over here otherwise I would have been whacked good and proper. He went [demonstrates a hefty punch and Bruce Lee-style “Hiiiii-YA”]
Big Sister: Who were you beating up? Osama? Bush? Blair?
Me: Saddam?
Father: I was beating up three punks. They were stealing my booze.
Mother: Hmmph. He threw a punch. He was shrieking like a… like a…he was crying out really loudly and then he threw a punch. Going like this…[more shovel along pavement noises] all the time! Then [another demonstration of the punch and Bruce Lee-style “Hiiiii-YA”]
Father: [trying to talk over Mother’s sound effects and over-enthusiastic re-enactment] They were trying to steal my booze. They tried it twice, then I thought, how dare they, they’re nothing but punks. So I hit them.
Mother: [interrupts] He tried to hit me! In his sleep!
Father: [talking over her] They kept creeping up to the bottles so I got up and hit them, to keep them away. It was my booze. They were trying to steal my booze.
Mother: I was watching the news.
Father: Huh.
Mother: And all the time all I could hear was [totally OTT hoo-ing, eee-ing, shrieking, snoring and kung fu noises, rattling the chopsticks on the table]
Father: I don’t sound like that.
Mother:Hah! You don’t know what you sound like when you sleep! You’re too busy beating up punks! Punks! In your sleep! Making horrible noises! Like this! [more ear-splitting sound effects]
Father: They were stealing my booze. [silence]
Me: Top up my glass, will you? And dad too. Christ, just open another bottle.

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