Liew Seng Tat writes:

Bonjour!

I opened my mailbox today and was greeted by several emails asking me to enlarge my penis. It read "Amaze your partner, Make your penis bigger", "Penis enlargement: From Zero to Hero" and etc. I quickly got dressed and said "fuck" softly, too softly I myself couldn't even hear it. How the hell they know? I looked around snoopily. I even looked under my shoes. Wait a minute... someone must be spying on me in my room... or else, how do they know my penis needs enlargement?

Picture of a dead fish. It reminds me of my girlfriend's actual boyfriend, except this fish looks better.

I closed the curtains and locked my door. I walked back and forth, trying to figure out who's the culprit. It didn't work. So I walked in circles instead.

Then I decided to call mother. It wasn't easy to make phone calls while walking in circles without having to twitch my eyes rapidly. That's the natural reaction I get every time my brain is confused.

I got through and talked to her for a few hours and found out that it wasn't her. I should have known! Mother won't go around telling everybody her son's penis size. She only talks about how funny it looks like.

Who could it be then? Bitter ex-girlfriends? No way, I was the bitter one coz I got dumped every time, badly. Plus all my ex-girlfriends are dead now. Jesus blessed them. Allah blessed one of them.

Who could it be then? I was so confused and nervous while thinking about it, my eyes started to twitch again and I could hardly move. I thought I suffered from panic attack but then I realised it was the phone line that got tangled up with my legs.

At dinner while everyone was busy talking about literature, philosophy and films, I kept staring at the dead salmon on my plate. Suddenly I realised that the culprit could be the big boned girl I had one night stand with last week. But it doesn't make sense at all, she wouldn't have known coz she was just lying there like a dead fish all the time. She was so dead-fish I bet she's still lying on the bed where I left her a week ago.

Who could it be then? Can anyone tell me?

The readers who read this also read:
JE NE PARLE PAS FRANCAIS! post #001 - The cold
JE NE PARLE PAS FRANCAIS! post #002 - Speaking French
JE NE PARLE PAS FRANCAIS! post #003 - Cooking
JE NE PARLE PAS FRANCAIS! post #004 - How To Kiss A Dutch Girl
JE NE PARLE PAS FRANCAIS! post #005 - My right hand
JE NE PARLE PAS FRANCAIS! post #006 - Dead Fish Girl
JE NE PARLE PAS FRANCAIS! post #007 - Thessaloniki
JE NE PARLE PAS FRANCAIS! post #008 - Jesus put me in so much shit
JE NE PARLE PAS FRANCAIS! post #009 - My paintings
JE NE PARLE PAS FRANCAIS! post #010 - Merry Fucking Christmas

DISCLAIMER!
JE NE PARLE PAS FRANCAIS! aka I don't speak French is written by the filmmaker Liew Seng Tat during his stay in Paris. He is forced to write about his experience in Paris and update at least once a week. The characters and incidents described in JE NE PARLE PAS FRANCAIS! are always exaggerated, sometimes fictional and most of the time unpleasantly filthy. Please don't sue him.